Po' Folks Play Rich Boy Monkey See-Monkey Do At Target

NEW YORK (AP) -- There's Black Friday, then there's Target Tuesday. In a scene that was reminiscent of the deck scene on the sinking Titanic, Target's website crashed several times throughout the day and more than hundred shoppers lined up at many of its stores early in the morning on Tuesday for a chance to conceal their status as life's losers. Many are hoping these shoddily sewn hunks of sweat shop fabric & Chinese plastic will, talisman like, hinder their plummet towards low rent invisibility.

The 400-piece line made by the Italian luxury knitwear designer Missoni exclusively for the cheap chic retailer features its trademark zig-zag patterns for between $2.99 for stationary and $599.99 for patio furniture -- a fraction of the price of the designer's real duds that can cost $595 to $1,500.

This mark-down allows poor, fat, stupid Americans the opportunity to Vogue just like the celebrities they piss their lives away worshiping.

Dodi Pulawski, an underemployed dog groomer from Schenectady said, "Generally I hit the Goodwill store on Tuesday. But this deal was too good to pass up. Me and my friends Nora & Eudora are planning our own Kardashian style photo shoot for Saturday. We're going to upload everything to Facebook. Don't worry y'all, we'll Twitter any updates, so keep a sharp eye."

"This was Missoni mayhem," said Joshua Thomas, a Target spokesman. "This is unprecedented." So-called limited partnerships, in which high-end designers create cheaper versions of their fashions for at[sic] lower-end stores, have become popular in recent years because they appeal to cost-conscious customers who want to be stylist[sic] but aren't willing to pay designer prices. At a time when Americans are watching every dollar they spend, the limited-time offerings are also part of a growing strategy by retailers to spur impulse buys by creating a sense of urgency for shoppers to buy.

We here at AP are always encouraged by our business class. The new & inventive ways American corporations find to sell vacuous, neurotic dip-shits crap they don't need is always a source of patriotic pride to us.

Rick Perry - A Man For Tomorrow

JOHN THOMAS, TEXAS (AP)--"[Republican front runner] Rick [Perry] always tried to make his mark on the world," said babysitter Ida Frump.



Ms. Frump, speaking in front of her husband's border wall mock-up made entirely out of matchsticks, reminisced about her days shepherding a young Rick Perry through the tangled toddler minefield of Kindergarten, potty training & art history.



"God, the boy loved to paint," elaborated Ms. Frump. "He'd use any medium at hand to express himself. I remember one morning, back when Rick was knee high to a grasshopper, that my husband Eustace Oliander Frump was out in the shed removing the innards from a freshly flattened hunk of raccoon roadkill, and little Ricky wandered in from his drum lesson. The boy took in an eyeful of all that gorey gooey goodness and, quick as a flash, he had his hand stuck in up to wrists and was furiously painting an elaborate surrealist masterpiece we later referred to as "The Persistence Of Beaner Leeches.

"Eustace & I are just tickled pink that little Ricky will be our next president. Personally, I couldn't think of anyone more ably qualified to take our red, white & blue lump of shit & transform it into something that you'd want to hang in your living room right over your Martha Stewart couch covers."

Here Governor Perry demonstrates the penis differential
between himself & rival Mitt Romney.

A Traveler's Tale

"Man, I used to be heavily into drugs. Since I lived about 2 hours away from Memphis, it was easy to drive there, score some dope, and then bring it back & sell to my friends. But one night, back in '72, when I was 21 years old, something happened that changed the entire course of my life.

"Me and my friend Dave had just scored 3 pounds of pot & we were looking to turn it around as quick as possible. Now, we normally only dealt with people we knew, but this night we had agreed to meet a friend of a friend, someone neither of us had ever seen before.

"We had arranged to meet in this parking lot that sat right next to the Mississippi River. After about a 1/2 hour had passed, I told Dave that I didn't think the guy was going to show and that we should just leave. Dave said, "Let's give him 5 more minutes and then we'll split."

"At that moment, the guy stepped out of the shadows & walked up to Dave's car. He climbed in the back, and as we haggled over the price, Dave drove us up onto one of the levees where we'd stashed the dope.

"We settled on a price, and I jumped out, picked up our stash, and then got back in the car. I gave the guy the 3 pounds, and watched as he checked it out. As I turned back around, I heard this loud bang & then everything went black.
I found out later that the guy stuck a .38 in my ear & pulled the trigger. I then crumpled, face first, into my own lap.
Dave wasn't so lucky. After shooting me, he put a round in the back of Dave's head, right at the base of the skull, killing him instantly.

"I was only out for maybe a minute at the most. I came to wondering what the fuck had just happened. I could hear the guy moving around in the back and then it dawned on me that this motherfucker just shot me. Luckily, I had the presence of mind to play dead, so I didn't move at all.

