In A Perfect World, You'd Complain That You Were Bored
Where's that old Mr. Frog? What's he up to now? I gave him a bucket full of nails for hammering and a list of things to hammer nails into -- including the new redwood coffee table. What kind of "environmentalist" owns a redwood coffee table? Hey man, I stole that thing from the White House! It's symbolic of the STRUGGLE! No use in trying to hide behind that racing forum -- tonight's the night -- we're going home, no matter what the mayor says, no matter what the police say, no matter what Creepy Old Dr. Ulmer says -- you get the picture? "Yeah, I get it," I said -- and man, did I ever.
Let's Have Fried Chicken For Dinner
We're back with that old-timey gospel rock and roll, something my great-grandfather would listen to at night when he thought everyone was asleep -- everyone was, except for Filthy Ed, who'd be practicing his dirty karate down in the basement, and me -- I stay awake with radio signals in my ears and the keys beneath my fingers, getting it all down in human form. I'm up in the attic playing with an old record and old dial tones -- old ones from years ago, when the programming began, at least for me. Let's just get on with this transaction, OK? Here we are, you with a suitcase full of hundred dollar bills and me with this bucket full of deep-fried diamonds.