#402, 734 - 2nd Ave. NW,
Ross. Frequently I have had THOUGHT TRAUMA today. It started early this morning. I bought a $4.49 cheap pack of beer in bottles two days ago. I drank one bottle today. It sort of calmed me but wore off and since it was grey overcast today I slowly got hyper nervous. My ears started ringing. So I layed on my back for two hours. Then I learned at 6:00pm I had to attend a sports award banquet. I made it through that after taking a BC POWDER. I went to mail a letter because I bought a cheap laser disc on EBAY. THE ROLLING STONES ROCK N ROLL CIRCUS. Way out of print. I wanted it in the mail to get picked up at 9:00AM tomorrow. It was about 10:00PM. Kentucky Fried Chicken was closing. I got a side of creamed potatoes, three biscuits and a chicken breast. It was the last piece of chicken they had. I had half a gallon of CANE sweet tea I bought yesterday from POPEYE'S CHICKEN. The ringing in my ears is strong. I tore off a big piece of aluminum foil and carefully put it around my head like a swimming cap. Then I wrapped my head in a towel. I am now going to put the TV and DVD player on an episode of LOST IN SPACE with DR. ZACHERY SCHMMMMIFF. This shall protect the energy in the air and the foil on my head shall block the cadence. I am too nervous and tired to camp outside tonight so I'll stay in the guest room at my momma how underneaff the splyduhman plostuh I got in the fifth grade at the Scholastic Book Fair. In my twin bed. I hope I'll be calm by tomorrow. The foil may be the key.
Tell the people of the world. If TRUMAN BENTLEY JR. vomits in an empty theatre popcorn bucket, that bucket of vomit is of more value that the orgasm at your creation. Though some of your parents didn't have one, you were the consequence. The blind eyed bird in the nest that never flys. Constantly schreeching for crumbs. FEED ME SEYMOUR! The key word to you is ME. ME ME ME ME ME. That is all you are about MAN CHILD. Still sleeping in the twin bed in the basement of your momma's house underneath the spiderman poster you got from the Scholastic book fair in the fifth grade. HUSH! THEM JOWELS! YOU NEVER SHUT UP! TALKING TALKING TALKING. That is why you can't pass Algebra. Forty five years old. Ain't done NUTHIN' with your life. You need to back stroke out to sea with Ray Johnson. First of all, ART is not real. Second of all you need to use that broom and floor buffer a couple uh times down at the GOOLSBY. A stock clerk is real work. When the EVIL anti art party takes over the world the EVIL ANTI ART PARTY is going to check your work. And if that floor don't shine and you didn't work steady then you get REDUCED RATIONS for the day. Hard workers shall get DINTY MOORE BEEF STEW with some rolls and butter and crackers with big glasses of iced tea. Slack workers get a dot of TANG in water with some dry unsalted MATZO crackers. Now MATZO crackers are good in CAMPBELL'S VEGETABLE SOUP, but alone with TANG water, not so filling. Everything shall be CONTROLLED AYN RAND style. People should not be allowed to protest pooping and peeing in tents WALL STREET PROTEST STYLE. Your hands need blisters from working. You should be able to retire at age 37 after going into THE SERVICE at age 17. A real man is self sufficient and grown by age 22. Hard work makes success. Yapping and standing around with hippies and WEIRDOS is not NOT WHOLESOME. Ross knows. That is why he neatened up his beard and shaved his neck because poetry freaks had LICE NIBS also called LIGHTS NITS jumping off them trying to HATCH UP in his beard. Ross is a scientist. He is not a PEACE CREEP DWEEB. Asemic poetry is BECAUSE it is ASEMIC, not just jibber jabber scribblings of band wagon wannabes. Weirdo mental illness protest bums are not ABBIE HOFFMAN! Abbie Hoffman was highly intelligent and diligent in his efforts. So bathe and shave. Don't yuh just love the flow of this posting. You read it all. Now go fill out an application so you can get a job as a waiter or hostess at RED LOBSTER. The key to WORK is WORK. But first you gotta get a job and secondly you gotta learn YES SIR and YES MAM so you can respond properly when addressing YOUR BOSS! You need a boss spiderman poster! No job has a definition. The word in the dictionary for NO JOB is BUM. Fill out the job application in your neatest hand writing. Be quiet. OBEY YOUR BOSS! CORPORATE BOSS PEOPLE ARE BOSSES BECAUSE THEY CAN! THEY CAN! YOU ON THE OTHER HAND AREN'T BECAUSE YOU CAN'T! First bathe with some HERTZ THREE IN ONE FLEA AND TICK DOG AND CAT SOAP. You gotta get rid of that infestation. They aren't gonna let you loose around the HAPPY MEALS without a good scrubbin' and YOUR FLEA COLLAR.