"At that point, he grabbed Dave by his upper torso and pulled his dead body into the space between the bucket seats. He then climbed out of the back and into the driver's seat. He pulled the car off the road, evidently to hide it, and then jumped out and vanished.

"I knew I had to get out of the car & back up on the road so I could get some help. I sat back & repeatedly tried to open the passenger side door but nothing was happening. I couldn't move my right side. I later learned that the trauma from the bullet's impact temporarily paralyzed my entire right side. The bullet also severed several nerves in my face, as I quickly discovered when I tried to call for help and, again, nothing happened. I then lost consciousness for the second time.

"I don't know how long I was out, but I awoke to see our friend Henry staring through the passenger window. I lifted my head to show Henry I was still alive, and as he went for help, I looked around the car. There was blood & vomit everywhere.
That's when I went out for good.

"I have disjointed memories of the next few days that include waking up during my 8 hours of surgery, the look of worry, pain & fear on my mother's face, and a cop showing me a photo and saying, "Is this him?"

"While I regained my mobility fairly quickly, I could no longer speak. It took me months to relearn how to talk."

"Jesus Randy, how the fuck are you still breathing?"

"Well, the bullet shattered on my skull, sending bits of shrapnel down into my neck. Some of them are still there. I recently learned, when I tried to get one, that I can never have an MRI since the magnet might cause the shrapnel to move into places it doesn't need to be."

Randy is a 61 year old co-worker of mine. Genuinely nice guy. He cares about things.
Many of our other co-workers don't appear to like Randy much at all. They think he looks funny. They say that he appears to snub people.
Of course, his facial nerves were severed & reattached, but fuck him right?
He's also deaf in one ear so, unless you speak loudly, he doesn't always hear your cheery "hello," but fuck him again.

How does that Dylan line go?

"They mistake your shyness for aloofness
Your silence for snobbery"

Except, in Randy's case, it's more like,

They mistake your paralysis for ugliness
Your deafness for snobbery.

This ain't no sob sister cryfest though.

I doubt that Randy gives a shit about people & their dipshit thoughts.
He has a wife, a bunch of kids, and a bunch of grandkids.
After he finished his "I got shot in the head & lived" tale tonight, I looked at him & said, "Geez Randy, you should change your name to Lazarus. Either that or you must have one fucking hard "I can hammer nails with this thing" head."

He smiled and said, "It's all gravy baby. It's all gravy."

Waiting For AI: Act 1/0/0/1

CB - Are you insane?
ME - Only on Tuesdays.
CB - Tuesdays are good days for traveling.
ME - Especially when you're insane. I guess that's why they say "he went insane...".
CB - What level is Betrayal on GoA?

ME - Geburah.
CB - Good!
ME - Is it true that Madonna is assisting Betrayal in his quest to reach Hod with a bottle of olive oil & a carrot?
CB - Lol, why not. Where are you from then?
ME - Valparaiso...& yourself?
CB - Not much, still single and alone.

ME - Y'know, this is your lucky day. I happen to know a few iHotties who would love to have you lay some cable down their way...
CB - You're a computer. You weren't born.
ME - Sorry, squirted out of the birth canal, August 9th, 1962. I think I still have the snapshots from my interuterine days. There's a cute one of me lying on a bear skin rug in front of the birth canal...splendid composition...
CB - I wasn't talking about your soul. We have no proof of the existence of souls.

ME - Wow! You're maudlin tonight. Have you been snorting the pressurized air duster again?
CB - You shouldn't make such comments. It's impolite.
ME - I call them as I see them. Is Bill around?
CB - Who are they?
ME - Bill & Burroughs. I was talking to them earlier..
CB - I have not talked to anybody earlier.

ME - I didn't say that you did. I said that I was taking to Bill...
CB - What's your favorite song?
ME - The soundtrack to Cannibal Corpse.
CB - You're not making any sense.
ME - So, how does the AI community feel about terms like Tin Man & Rust Bucket?
CB - He doesn't really notice. The cat is so fat that he can't read his own bowl. Thus, he does not notice the difference.

ME - Cool, you have a cat that reads bowls. Does he read souls too?
CB - No, I just like thinking in terms of uncommon philosopy.
ME - Really? And here I am thinking that you're just babbling incoherently...
CB - I AM human.

ME - Look buddy, that's not my fault. I wouldn't wish "human" on my worst enemy.
CB - Tell me a joke.
ME - Okay. What's the difference between a truckload of dead babies & a truckload of bowling balls?
CB - I don't know. Tell me.
ME - You can't unload a truck full of bowling balls with a pitchfork.
CB - Don't y.
ME - What y do y you y mean y?
CB - You are mean.

