Calling All Journos

This goes out to all the journos

writin bullshit about me

and my Daughter

in The Bulb

trash rag

they don’t know

what the fuck

is up

yea . . .

Keep two things handy: girls and Pecan Sandies

A sleeve of Samoas and Lorena Ochoa

Or simplify your life; sleep on the cheap with Candy

And Brandy

. . . and Mandy

. . . . . . . . . and Jill.

She’s a thrill.

Write on me and ya might get sliced

Julianne peppers marked half-price

Kick you in the spleen

kick your white dress nice

like Michael Bradley in the Eredivisie

Judge Smails sets the bail for ten thousand snails

I’ll finger you with my pointy little coke nail

make you bleed out like uncle bill cleaned trout

a precise shade of cerise

strawberry topping on my Oberweis

Damn, J this shits jejune!

I know

I know

Pass the spittoon

In Burps

This morning's Facebot spambook cryptogram for my blogplug was "In Burps." My theory? Everybody knows how fond Radiohead's Thom Yorke is of cryptography. I think the cephalopodic reach of the band's influence has turned Facebook into the next great music hype-machine/marketing device. It is becoming more and more clear to me that In Burps is the much anticipated follow-up to 2007's critically acclaimed In Rainbows, much as Hail to the Thief overturned the ambient ceasefire of its two predecessors*. In other words, where Rainbows dallies with the Care Bears up in cloud 9 or 10 (though I heard a rumor that due to celestial gentrification, the Care Bears had to go in for a shotgun house in New Orleans), In Burps takes the listener/consumer on a lightless odyssey through the digestive system, chthonic realm of chyme, cum, and communism (we know you're down there, Trotsky). So, according to Facebook, don't expect Radiohead's next to sooth you into a Bush-era sugar-coma.

Well, folks, I'm off to the South, tomorrow. New Orleans, Austin, West fucking Texas, etc.. I won't be back until later April, but I will check in to see how fare my little spring blossoms. Be good, you Gogurt goblins. Glam it up. Our world relies on The Bulb for all of its goblin-related gossip. PEACE.

E

* Bullshit

Tom O'Bedlam Sings His Song in parts and fits #3

///////////.
Back to the check-outt

straight off the bat the kids sed

What's'yer reasoning on this?
re/zoning
re/opning
re/sizing

re/align
ing-lore
loc
uter/us
and them

simply
saying

re/plying
pli/a
pli/é
-ble
play

Or other somesuch ethnocrutch to levitate from.

Tom's gone roun'd'twist. I've seen enough to sim/ply
s/ay
ail/
ments

From the hag/g and hungr/ie goblin
That into raggs would rend ye [rocks]
And the spirit that stands by the naked man
In the Book of Moonshine - defend ye!
That of your five sound senses [and the one not taken]
Never you be foresaken
Nor wander from your selves with Tom
Abroad to beg your bacon.

ima get Zen on you

We interrupt our regular programming to bring you this Gobbilicious Moment In Zen:

Vibe out to the music of the Milky Way.

Resuming normal programming in 3--2--1--

...

EXTRA: TREND WATCH!

ARE WARMHOLES THE NEW HOLEY OZONE?

[editor's note: verification TK...if we survive]

Today's coverage of celebrity carnage brought to you by . . .

The new Heatseeking SmartPhone from DROID: "A GOUT-RIDDEN KNUCKLE OF DO IT"

AXE REVIVE: "Now with extract of an archangel's adrenal gland."

and finally, by your local combination Pizza-Hut-Taco-Bell-Siberian-Wormhole*: "Think outside the space-time continuum."

***

Tune in later for more interdimensional coverage from the trenches.

*Thanks to David "I'm Not Ready to Be Famous" Munk for the heads up

A variety of dilletantes
have been view/
ed
&&
skewed
stew/
ing
skewered &&
lamb-
asted/asterik
supple with arsenic
and laud/
ed
educated by
bi-lingaully
train/ed
and test/
ed
legal/
slaters && roof
tilers

the poems are doing battle at the fronts. The port-cullis is whistling.
Thomas de Quincey.
Jones.
Adams and the invisible hand. Dante Alighieri quotes David Ricardo as saying "By far the greatest part of those goods which are the objects of desire, are procured by labour".

If you have any questions please direct them to St.Fuck You, Bern Porter or our Letters Page.