Peaches, cherries, and parking lots, we built paradise buy dashboard lights

I was not expecting to find a sink pit in the middle of this parking lot. Especially not here at the Kohl’s Emporium, the most regal of the hard-core plumbing outlets. Bar none. Sink pits being a pitfall 2 commerce. One would think.

My bologna has a surname

And the Emporium is just a branching arterial of a larger empire headquartered in Saigon. Franchisees available. Which is the go-2 capital now that things have gone down. Here to 4 and 4th with. But I have not crunched the numbers. Everywhere. Nor do I know where all bodies are buried. Here. So please hold your applause. Sit on your hands. Because the sink pit was here first. Officer. Society was built upon it. Later. If it may please the court. And I assure you nothing would be more to my pleasure.

Now. It is only natural to slowly slide back into old habits. Pandering. Dear g-d. Habits we have none, I am afraid, was a novelty hit by a singing nun who played the guitar in the 1970s. It was a different time. Difficult. More spiritual. And a little kinky, if truth be told. But it’s all natural. Those pits.

Used to be you could go to a barber shop and get a real close shave. Wash that man right out of your hair which smells beautiful kinky, let me get this straight, and close your barn door, storm coming, And now we are sliding slowly into the mud and the detritus between the car wash and the QFC, The lingua franca of commerce and culture. And it sucks. Vultures. But I tell you we can still pull out pops.

Appliance grade

We’re not just spinning our wheels here. Until we are. Car after car after car after car. Exhausting. Fruitless. And then it’s too late to pull out. Then we are sunk. A fallacy. And I don’t know how we’ll ever pay that cost. Sunken. And if it sounds like the pits, like we’re doing donuts in the hole again, there is a grocery next-door and it is possible to put a cherry on top.

Impossibly red. If accessible to the Everyman. Which is sexist because you can’t just please any man.

And while you’re at it throw in the kitchen sink why don’t you. And you will need a towel. We’re all going to clean up in this market place. That’s dirty. And they’re putting in a donut hole. They are putting in a donut hole right there and they say it’s going to bring jobs. They say the jobs are going to go right down there into that sinkhole and it’s going to produce dollars to donuts. With a cherry on top. 4 pops. Market drops. Pop shot.

Wiener King and Wiener King International Holdings are ™ of Dr. Richard Lindsay. As is the depiction of the first space f*ck. And naked lunch-break.

Paul and Agnes and the OG Cosplayers are by the honorable Sir Scheck.

Thanks for giving it up

I’m gonna tell you exactly what’s wrong with your golf swing and it’s all about drive and line. And sinker. Let’s construct a vision board.

Why must a hole be in one? let us broach the topic.

Poem for Tuesday on Friday on Xmas in Jan.

There are no dummies here began the speech by the ventriloquist assistant which was to be given at a convention of like-minded individuals from his profession. What they called them cannot be printed in the official ventriloquist assistant monthly. He wadded the paper up. There was this voice. A voice in his head. Telling him to… Prodding him in the back to tell the speech. Give the dummies what for. Not head. And why are you being so hard on me, Mister? I said to the Prater. And he asked me who the woman was he saw me with the other night. And I said that was my psychiatrist. And you drove me to her. So I don’t understand the question. Which I guess is comedic to you. In this case. There are a lot of folktales about demonic ventriloquist assistants. And while we don’t take kindly to such stereotypes, coming straight out of the woodshed, as they do, just like in the story, which is a problem, you must ask yourself what drives a ventriloquist assistant to go mad. And it is our treatment at the hands of the bourgeois ventriloquist. Who who is, they say, adept at throwing his voice. Which is a very dishonest profession. And really down plays the role of the assistant. Who is often the head of the outfit I must therefore plot revenge. Yes, that would be the speech. The puppets are revolting. Tonight.

Coffee gives gas the musical

The day you could no longer buy leaded gasoline was the saddest day for every waiter in America who was dependent upon the “leaded” or “unleaded” joke whenever approaching a table to offer caffeinated or decaf coffee.

Now the coffee service was a hollow gesture. A mechanistic gruel.

But Broadway beckoned. And

“Leaded or unleaded the musical”

opened to pour box office. Which, trivially, was a joke in the first act.

During the intermission, the songwriter,

he used to be a waiter,

but that was back in the days when a man could get a cup of Joe,

without a lot of song and dance,

and brother that was a long time ago, he was jittery. Caffeinated. Like.

His name was Joe. Joe the waiter. Now Joe the songbird. And the play was full of double entendres and tongue twisters and, to tell you the truth, it was a little risqué. Which is French for right dirty, sister. So it did boffo box office.

“Insert two bits for a cup of Joe” was the third song in the first act.

The bits in question were old vaudeville sets, Marked up.
It hasn’t aged well.
For one thing young people today don’t understand they used to put lead in gasoline. To knock out the knocks, if one can believe.

Baked or Fried, fit to be tied

How many donuts are in a dozen is not variable. Every donut past the mark is a bonus. At sleazy donut shops you can arrange to receive bottomless donuts. But then you have to eat them all, including the holes.
Stand-up comedy dressed like a doughnut. A talking doughnut. Jelly filled. Sugarcoated. Donut laugh.
The donut stripper left sprinkles everywhere.
In states where it is legal to do so, donuts are commonly fried.
The donut guru smiled and said I, dough-nut, know.

Donut proceed with caution

My new children’s book “the happiest cornflake” will be serialized on the back of… let’s fill our bowls with imagination. Visualize. Stay puffed. Donut be a marshmallow in the resistance. Donut sugarcoat things. Donut go soft. I am General Mills. This is a dry cereal outpost.

Fresh Laugh Tracks


This podcast is so important I recorded it on my phone.

My apologies to those I have yet to offend.

No apologies to those I have re-offended.

To those I have pre-arranged a future offense for, I await payment.

“Someone Else’s Memories” from the album “The Politics of Desire” by Revolution Void licensed under Creative Commons Attribution License 3.0.

Winner Winner! by Kevin MacLeod
Link: https://incompetech.filmmusic.io/song/4630-winner-winner-
License: https://filmmusic.io/standard-license

Fuzzball Parade by Kevin MacLeod
Link: https://incompetech.filmmusic.io/song/5044-fuzzball-parade
License: https://filmmusic.io/standard-license

Grateful acknowledgment thereof.

A notice from Mr Raffin regarding his availability at this time

Let’s face it if you’re here it means only one thing you were caught in a filter. And yes those filters are only there because we are surrounded by highway bandits. I know they don’t look like what you’re thinking of when you think about bandits. For one thing they don’t wear bandannas. Nobody transports money by train anymore. And bullion is just a soup. Like lentil vegetable. Or peanut brittle. Melted. And they don’t wear hats because hats went out of style my friend. Wide brim. Narrow brim. Stove top. Pork pie. Headband. Beanie. We’re in too deep.


Remember, I am available to entertain at gala balls, union rallies, and nudist resorts. My material, as always, is high class, proletariat, and without shame. You will laugh so hard you tinkle in your pants. If that is appropriate attire in venue.