Tuesday, November 14, 2006

Dualling banjo lips. Cross town rivalry yields 2 sets of twin corpses.

Top of the morning gents,

I'm a particularly bright hombre, but I fucking hate
it when I can't make sense of people.

Some shit folks say is strictly off the hook.

I have an old friend named Baird from a million
fucking years ago, a chess partner and book monger I
pilfered pulp from the second he was done reading the
damn thing. He's old friend cuz he's pert near fucking
20 years older'n me. Now that's fucking old.

Figured I'd endeavor to comprehend what the heck he
and his mystical tweak case buddies were squacking
esoteric. And shit.

This rag tag team of wise men was full of high-minded
philosophical phrases and slogans. Some phrases like
"don't forget to look for the magic." Ain't that
ambiguous as shit?

My retort was to quote Emilio Estevez from the cult
classic movie Repo Man, "Hey Miller, did you guys,
like, eat a lot of acid, back in the hippy days?"

Funny fucker ain't I?

The other hippy dude that hiked the North Cascades
Highway in the middle of winter stated that he's
partaken of the miracle of the wafer.

That one has stumped me for a hunnert goddamned years.


What the fuck is the miracle of the wafer Mr. Acid
Head Maggot Infested Hippy Dude?

Meantime, yesterday afternoon, I was telling Mr. Craig
a silly Finnish Grimm's Fairy Tale how all Nordic
children have 3 lives. The first life is inside yer
mum, a veritably dark sensory deprivation tank. The
second life is yer walking, talking, shitting and
pissing life. Your third life starts when yer lifeless
corpse is pitched into a hole with pinecones and
seedlings dumped on yer face, then dirt.

Do you suppose it's such a bad notion to build
magnificent haunted forests, yet never see a cemetery?


Silly old wives tale. Nowadays, good Norse folk get
buried in metal canisters just like ya'll. Their
timber and pulp industries are pert near robotic and
all scrap is pelletized and shipped to rural dudes
analogous to heating assistance.

Folks all throughout rural Finland heat their homes
with cool bin-conveyer belt fed forced air
pellet-burning stoves: high tech and super efficient.
Some villages have retrofitted cast iron pot bellied
stoves, barrel stoves and upright ceramic stoves
designed to appear like old masonry fireplaces.

There is minimal ash with forced air combustion
stoves. Best of all, the million sacks of scrap timber
pellets are free ninety free.

A lot of rural electricity beyond the Nordic Power
Grid is derived from scrap timber pellet combined heat
and power conveyer belt fed blast furnaces. The
electricity AND heat are circulated ‘round town to
heat their public swimming pools and city hall
buildings like the Antoski City Hall and Municipal
buildings in Galena.

Like most of remote arctic residences, you'll see
above ground utilities boxes or underground utilidors
quite similar to the gas well buildings ye see all
over Barrow. The City of Helsinki went one step
further in efficiencies and heat their sidewalks with
the radiant surplus heat.

No shit, all winter the sidewalks are either wet or
steamy dry. Ain’t so bad to pass out shit faced tits
up. But when ye park yer drunk ass crooked in the
wrong lane yer lips will slide out of yer Sorrell’s
and onto warm pavement.

Got off track there, I was talking with Commander
Craig about the Finnish Grimm’s Fairy Tale of
Huckleberry’s 3 lives: prenatal, upright and walking,
then crushed and digested by saplings and roots of
giant straight grained trees.

During my retelling I flashed upon the miracle of the
wafer clap trap that I remembered Baird’s hippy assed
autistic hallucinatory spastic friend spewing a
million fucking years ago, so I asked Mr. Craig. Dave
spends most of his waking hours reading diverse
scripture and writing even weirder shit, so who better
to ask what the fuck the wafer miracle is all about.

To which he told me.

“Enlightenment, occurs when a lad discovers that he is
made Godly, much more than just from mere dust.”

“Or phrased more philosophically secular for the lay
person, ‘virtue is it’s own reward.’”

Gotta love that old guy, but I don’t think Mr. Craig
cleared up shit. Now I have a much more complex
conundrum to wrestle whilst baked like a clam: does
LSD turn senile hippy brains into popcorn farts in a
dust storm?

You boys really oughta get better medication for your
ED/ADD. You’ve become vicious voyeurs into the mind of
one sick puppy engrossed in self analysis mind
failure.

Hard nipples and drippy dick: yup, me too. Time to
whip out the gun magazines.

Back to the point of my quest for knowledge about the
wafer miracle: I’m still in the dark.

I told Mr. Craig I knew a little bit about the mark of
Cain whereupon Mr. Craig chimed with surprising speed,
“That’s why none of you guys make many friends. At
least nobody pesters you.”

Don’t ye just hate it when ye gotta put up with
smarter fuckers?

“But what the hell does the wafer miracle mean Dave?”

“Oh, that’s easy.” “Ye ain’t just baked unleavened Jew
bread, humans are the flesh of God more so than any
even the angels.”

Muchos Gracias David. Ask a president of any church
stupid questions and yer bound to get a square peg
jammed into yer round ear hole.

Thought provoking, like a slap across the face like a
stray bullet zapping ye in yer face and neck, badge or
hand. Ouch, did I awake in Shitbanks or Los
Anchoragua?

Thanks Commander Craig, I needed that.

I’m clueless in all aspects and manners. I don’t know
shit about humans, but a bit about human nature. Ain’t
no rationale motive behind irrational crimes of
passion and anger, we’ll just have to wait until the
Trooper investigation solves these two senseless
killings.

I'll continue my constant comment on matters domestic
and violent, perchance even speculate the 5 W's behind
random victims of dumber violence.

Karl.

PS. We got another graying gunslinger on board. Take a
look at the above email addresses and try to guess
which former KPD hit squad leader and bullet dump
extraordinaire is again with us.

My blessings continually grow around me.

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