joshdrilling

Idle tiez sink inside open arms( open wide) you're with me tonight

I live in a neighborhood where there are a lot of rabbits. To say they are plentiful is an understatement. I've always wanted to nab one out of the yard and cook it up, but I'd stop myself. "It doesn't taste good," I would say, say to myself, internally. "If it tasted good people would be constantly catching these motherfuckers, cooking them up, and wearing rabbit fur dusters when they go down to the grocery store." I psyched myself out repeatedly, until one day, I was in a small restaurant, and they were serving rabbit. Those motherfuckers were serving them.

I ordered the rabbit, and it was delicious (I am a living example of dianetics). To say that rabbit tastes like chicken is like saying pork tastes like chicken. It's lean meat, it has a subtle, biding flavor, and when I ate up the first rabbit, I gnawed the remains until other diners stopped eavesdropping. Every last bit of it was delicious. (I was getting ready to pick up and get out, to leave, but I really felt attached.) I ordered more.

The details are best left unspoken, but two days ago, I acquired one local rabbit. I'm cooking the bulk of it for dinner tonight, but as a sneak preview, I removed the heart, kidneys, and liver to cook separately.

have you heard the robin williams bit? where he talks abou ta stealth bomber costing one billion dollars? cant be seen cant be detected, so why do we need one? so let's stage a big explosion out in siberia, and the russians will be like 'shit we gotta get one of those too' and pretty soon they're spending all this money. so let's build a stealth army a stealth navy a whole fleet of stealth military.

what the heck! how is that different than poltics arguments in the tv?

videomedias are the cocain of the 80s

in a few couple of days i'll be in a suit for two weeks

'he who leadeth into captivity shall go into captivity'

hey bible! bible! what a weird thing to say, weirdo

with my mind -she- runs

impressions of masculinity via rimbaud, tom wilkinson, bukowski:
There's this, this panicked associate sprinting along beside me, scribbling in a notepad, and suddenly she starts screaming, and I realize we're standing in the middle of the street, the light's changed, there's this wall of traffic, serious traffic speeding towards us, and I... I-I freeze, I can't move, and I'm suddenly consumed with the overwhelming sensation that I'm covered with some sort of film. It's in my hair, my face... it's like a glaze... like a... a coating, and... at first I thought, oh my god, I know what this is, this is some sort of amniotic - embryonic - fluid. I'm drenched in afterbirth, I've-I've breached the chrysalis, I've been reborn. But then the traffic, the stampede, the cars, the trucks, the horns, the screaming and I'm thinking no-no-no-no, reset, this is not rebirth, this is some kind of giddy illusion of renewal that happens in the final moment before death. And then I realize no-no-no, this is completely wrong because I look back at the building and I had the most stunning moment of clarity. I... I... I... I realized Michael, that I had emerged not from the doors of Kenner, Bach, and Ledeen, not through the portals of our vast and powerful law firm, but from the asshole of an organism whose sole function is to excrete the... the-the-the poison, the ammo, the defoliant necessary for other, larger, more powerful organisms to destroy the miracle of humanity. And that I had been coated in this patina of shit for the best part of my life. The stench of it and the stain of it would in all likelihood take the rest of my life to undo.

I say, stay in there, I'm not going
to let anybody see
you.

here are your heroes with bodies like athletes where are your rough shaven well dressid idols

this is a real picture! look at how expressive! holy cow! i found my belt a few days ago but then lost it again, this morning i woke up with it (and pants) on do u no lenord cohen? do u think there are classes of people? like at birth, erverybody gets like a three stat poitns to spend on like four or five characteristics that help determine what kind of person you become: ambition, adaptability, charm, wit, attractiveness? and then like empathy and curiousity cost double or something but then the different striations are genetic advantages, like each one is another stat point. some people geet two points (here's looking at you: wyoming, prog-rock); better people get three stat points: standard people. but then like, do some people get four or five points and become these charming-intellects with big plans and bigger bootys? is that where the sociopathic comedienne comes from? how do you explain the distribution? is it chance? aint humanity too awesome for chance to have gotten this far? yknow we're devolving? that's not really the right word but it's the right idea, which is more important tuff sigh yes wimbledon! wwimbledonimblwimbledonedonwimwimbledonbledon

weeping willow is bawling the light

i fully endorse the song Great Waves
and shawn marshall for singing it without getting excited, that must've been hard

when time passes like a tugboat

so, i'm real drawn to this idea that humanity (regardless of its neato inventioning: internet, weaponized nukes, medical marijuana) is cyclical

and really just moves in grooves and repeats itself on a time schedule. especially in economic terms, yknow everyone was all hyped when this happened that the great depression pt. tew (revisited edition) would happen. it's probably not going to.

but,in fifteen years we'll have another neat market crash and everyone ell get scared again. so a cycle!

the one i want to talk about is the postmodern one, where people are eemotionless do-ers. right? the 'what do you do when anything can be done' naif. christopherrichmond's 'effort to comprehend the totality of possibility, or to put it more precisely, to reject, utterly, any possibility exclusive of others.'

-actually that's just an idea i live near and is kind of unrelated but a verywell illustrated sentiment that describes some of mine pretty good

"the notion that human-beings can't bear too much reality"

On the notion that human-beings can't bear too much reality:
can they? if i told fatuma issa who's featured reguesting a loan from the KIVA.org this morning that after she could afford her son(s) --not daughter(s)-- transport to some prolific western country,

their flaccid social skills would dwarf their ability to communicate and fit into western business//reallife. that's way too much reality for Fatuma Issa, and that's not even all of it, that's just more than she should get.

last time the western man (men) bore too much reality (sometimes also called responsibility, which is evidently unbearable for contemporary next-generationers, as pomulgated by mgmt) was The Great War, when 40million biologically died and 120million psychologically died over the next fifteen years of the splendent reactionary Roaring 20s.
this time,

man is visibly avoiding too much reality, MGMT tells us --see 'time to pretend' aboev, the booming porn industry tells us --rehashed throatblowjobs and pretend breaastheaving orgasms keep from having to actually do The Real Thing with much virility or emphasis,

the proliferation of video games --where new demasculinized-men blow up nazis in call of duty to reassert their virulence, vigor, ability to manipulate ratherthan adapt. modern us is avoiding the reality bear with little shame.
so what's it gonna be?what's going to pop up between the screen and the dilated pupils that's going to rumble the generation? i hope it's a rick astley revolution

pd. how good is Mr. Mom? way good
annd relevant on account of 80% OF THE RECENTLY LAID-OFF ARE MALE
inless startling news 80% of the recently laid-on are male, heyoh! zing

the day is past and gone, the hour of death is near