PEAR PIMPLES FOR HAIRY FISHNUTS

Long discussion with several people including Mordechai L. on FB today. From whence these nuggets: "scream "UNDEAD" and run", and "If you are a grown adult, and someone lets you know the conversation is over, and you ask "but why" over and over, you're not actually an adult".
Plus 'unclean things" and 'witchcraft'.

And, pursuant thereto, I have a new-found respect for the Wu Tang Clan and My Little Pony.


MY LITTLE HOMEY

[SOURCE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NVGI6mhfJyA.]

BUCK IT ALL

[SOURCE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WwN5cb7vJhU.]

Mordechai L. avers that no well-run household should be without all, or nearly all, of Bloom County that was ever written.
I agree, but I assert that IN ADDITION THERETO, one should also have Calvin & Hobbes, Sherman's Lagoon, and Frumpy the Clown.
Plus Chibi Vampire. ALL of Chibi Vampire.

Chibi Vampire is the heartwarming tale of a defective bloodsucker who in her teenage years gets a mega-crush on the odd guy in her high school with the scary eyes.
You will laugh, you will cry, you will eat garlic.
These are all good things, little lobster.
Please rub butter all over.

[Apropos of nothing, my upstairs neighbor just thumped the floor and howled like a wolf. Glad to know I'm not the only one in the building.]

None of these resemble My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic.

Good lord, I can't even read the Wikipedia article.

I wanna scream "does not compute".

And bury my head.


On the other hand, the fantasy that members of the Wu Tang Clan are actually Bronies at heart is really rather charming. Big bad rapstars with foul vocabularies privately dressing as little blue and pink horsey-worseys and nurturing their softer side, oh boy fellas, I'm so there!

I've got a Hello Kitty backpack. It's just the right size for a Glock 17 plus a box of extra bullets. Blazer 9mm, but WWB 115gr target ammo (100 rounds) is better. I mention this ONLY to show that I too am in touch with my gentler self. I actually keep six briars, two pipe tobaccos, tampers and matches, and a bundle of bristly cleaners in it.

Ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies!

[He just howled again. Rabies much?]


Honestly, I never listened much to rapp until I discovered the Wu Tang and ML Ponies genre. Nope, not going to detail the link between Mordechai L.'s insistence on Bloom County as the palliative and bromine for all ailments of the spirit and 'Ponies'.

It makes sense to me. And speaks to my soul.
I have a softer feminine side.
Penguin-like.


I concede that this essay makes no sense whatsoever. Much of it was influenced by an inflammation in my right leg that I've had since that cold spell last December, as well as the migraine that started yesterday afternoon and just kept on ticking all the through till bedtime.

I've had a rough night, and I hate the f***ing Eagles, man.

Beware of penguin sex-gargoyles.




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