Sore Throat

Follow these easy steps and you too can feel like I do!!

Take a farm-fresh cactus, dip it in your favorite hot-sauce, then let dry.

Place the sauced cactus in a remote amazonian jungle, allowing poisonous ants to become attracted to the sweetness of the sauce.

With your bullet ant covered cactus, add 1/2 cup silver nitrate to the exterior killing the ants but allowing their toxins to remain, adding a delectable layer of cauterizing goodness.

Tie this to the back of a bus servicing Mexico City's slum districts with a ten foot rope, collect after 24 hours of service.

Bake in your oven at 375 for fifteen minutes, then immediately shove it in your mouth.  Allow it to settle directly behind your tonsils for best flavor.

Enjoy!

Receipt

This 'poem' was hastily scribbled on the back of a lengthy receipt while driving from Helena to Missoula.

It is dated 5/17/08

Seat-backs,
flapjacks,
relax,
it's Cinemax.
Must focus,
plague of locust
hocus pocus,
smog will choke us
sharps will poke us,
politicians still joke us.

For now alright,
shits all tight,
no need to fight,
blind your sight,
ignore
at the door
all the poor
Horsemen four,
their unsettled score.

Trim your beard,
as you feared
it will get weird,
the end has neared.
Hit the dirt,
less you hurt
your favorite shirt,
your blood will squirt.

Take this sign,
not as mine.
Nothing's fine,
husk and rind,
of a world
all unfurled,
lost and twirled.

You now ask why?
With a sigh,
but can't reply,
want to cry,
time to die
in our filthy sty.

My grandpa,
at see-saw,
wrote the law
of fist and jaw.
Then we took,
his ancient book,
moved our rook,
dice were shook,
all were six,
down in Styx,
sins will mix,
take our licks,
too late to fix.
The broken game,
of words and fame,
beasts we tame
never the same.

So love em',
hate em',
ad infinitum.

Do your worst,
try your best,
Alea iacta est.

Electric City

Took a drive down to the Electric City,
Kenwood 2 meter mobile transceiver unit
at 146.420MHz and a .5w input SMC-30 mic check.
Non-ionizing radiation and beef jerky check,
well-studied and half-assed check.

CQ CQ CQ this is Blackwater,

do you copy? Over.

We met the hams,
we took the ham test,
we shook the ham hands,
we became ham-handed hams in hand.

Impedance and resistance, Ohm I God!

They radiated in from far and wide,
curiosity frequencied at the speed of light.
They said hello with their mouths,
said who is trying to join our club with their eyes.

They wanted us,
They wanted anybody,
They needed anybody.
They reveled in showing us their ARES station-
I owe them this - it was awesome.

We left the Electric City as licensed Technician Operators,
with a hundred dollar tab at the Sip n' Dip.

Mission accomplished,

Over and Out.

Thoughts on the Annelid population

Where do the worms go in the winter?

Do they dig extra deep to avoid frozen dirt, getting closer to Earth's molten core?

Do they tunnel south?

Do they all freeze to death as they lay winterized-eggs that will be the new worm herd of 2012?

Is the one that I captured and put in the soil of my ficus the only surviving worm in Montana?

Do they simply have a high tolerance for low temperatures and continue to thrive all winter long?

Do they enter a cryogenic stasis that allows them to resume worm activities in the spring?

Do they have an elaborate underground worm city where the homeless worms sit around tiny barrel fires warming their mucous exuding clitellum?