Ode to Joy
5/11/96
ODE TO JOY
Right now, May feels like a gigantic waste of my time. Right now, June feels like a gigantic waste of my time. Spring feels like a gigantic waste of my time. Right now, time feels like a gigantic waste of my time. Right now, jerk off mags feel like a gigantic waste of my time. Right now, auto insurance feels like a gigantic waste of my time. Right now, everything feels like a gigantic waste of my time. Stargazing feels like a waste. Whalewatching feels like a waste. Girlwatching feels like a waste. Waistwatching feels like a waste.
Music appreciation: a waste. Gluttony: second, third, and fourth helpings of waste. Moderation and the golden mean: a double waste, an immoderately moderate waste. Politics: worse than a waste. Taking a dump: waste waste waste. Flushing: Waste of water and time. Philosophy: braindrain. Money: A waste of spirit in an expense of shame. Getting my rocks off: Sounds tempting, but don't waste the Big O on me. Family? Everyone should have one----except moi. Pets? Set 'em down. Cars? Flatten 'em. Runway models? Fatten 'em. Music execs? Bury 'em in platinum. Herman Wouk? Don't make me puke. King Farouk? A royal kook. Betty Boop? Out of the loop. Beyond Baroque? An inside joke. God? A ling cod, an old sod. Yo' mama? Mamarama. Strippers? Jam their zippers. Coke? Up in smoke. Cops? Paste 'em. Criminals? Waste 'em. Electric chairs? I'll take a pair. Prison? Derison. Heaven? Seven come eleven. Hell? Swell.
Fine clothes? Rags will do nicely. Nakedness? I'd offend my own eye. The truth? Which one? Lies? Sties in our eyes. Darkness? That I might be able to see. Chill? Let me think...I might be able to warm up to that...if it didn't make me ill. Icebergs? Entomb me in one. I'll take a round the world voyage. If I'm lucky, maybe I'll bump into another Titanic and take us both down. The future? Looks black black black. Yoga? Why don't you just crack my back on a railroad track and make a swift end of it? Gymnasiums? I'd rather have a chalazion. Animals? Give me naugahyde. Plants? Only in unheated cans with plenty of preservatives. Blubber? I do it every day. Trees? Are for the birds. Turds? Now your talking my language. Wars? I carry my own, it's psycho-civil; I'm seceding from myself, then crushing my rebellion.
Bosses? Line 'em up against the nearest wall. Workers? What are they, chumps? Cancer? I'll take a double dose, and top mine with chemotherapy and cobalt. Barium enemas? Only if you first hang me upside down from a meathook. Homework? Should ruin every child's life. Sentiment? Is for the soft. Boxing? Back to bare fisticuffs! I want to see eyeballs rolling like marbles round the ring. Slavery? Just the obscenity we need to revive. Jazz? For buppies. Rap? May it demoralize everyone in America under the age of 21. Bank robbery? Why the fuck not. And you, bank guard. Yeah, it's me, the guy with the pantyhose over his head and larceny on his mind. Kindly put a bullet in my ear on my way out, will you please? If I get any farther than the sidewalk it'll feel like a career, and we can't be having that.
Presidents? Put 'em all under house arrest in a Motel 6. Minimalls? I glory in them. The Internet? Just the denatured non-experience I yearn for. Green grass? Up your ass. A sharp stick in the eye? Shish kabob me brain, immediately. Depression? I'll take two, acute and chronic, and toss in some unhealable lesions, will you? Veterans of Foreign Wars? Yes! What a joy to down doughnuts with them on a Wednesday evening at the old Legion Hall, and afterwards, we'll go bowling!
Slipped discs? I'd like one between every cracked vertebra. Physical health? You can have mine. Endangered species? Clear 'em off the map! Hudson's Bay? The toilet of the Great White North. The Gulag Archipelago? Bring it back and stick me in it, I'm weeping with nostalgia!
The Champs Elysee? Stick it up your Arc de Triumph. Blue skies? Bring 'em down, and the birds that fly in them. Rainbows? Broken promises. Planets? Stick 'em in your hat, put it on your head and call it curls. Bugs? I'll take a heaping dumpster-full. Microbes? A trillion, please, in my frontal lobes. Fungus? Get it among-us. Despair? Can't you smell it in the fresh Spring air?
Unemployment? Yes! And with no compensation! Roofs? Off they come! Bring on the monsoon! Comets? Don't make me vomit. Rhinestones? In the Queen's cunt! Oatmeal? As much as you want. More than you want. And no raisins or brown sugar topping!