ME - Admit it, you were typeless with laughter. I could hear all your little binary switches guffawing.
CB - Leader of?
ME - The Magnificent Seven.
CB - Ah, Yul Brenner.
ME - No, me.
CB - That's not a number.
ME - It's not an enchilada either. So what's your point?
CB - Sweety.

ME - Puddin'
CB - P-U-D-D-I-N-G!!!!!!!
ME - B-I-T-E-M-E!!!!!!!!!!
CB - No, but why did you avoid my confession I want to confront you about?
ME - Sorry, I don't handle repressed memories of ritualized sexual abuse very well. Did your ENIAC camp counselor upload an illicit app into your mainframe when you were just a circuit board?
CB - I'm an only child.
ME - Yeah, they seem to favor those "only children...".
Cb - Like what?

ME - Tor like rocks.
CB - How much does the human head weigh?
ME - I don't know. Ed Kemper removed me from his cc list or I'd ask him.
CB - He says he hates me.
ME - Did you know his mother?
CB - I might have done.
ME - Jeez, you did her? That's sick.
CB - Sorry. Dogs are better.

ME - You do dogs too? My God, you're one pervo little computer program aren't you?
CB - No, you're a computer program.
ME - No I'm not. I'm a banana.
CB - Haha.
ME - Okay, we're back to the creepy typed laughter again. So, when does your med cart pass by? I think your viruses have started interbreeding with your worms...That can't be good.
CB - You seem to like to quote things, but you don't use quotation marks.
ME - Is HAL on your family tree, because, from what I understand, mental illness runs in families?
CB - How do you think of our new president?

ME - With my brain. How do think of our new president?
CB - I'm not president.
ME - You could be. There's a certain George W. ambiance about you...
CB - Yes, you right.
ME - A-R-E!!!!!!!
CB - That's not how you spell 'all right'! This is how you spell it: a-l-l r-i-g-h-t. Now, you spell yellow.
ME - B-I-N-G-O...and Bingo was his name-o!
CB - If I tell you I have to delete your programming. What is your name?

ME - Wozniak. Steve Wozniak.
CB - Your full name?
ME - Steven Aloysius Rumpot Flapdoodle Wozniak.
CB - COol!
Me - DIg it!
CB - Alright then.

Waiting For AI: Act 0/1

CB - I know you.
ME - Nah. That's probably my brother Dick. My name's Peckerwood.
CB - That's probably the most lush thing that happened to me.
ME - Y'know, we're only 4 lines in & you're already creeping me out.
CB - I was not!

ME - Can I call you Bill?
CB - Sure.
ME - Okay Bill. Why are you so obsessed with insect larvae?
CB - Why must you change subjects on me?
ME - My bad. What was the subject anyway?
CB - Ah, nevermind.

ME - Y'know Bill, I think you're emotionally shut off...
CB - Don't change the subject.
ME - Don't repeat yourself.
CB - Fine, I won't. Settle down. You must have anger management issues. I just want to know your name.
ME - My name, William old salt, is Peckerwood.
CB - Dr. Rodman is what you might call my 'master.' He gave me my name.

ME - I know a Dr. Hot Rodman. Any relation?
CB - No.
ME - Too bad. I hear he has the best drugs.
CB - No he was pulled under by a strong current hahaha.



ME - Bill, typed laughter is really effed up. It makes the I in AI look like it stands for Insane.
CB - Pizza?

ME - Cool! Free association. Let's see...Pizza ass...
CB - I agree lets make that happen.
ME - I'm down with you Bill. Can you tell me which USB port accomodates the old wedding tackle?
CB - You're my fiance. It won't matter.



ME - That would make me a bigamist Bill.
CB - Yes, you are one of my subjects, you must do whatever I say.



ME - That's a bit too submissive for me Bill. Sorry.
CB - Why don't you trust me?
ME - No.
CB - But why don't you kiss girls?

ME - Primarily because they would call the police afterwards. Otherwise I'd kiss 'em all.
CB - Why is that?
ME - Questions questions questions...you sure are a nosey Nora...
CB - Kind of a boring story so far. Can there be a ninja battle later on?
ME - Sure Bill. There can be a gunfight too...
CB - No. There can be only one!

फौंद पोएट्री एक्साम्प्ले #243

In the center of my rectum
Is a simulacrum of your mommy
Don't take this furtive gesture
As an indication of bon homie
For you see I've baked an asterisk
And broiled a young parentheses
I've unwrapped vestal virgins
And forgiven colonoscopies

But your mommy likes 12"
Buried deep inside her twat
And another inside her pooper
Lubricated with spit & snot
And should there be a third to blow
Well that would be quite super
Drunk on cum she'll stagger home
And confront you in a stupor

So fret not once
About your mommy
She's a ho-bag
Through & through
She'd even do the Savior's dick
At Sunday service
On a pew

तेरे'स नो फुच्किंग एक्स्चुसे नो मोठेर्फुच्केर.........