New Year...Oh Dear
I went to sleep at eight o'clock on New Year's eve last Friday night. I know all about this New Year's business. They get you to stay up late, watch Dick Clark drool out the count-down, then try to force feed you ham and eggs, notwithstanding whether or not you care for them. I happen to like them (notwithstanding my Judaism) and notwithstanding that I know I am annoying you with a certain little word that shall not go repeated.
I woke up the first day of the year, said to myself " big goddamn deal", and went back to sleep to have sex with this giant black woman who I have never seen before. God, man! What would you do? I may not respect the new year, but sex dreams come rarely, and I like my sexy dreamboats (is that guys? I am confused so much since I turned twenty). And sexy dreamboats is what I shall have.
Regrets? Yeah, I regret just about everything I've ever done, and they will soon walk me up the stairs to the gallows that they are now constructing outside my bedroom window. I believe they are for me and my many crimes, but they could be for my neighbor Herman, who has failed to pay his toilet tax two years running now. But my regrets are many. I regret that I failed miserably to get my fair share of women in the seventies when the worst thing you could get was...caught. And then in the eighties, even though I'm not Gay, Aids scared me off of the bosoms and purses of ladies for a while. Now, in my advanced state, wearing my skin cancer hat to hide from the sun and my greying hair simultaneously, I seem to be more invisible than ever. HA! If I ever was invisible, just think of the great and wondrous crimes I could commit with impunity. And I'm not even sure what impunity really means. But I would have to remember not to wear any clothes, as you're only invisible when you're naked; as everyone knows. The gallows shade grows larger. But so does the lotto pot.
Sleep well, my pretty thang.
Joey
I woke up the first day of the year, said to myself " big goddamn deal", and went back to sleep to have sex with this giant black woman who I have never seen before. God, man! What would you do? I may not respect the new year, but sex dreams come rarely, and I like my sexy dreamboats (is that guys? I am confused so much since I turned twenty). And sexy dreamboats is what I shall have.
Regrets? Yeah, I regret just about everything I've ever done, and they will soon walk me up the stairs to the gallows that they are now constructing outside my bedroom window. I believe they are for me and my many crimes, but they could be for my neighbor Herman, who has failed to pay his toilet tax two years running now. But my regrets are many. I regret that I failed miserably to get my fair share of women in the seventies when the worst thing you could get was...caught. And then in the eighties, even though I'm not Gay, Aids scared me off of the bosoms and purses of ladies for a while. Now, in my advanced state, wearing my skin cancer hat to hide from the sun and my greying hair simultaneously, I seem to be more invisible than ever. HA! If I ever was invisible, just think of the great and wondrous crimes I could commit with impunity. And I'm not even sure what impunity really means. But I would have to remember not to wear any clothes, as you're only invisible when you're naked; as everyone knows. The gallows shade grows larger. But so does the lotto pot.
Sleep well, my pretty thang.
Joey
posted by Mr. Liberty at 1:55 PM
3 Comments:
Dick and his drool cup.
Exactilliso! as Bernie used to say.
I happened on it while channel changing that eve. The camera caught him unawares when he was done counting backwards, looking down and breathing heavy, with a 'thank heavens dats done' look on his frozen face.
I shudder.
Mostly because I've evaded the pay toilet tax the last three years running.
May you stop shuddering in this new year, Phil.
Your udders can't take it. Believe me, I've tried.
I miss the old Dick Clark...wait...this IS the OLD Dick Clark.
I think next year he should start at 7. Why not, we're gonna get to zero anyhow, huh?
Joey
Hey...pay that tax!
We need a new plunger...and I haven't got the funds to plunge into one right now (I'm reading a book on Groucho Marx...with apologise..cheese?).
Joe
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