Sandwiches? Stale shit sandwiches only. Conscription? For everyone. Commitment? To the nearest asylum. Declevity? Yes, but no levity. Cavities? Drill me to oblivion, Doctor, I am your obedient pain-slave.
Drive-ins? They're so great to be alive-in. Kodiak bears? Maul me, momma. Toupees? Make mine slippery. Sy Sperling's hair club for men? I want permanent dismembership. Hatfields and McCoys? Bring back, and arm with assault weapons, the boys. Neanderthals? Welcome to The 21st Century, y'all, prognathous jaws and all. Infected genitals? I'll take seven dozen u-renitals.
I'm beginning to feel ever so much better. Thanks for hearing me out. Michigan Malicia? Give 'em more clout. World Trade Center? Bomb it benter and benter. Fear? Draw me near. Hopelessness? I bleatingly confess. Sex? Only with Tyrannosaurus Wrecks. Loneliness? Yes, I embrace it, I'm so blessed.
Craps? Snake eyes. Snake eyes. Snake eyes. Roulette? Bet it all on double zero. Emperors? I'll take Nero. What about Caligula? I couldn't give a figula. Fistulas? Love 'em, yearn for 'em, especially on limp wristulas.
Draft me murder me flay me tax me divorce me betray me abandon me deceive me exploit me ravage me loot me pollute me enslave me infect me vivisect me, eviscerate me, plait me, upbraid me, berate me, castrate me, tar me, feather me, run me out on a rail, lynch me, pinch me, steal my youth and age me old, get inside my head and make my brain a jello mold.
Make every night be Sunday night, make every morning Monday morning. Give me a 4 hour daily commute on the 405 Freeway. Appoint me dogcatcher to the world, and let rabies run rampant amongst my fourfooted furry friends. Darken the sky, vanquish the light, cast me in shadow, morning noon and night. Never thank me when you can wank me.
Wake me wake me wake me from this urban nightmare. From here on out, I want my misery rustic. Rust all my tools. Scatter my bones. Strip me of my loved ones and I'll roam the fields alone. Make my epitaph the cry of the northern loon.
Bore me bore me bore me silly. Willy nilly. Ignore me. Give me Bob Dole. Stick my head upon a pole. Gaily 'doze me into a mass grave. Celebrate the cowardly and desecrate the brave. If you can't cremate me, flop my naked limbs like angel hair, like fish bait, like the forgotten legions of the damned, into a hole of my own making.
Array the hordes of Genghis Khan before me. Give me an ultimatum which I cannot accept. Storm my walls, sack my city, rape my women, slaughter my children, make a pyramid of the skulls of my countrymen, and save me out for special torture.
I'm a Crusader, climbing a crenulated wall, taking cauldrons of hot pitch in my face. I'm a Saracen, skewered by a Christian sword.
I'm the abandoned 4th wife of a fertile, syphilitic, nomadic patriarch, giving birth, after 36 hours of lonely labor,in a cougar-infested mountain meadow. No midwife is in sight.
The sun is going down on my world. When I awake, all is scoured, waxed, sparkling, and running and flying backasswards towards the beginning of time. The buffalo and the passenger pigeon return en masse, a hundred million billion strong. High plains Indians gallop through the thundering herds. Moctezuma's lost city stands again, a gleaming fairy dream in the Mexican mountains.
Backwards spins the world round the sun as sabre-toothed tigers and woolly mammoths reclaim the Miracle Mile. Oil fields devolve and coagulate: dinosaurs shake the earth. Amphibians backstep, tail-first, into the sea, become armored fish, become trilobites. Now algae rules supreme. Now life becomes chemistry, predating the first, Frankensteinian, vitalizing, bolt.
Rocks are my only companions. They glow orange in a volcanic orgy. I am present at the birth of planets. Stars explode. Blackholes suck light into the back of beyond. I am face to face with the Prime Mover of the Universe. I interrogate my Creator at great length, under bright lights. I put the electrodes to the private parts. I force my Maker to confess His/Her perversity.
I don't, I snarl, appreciate being the butt of this cosmic joke. I refuse to get it, adamantly refuse to get it, refuse to hear the bell, open the door, pick up the phone, though I'm desperate for a wake-up call from a lifetime of sedation, from a five billion year coma. The clock is ticking, ticking, ticking. It's five minutes to midnight. My eyes are on the secondhand. Every instant is an eternity. This prank's gone on long enough. No more mystic wank. I'm alone, awaiting my punchline, and Goddammit, I expect to receive it, I will only accept it, I demand it, in the form of an apology.