IT'S EIGHT TWENTY FIVE! YOU STILL AIN'T GOT UH JOB YET! DAMMMMMMN YOU ARE UH LLLLLLLOU-ZUH!
People without JOBS are not real men and women. This is why Ray Johnson MANNED UP and SWAM OUT TO SEA!
People without jobs, without a job are not REAL MEN AND WOMEN. A cashier at the GOOLSBY, FOOD LION, or GLENN'S BARGAIN BARN are real people. Those without work. SOMETHIN' IS WRONG WITH THEIR YOKE. They spoilt eggs.People without jobs develop withered grubby little hands. That start tryin' tuh steal out duh stow! Watch they's hanz! DAY STEE-UH!
ROLLY POLE-EEZE AND ROCHABUGS. GRINDED UP INTO A SPREAD LIKE NUTELLA IS ALL THE PEOPLE WITH NO JOB NEED TO EAT.Only people with jobs can be good.People without jobs are bad.If you are good like a CEO you deserve a million dollar bonus.No job people need to PUT THAT FOOD BACK! NNNNNAY-UH! RIGHT NAY-UH!If you are poor. It is because YOU STEAL from LIFE.
IT'S NOT UH MASSAGE! IT'S FOOT REFLEXOLOGY!
For The Newsletter alone is HOLY. For TRUMAN BENTLEY JR. is THE THOUGHT! He is the FABULOUS! He shall make you canvasses if you are NICE and wash your face three times a day. Teeth fall out. But Truman is always present because he can nail scraps together to build you a nice canvass. Wash your feet and change your socks three times a day lest YOU become an average mediocre JUST LIKE EVERYBODY ELSE. Just a winding down music box playing a tired Elvis Presley tune.
TRUMAN BENTLEY JR. is a laxative. The answer for your constipated and encrusted intellect! Like Senna he'll liquify and flush out your mildewed sinew. He is nutrition. The only way to clean the hoarder's house of ignorance called YOUR MIND. Remember, your mind is a tape recorder storage unit. Everyone loves to fill you up with clutter and debreis but they don't want you to have the table set nice for company to enjoy the glazed sugar cured honey ham of HOWELLNESS while the Little Match Girl huddled in the snow outside freezes. Tired cold and hawngree the Wallstreet Protestors just pee and poop on the sidewalks because they create nothing but MUSK. If they were a band they'd only play pure FUNK. Do you see people. Quit chasing your tail in circles like a mad frog. The answer is BATHING! Then get a nice job in the mall. The perfume counter. Go to college in between bathing. Get your PHD in ECONOMICS or BUSINESS ADMINISTRATION. The CEO has the ROLLS ROYCE. The Wall Street protestor gnaws a chicken wing. All of this jumble was a grimiore to turn on your pilot light. Zaratustra was booed. But he was on the tight rope. The only other choice is to swim along side Ray Johnson as he back strokes out to sea. Your greatest enemy lives in your head. Look in the mirror his name is YOU! The reason you aren't a DOCTOR with a thriving practice and a big posh life is that face in the mirror, YOU your greatest enemy in the world. Quit saying lahdeedahdeedah and enroll in college and quit gripe-ing. YOU can't be an OBGYN ASSOC. if you don't acquire your credentials. Why aren't you in college right now? Because of the MAN IN THE MIRROR, YOU the face of your own SELF. Demand more effort and quit playing the world's smallest phonograph record that plays MY HEART BLEEDS FOR THEE. Look in the mirror jahm-buh! Ringa mustasuh! Changuh lee tinga! ROLAIDS! ROLAIDS! YOU MAKE NO SENSE! And quit hanging around losers. Hippies. SSSSSH! Can you hear the Space Aliens? They already laid eggs in your scalp. They are watching you HORTON HEARS A WHO style via their electronic measuring devices. Space Aliens are real and it doesn't matter what I say because it is UNDERSTANDABLE ASEMIC. If a man has fat nasty CHARTLED flesh he is but three steps away from a diuretic. SSSSH! Can you hear those other tenants. They talk about you ever day for an hour after you leave THE RESTAURANT. They laughed at the shoes you had on yesterday and the 1941 Plymouth you were driving. Said it was ridiculous. Listen. You're so vain you thought this song was about you. But really the Daschund should of been named FLASH instead of Lucinda.
TRUMAN BENTLEY JR. is lost in his own SEXINESS!
THEO NELSON has Newsletters sent to him today. If he is a good little JEEP he'll get back issues every day.He HAS Newsletters sent to him today.
Ross Priddle went to the zine fair.
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