We have come so far, yet have such a long ways to go.
We have filled endless books, and yet so much we do not know.
We laid at night as kids, grew up to drink together in bars –
All along thinking of the end of plagues, and of flying cars,
Of pneumatic tubes, of automatic doors,
Of instant worldwide laughs, and of the end of wars.
Some of these things we have – others not so much;
Give it time – there is nothing quite like man’s touch.
His soul patch is explicit, it exclaims his lower lip.
A dot to the line that he draws when he opens up and realities rip.
A man of another time who is timeless for all.
A man of limitless spunk, of overflowing gall.
He said he wanted to annoy until we took note;
A prod, a prod, a prod again to rock the boat.
Mr. Zappa, you were a treasure over flowing –
Casting out your debloons for our enjoyment and our knowing.
The Crested Jagglebat slunk back into its claws
Steam from its nose rose above its tongue which surveyed its jaws.
No remorse, of course – that is not the place of a beast so big.
Its only crime was failing to trod softer over that one brittle twig.
The Red-throated Garger accepted the gift from God –
The subtle snap of the Crested Jagglebat which in the shadows plod.
You are your own home, Garger, go garden and tend your weeds,
Let not the Jagglebat cut you down as you forage for seeds.
Mr. [Redacted] –
My name is Jason. My lovely Mother and Father purchased a home with your assistance some years ago. More recently, they sent you business by the way of my Uncle’s recent purchase of a condominium. Everyone was happy with the events that transpired.
We would appreciate the gesture of you sending us gift cards. However, the first one – to my parents – carried a balance of $0.00. The second – to my uncle – was for $7.71.
When we checked the balance on the first card, we were told that it had been purchased at Cotstco and then used at Stanford’s. We do not have the story on the second one. Neither I, nor anyone I have ever met, has sent or received a gift card for the princely sum of $7.71. Perhaps the numbers Seven, seven, and one – in that sequence – have a special meaning to you?
We have our theories as to what this means; this letter shall be only facts.
I assure you, one fact is that this looks far worse than not sending a gift at all, and has only brought you up as a topic of conversation at your expense. We only chose you because we had a non-negative experience in the past. We will not make the mistake again of putting an exceptionally quick and easy commission in your lap.
Do not attempt to correct your error. My parents have no interest in another gift card – especially one to restaurants in Portland, which you and my parents had mutually agreed is not a place that you all like to spend time. We will return the $0.00 and the $7.71 – whatever its significance – for you to use in Portland at your leisure. If we have received another gift card from you in the time before this letter reaches you, we will return it as well.
Please, don’t embarrass yourself by responding. We know you are sorry.
To the cadence of Wynona’s Big Brown Beaver:
These ‘cados are sized like watermelons – they fill days of needs.
But like the watermelons you don’t want to swallow any seeds.
You don’t want a melon ‘cado growing up inside,
Making you one of them guys who’s good fat double wide.
I knew a man who grew a ‘cado in his tummy for some years –
He couldn’t give birth naturally, so they pulled it out to his tears.
Named the little thing Jessamine, wanted to raise it as his own –
Doctors wouldn’t have none of that, got the National Guard on the phone.
The guard came down to lay the law, saying “it ain’t natur-al!”
Don’t want no army of ‘cado daddies in the shadows, on the prowl.
Took lil ‘cado Jessamine to Oak Ridge National Lab,
Told the egg heads to monitor her vitals and with hypodermic needless stab.
Jessamine the ‘cado grew up tough and mean,
Chewed tobacco, fucked biker chicks, and chugged gasoline.
Still she had a soft spot for her dear old dad.
Cause having a freak melon ‘cado baby was the kind of heart he had.
So when you’re down just think of the ‘cado Jessamine.
Work hard, love each other and try to keep your nose clean.
It could always be worse – you could be riding a hearse to your final resting place.
That is what could be for you but for God’s loving grace.
Its not that we are out of ideas – we have plenty of them.
Executing just takes a lot vigor, pep, and vim.
I know that over there on your armchair things seem like a breeze –
Palm imprints in your lap, pushing pins on maps as you please.
Fold your TV tray and walk this way – mind the crumbs on the floor –
The crumbs from the last time you tried to help; nevermind – ignore.
That’s right! one foot should fall before the next!
Oh look at you, you’re walking now without the usual pretext!
Ah, I understand this is all a lot for you to take in;
And I am so glad that you are with me taking it with a grin.
Oh never mind, looks like you’re behind, now that’s ok.
Have a seat and think about it, I didn’t have my hopes up any way.
I love all of God’s creatures, except for geese. Complete bastards. They crap everywhere, block traffic, and are aggressively territorial. They act ten feet tall, and we have unfortunately trained them that we won’t fight back. They are a bad time wrapped in the makings of their own feather boa.
If you have the opportunity to spend time with a goose, don’t. Unless, of course, you plan on eating it later. Then again, if you consume a goose, you are at the risk of taking on its properties. Don’t risk it for that biscuit, friend.
A lass begins buxom, and a lad burly –
But given time they will all surely turn surly.
Waistbands migrate to pits;
From Fruit Loops to grits;
From up-all-nights to early-rise days;
From blondes and browns to shades of Grays.
Cradle to grave, life is a journey –
End to end, gurney to gurney.
Grew out to my fingers
Had my first grasp
Felt around and undid a clasp
Fell forward and tumbled onto my ass
Looked up at the sky that it was vast.
Hugged the world, it told me its lore
What it was and what I was for
Wrote myself up and out of a door.
Only to come up to knock on one more.
First we fuck. Then we fight.
We Bury ourselves every night.
Dig up ourselves in the morning bright
well rested again to fuck, then fight.