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Jurassic Lincoln

"After I shag this would-be hippy chick dinosaur dinner
I'm gonna save them black folks from slavery."



I'm having meatloaf tonight.

No, not that meatloaf. This loaf.


Deciduous splendor

My sweet Indian summer, I turned and you were gone.
See more here. Indian summer: Deciduous splendor


Renaissance Self Exploration

"Caaaastle Grayskull...I have two of them?"

Orchestra Pranks New Guy

[Sung to the tune of Jethro Tull's Locomotive Breath]

My felt hat wearing madness
My wired hopeful fate
Cause me to eat no dinner
I need no fucking plate

From my chair I watch them sweetly
Blinking not my eyes
And when the crowd they grab the handles
Of their dollar store squirt guns
No way I’ll live this down

Read more here


libation creation station

I sat window-side, in order to soak up the atmosphere. Besides the sights and sounds of a bustling Detroit summer evening, I was planning on soaking up about three times the daily recommended allowance of Armenian martinis.

From the bar comes the clink of glass and the slush of ice. The pleasant sound of drinks being prepared has aroused my liver and turned on my saliva faucet.

From the bar comes the pleasant sight of a young woman with a big glass of gin.

“Was this gin hand-squeezed?” I ask her as she sets down the drink.

She smiles and laughs uneasily, as attractive young things are wont to do when a stranger in a plaid sport coat throws them the social equivalent of a boot to the uterus.

“I’m sure it is.” She smiles again and turns to leave me with my refreshment. I’m pretty sure she’s lying…but I hope to god she’s not.

The windows are huge and the city sprawls out in front of me, occasionally broken up by the passing pedestrian. Even though I’m the one looking out, I feel like the city is swimming around inside my fishbowl. I’m actually looking in, through the glass, watching. My chair…my beverage…surrounded by my creature comforts.

My fishbowl is so clean. I’ve noticed how clear the glass is, how transparent – like I could toss my coaster into the trashcan on the corner. I’m now in quite an agreeable mood, thanks to the gin and my unsullied surroundings.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I don’t mind slugging down Stroh’s in a cesspool of dimly lit litter and deviants. Hell, I’ve probably even nodded off in such an establishment after the high life got a little too high…I’m just saying…I’m not in the mood for that type of ambiance right now. Plus, I’m not looking to soil the plaid.

Right now, I’m looking to watch Fox and Tiger foot traffic.

Right now, I want to drink gin and vodka, long and luxuriously, until my brain begins to hum along. And then I want to wash it all down with a couple glasses of porter.

I want to reprise the playful banter with the waitress now that I have gin as my wingman. After all, I’m wittier with a drink in hand…


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R.I.P. Studs Terkel

Your penchant for coherent observance and the understanding of the brilliance of the everyman will be missed. More than you could imagine.

"Curiosity did not kill this cat."