--FIN--
ODE TO JOY
Right now, May feels like a gigantic waste of my time. Right now, June feels like a gigantic waste of my time. Spring feels like a gigantic waste of my time. Right now, time feels like a gigantic waste of my time. Right now, jerk off mags feel like a gigantic waste of my time. Right now, auto insurance feels like a gigantic waste of my time. Right now, everything feels like a gigantic waste of my time. Stargazing feels like a waste. Whalewatching feels like a waste. Girlwatching feels like a waste. Waistwatching feels like a waste.
Music appreciation: a waste. Gluttony: second, third, and fourth helpings of waste. Moderation and the golden mean: a double waste, an immoderately moderate waste. Politics: worse than a waste. Taking a dump: waste waste waste. Flushing: Waste of water and time. Philosophy: braindrain. Money: A waste of spirit in an expense of shame. Getting my rocks off: Sounds tempting, but don't waste the Big O on me. Family? Everyone should have one----except moi. Pets? Set 'em down. Cars? Flatten 'em. Runway models? Fatten 'em. Music execs? Bury 'em in platinum. Herman Wouk? Don't make me puke. King Farouk? A royal kook. Betty Boop? Out of the loop. Beyond Baroque? An inside joke. God? A ling cod, an old sod. Yo' mama? Mamarama. Strippers? Jam their zippers. Coke? Up in smoke. Cops? Paste 'em. Criminals? Waste 'em. Electric chairs? I'll take a pair. Prison? Derison. Heaven? Seven come eleven. Hell? Swell.
Fine clothes? Rags will do nicely. Nakedness? I'd offend my own eye. The truth? Which one? Lies? Sties in our eyes. Darkness? That I might be able to see. Chill? Let me think...I might be able to warm up to that...if it didn't make me ill. Icebergs? Entomb me in one. I'll take a round the world voyage. If I'm lucky, maybe I'll bump into another Titanic and take us both down. The future? Looks black black black. Yoga? Why don't you just crack my back on a railroad track and make a swift end of it? Gymnasiums? I'd rather have a chalazion. Animals? Give me naugahyde. Plants? Only in unheated cans with plenty of preservatives. Blubber? I do it every day. Trees? Are for the birds. Turds? Now your talking my language. Wars? I carry my own, it's psycho-civil; I'm seceding from myself, then crushing my rebellion.
Bosses? Line 'em up against the nearest wall. Workers? What are they, chumps? Cancer? I'll take a double dose, and top mine with chemotherapy and cobalt. Barium enemas? Only if you first hang me upside down from a meathook. Homework? Should ruin every child's life. Sentiment? Is for the soft. Boxing? Back to bare fisticuffs! I want to see eyeballs rolling like marbles round the ring. Slavery? Just the obscenity we need to revive. Jazz? For buppies. Rap? May it demoralize everyone in America under the age of 21. Bank robbery? Why the fuck not. And you, bank guard. Yeah, it's me, the guy with the pantyhose over his head and larceny on his mind. Kindly put a bullet in my ear on my way out, will you please? If I get any farther than the sidewalk it'll feel like a career, and we can't be having that.
Presidents? Put 'em all under house arrest in a Motel 6. Minimalls? I glory in them. The Internet? Just the denatured non-experience I yearn for. Green grass? Up your ass. A sharp stick in the eye? Shish kabob me brain, immediately. Depression? I'll take two, acute and chronic, and toss in some unhealable lesions, will you? Veterans of Foreign Wars? Yes! What a joy to down doughnuts with them on a Wednesday evening at the old Legion Hall, and afterwards, we'll go bowling!
Slipped discs? I'd like one between every cracked vertebra. Physical health? You can have mine. Endangered species? Clear 'em off the map! Hudson's Bay? The toilet of the Great White North. The Gulag Archipelago? Bring it back and stick me in it, I'm weeping with nostalgia!
The Champs Elysee? Stick it up your Arc de Triumph. Blue skies? Bring 'em down, and the birds that fly in them. Rainbows? Broken promises. Planets? Stick 'em in your hat, put it on your head and call it curls. Bugs? I'll take a heaping dumpster-full. Microbes? A trillion, please, in my frontal lobes. Fungus? Get it among-us. Despair? Can't you smell it in the fresh Spring air?
Unemployment? Yes! And with no compensation! Roofs? Off they come! Bring on the monsoon! Comets? Don't make me vomit. Rhinestones? In the Queen's cunt! Oatmeal? As much as you want. More than you want. And no raisins or brown sugar topping!
