Harvest Moon Special

A spectacularly obnoxious noise dominates the conversation. Of course, without you even realizing it, it's your own nasal whistle that occurs every time you speak. But hell, he's not listening now anyway, he's not even capable with his depleted mental state. Why would you explain to him the primary principles of existence anyway? Do you think he even possesses a shit goblet of respect for your thoughts in that 10-day old cantaloupe brain he's got? He doesn't. You should have realized it. He's driving the car propelled by the human chain. He understands more about you than you do, but mutually, you don't give two shits either. He wears a Jesus sticker on his leg, under his pants, and screams obscenities at his fallen forefathers. He visualizes the now with contempt for the past. It's his fuel. He'd kill you if it wouldn't cause him judicial harm. He squirts venom from his left eye. It's aqua-blue and smells like corn chips. It will infect you.

Anyway, as much power as the man holds, just keep stickin' it to him. What does it really matter anyway? At the end of the day there's nothing worse that could be done to you than to have your bowels ripped out through your left ventricle and out a freshly cut hole in your armpit. That's what it's like to have your precious principles ground out on the pavement.

Times like this call for extreme measures. The harvest moon provides that. It provides a likely antidote for any number of obnoxious tainted cells. You've proven yourself worthy per last year's Renaissance Festival. You, dressed up in elven gear, rode into the sunset on the back of your morals, creaky, dried and withering in the wind, as with the life that we've been brought. The penultimate in life, just before the last breath. The Harvest Moon Special, just like the Winter Solstice Camp that you attended, can be a precursor of soul lament, just like your family's ill-will towards you. Take a timeout, go to the event, and grind down your self-esteem to a nub, at the level that it ought to be at. Have a good dream, dreamer.

This can not be solved by a John Denver song

That's what I said, as I threw some old papers to the car floor. The situation couldn't even be salvaged by "Rocky Mountain High (Colorado)." What a frustration. There's usually much peace through mediation in that song. I felt like the power of my soul (what was left} was violently ripped from it's malnourished tendrils. We'll just wait to see if John Denver can be used advantageously for the next problem.

Have you bought any new music lately? I haven't, and I don't too much appreciate that you even call that shit with the auto-tuner music. You know, the technology that was popularized about 10 years ago by Cher that made her sound like a fresh, new android? Here's a piece of information for you: she only used that (and other machinations) because she can't sing... never could after she made the movie "Mask." That movie touched her in such a way that the thought of singing was unbearable.

Speaking of new music, Chrome Cobra just released their third (and best to date) studio album. It features drummer Nell Beason on two tracks and Ovis Persimmon on back-up vocals for the song, "You should have reached in there." Wow, what a relief to hear some real music again. People that dress up in suits to convince you of their legitimacy in selling music are everywhere around you. Beware. Those fuckers will sell you three Garth Brooks cassette tapes without blinking an eye. Cassette tapes may be less expensive, but finding a good tape player these days is like trying to give yourself a decent haircut.

As a primary note, I'm still training hard. The big day is now on the foreseeable horizon, and I'll see you then. No shortcuts will be allowed, and believe me, I'll know if you've taken any. We'll hash out everything, with brutal honesty taken to a new literal level, and any corrupt thought patterns will be identified and caressed. The caressing will indicate the level of poison in the thoughts.

Last issue: a health care warning has been issued. Some of us will be losing health care in the next while. The method of ruling by threat is nothing new, and I'm sure we've all experienced this on different levels in our lives. The Republican mind works primarily on the principle of armed death threat, whereas the Democrats prefer more light-hearted methods of telling you you're gonna die. Obama also said, "...if you're gonna die, die with your boots on." No doubt, health care is a major issue, and I'm a proponent of a socialized commie system. None the less, a threat is a threat. I will defend myself by first by getting a box of gauze pads, and second by procuring a doctor of my own. Shit, just three years ago I was buying plastic sheeting and duct tape to prepare for chemical attack. Do they include these government threat programs in the inflation rate? Fuck.