chop skwee

Q: what’s the coolest thing that you can think of?
A: a Japanese baseball-player bird.
R: Correct.
B: What the-
N: Yes, this is the friendly banter that we hear all over the city these days. Laughing stock of the modern age, I’m told. But then again, I’m told a lot of things. The fact remains: when we run out of things to say, we say the most interesting things, and that’s when things get done. Take, for example, the movie about the clover collector falling into the wrong crowd and getting tattooed by a rake. Egad, it was bad for that guy, but when things got really sad and wearisome in this fellow’s life, he stated the most beautiful soliloquy: Ock! What I would sooner give that has the pleasing power to engage my body tot eh flames! Nonesuch is the berated bottlenecked notions of the oppressed. They fight in the dirt of sacred traditions only to find the table barren when they return home. And who is more oppressed than the human heart, led on by the deceits of the flesh and the empty promises of wealth. We would sooner blame luck, cruel luck than the result of our own sick decisions, and yet, these decisions are what steer us into the frothing foam of uncertain failure. Oh, why did they have to tattoo me with a rake? It really, really hurt me bad and I have a scars now.