Sandwiches? Stale shit sandwiches only. Conscription? For everyone. Commitment? To the nearest asylum. Declevity? Yes, but no levity. Cavities? Drill me to oblivion, Doctor, I am your obedient pain-slave.
Drive-ins? They're so great to be alive-in. Kodiak bears? Maul me, momma. Toupees? Make mine slippery. Sy Sperling's hair club for men? I want permanent dismembership. Hatfields and McCoys? Bring back, and arm with assault weapons, the boys. Neanderthals? Welcome to The 21st Century, y'all, prognathous jaws and all. Infected genitals? I'll take seven dozen u-renitals.
I'm beginning to feel ever so much better. Thanks for hearing me out. Michigan Malicia? Give 'em more clout. World Trade Center? Bomb it benter and benter. Fear? Draw me near. Hopelessness? I bleatingly confess. Sex? Only with Tyrannosaurus Wrecks. Loneliness? Yes, I embrace it, I'm so blessed.
Craps? Snake eyes. Snake eyes. Snake eyes. Roulette? Bet it all on double zero. Emperors? I'll take Nero. What about Caligula? I couldn't give a figula. Fistulas? Love 'em, yearn for 'em, especially on limp wristulas.
Draft me murder me flay me tax me divorce me betray me abandon me deceive me exploit me ravage me loot me pollute me enslave me infect me vivisect me, eviscerate me, plait me, upbraid me, berate me, castrate me, tar me, feather me, run me out on a rail, lynch me, pinch me, steal my youth and age me old, get inside my head and make my brain a jello mold.
Make every night be Sunday night, make every morning Monday morning. Give me a 4 hour daily commute on the 405 Freeway. Appoint me dogcatcher to the world, and let rabies run rampant amongst my fourfooted furry friends. Darken the sky, vanquish the light, cast me in shadow, morning noon and night. Never thank me when you can wank me.
Wake me wake me wake me from this urban nightmare. From here on out, I want my misery rustic. Rust all my tools. Scatter my bones. Strip me of my loved ones and I'll roam the fields alone. Make my epitaph the cry of the northern loon.
Bore me bore me bore me silly. Willy nilly. Ignore me. Give me Bob Dole. Stick my head upon a pole. Gaily 'doze me into a mass grave. Celebrate the cowardly and desecrate the brave. If you can't cremate me, flop my naked limbs like angel hair, like fish bait, like the forgotten legions of the damned, into a hole of my own making.
Array the hordes of Genghis Khan before me. Give me an ultimatum which I cannot accept. Storm my walls, sack my city, rape my women, slaughter my children, make a pyramid of the skulls of my countrymen, and save me out for special torture.
I'm a Crusader, climbing a crenulated wall, taking cauldrons of hot pitch in my face. I'm a Saracen, skewered by a Christian sword.
I'm the abandoned 4th wife of a fertile, syphilitic, nomadic patriarch, giving birth, after 36 hours of lonely labor,in a cougar-infested mountain meadow. No midwife is in sight.
The sun is going down on my world. When I awake, all is scoured, waxed, sparkling, and running and flying backasswards towards the beginning of time. The buffalo and the passenger pigeon return en masse, a hundred million billion strong. High plains Indians gallop through the thundering herds. Moctezuma's lost city stands again, a gleaming fairy dream in the Mexican mountains.
Backwards spins the world round the sun as sabre-toothed tigers and woolly mammoths reclaim the Miracle Mile. Oil fields devolve and coagulate: dinosaurs shake the earth. Amphibians backstep, tail-first, into the sea, become armored fish, become trilobites. Now algae rules supreme. Now life becomes chemistry, predating the first, Frankensteinian, vitalizing, bolt.
Rocks are my only companions. They glow orange in a volcanic orgy. I am present at the birth of planets. Stars explode. Blackholes suck light into the back of beyond. I am face to face with the Prime Mover of the Universe. I interrogate my Creator at great length, under bright lights. I put the electrodes to the private parts. I force my Maker to confess His/Her perversity.
I don't, I snarl, appreciate being the butt of this cosmic joke. I refuse to get it, adamantly refuse to get it, refuse to hear the bell, open the door, pick up the phone, though I'm desperate for a wake-up call from a lifetime of sedation, from a five billion year coma. The clock is ticking, ticking, ticking. It's five minutes to midnight. My eyes are on the secondhand. Every instant is an eternity. This prank's gone on long enough. No more mystic wank. I'm alone, awaiting my punchline, and Goddammit, I expect to receive it, I will only accept it, I demand it, in the form of an apology.
--FIN--
posted by mobydoug at 12:30 AM
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