I’m just glad we don’t have to eat in 140 calories or less.

Just ate my “maybe god does love me” meal of the week: Gyros omelet with sweet potato fries and an English muffin the size of a discus at Clarke’s. Damn it!

© Brock Rizy 2010

Written after I was wrecked by the heartbreaking West Wing season three finale, Posse Comitatus, on November 8th, 2006. Revised April 29, 2010

…

“I got a couple emails to my artwork website’s inbox from Japan. I can’t read any of it, so I don’t know if it’s just junk. I never get junk at that address.” I confessed curiously to DJ Huxtable while I drove over the I-8564578298 overpass on Scrimshaw pkwy.

“What an awful name for a street.” Hux belted, gazing past his reflection at the street lamp lit army-green street sign.

CROCKETT: What? Interstate 8 billion, five hundred sixty four million, five-

DJ HUXTABLE: Scrimshaw, you dick. I should harpoon every whaler I can.

CROCKETT: Listen to this vegan extremist. You think that’s not worse than killing whales?

HUX: I’ll make artwork out of their teeth, then. Or maybe I can just take one arm and use that bone. I’ll make scrimshaw dildos and sell them back to their lonely landlocked wives. Or maybe a femur would be better for- The femur’s the thigh bone, right?

“If it’s human, it isn’t scrimshaw, it’s gotta be a marine mammal.” I thanked archbishop internet for the knowledge it once provided. Continue reading Post Posse Comitatus

Homeless people love it.

Is the “castle” in “White Castle” an abbreviated phonetic combination of “castor oil?” I haven’t even finished the fourth one and I’m already on the toilet! Aw, you’re talking to me while you shit?! Brmp! Splap.

© Brock Rizy 2010