"...Plague years"

To market. Shelves near empty. No bread no soup no eggs few basics. Supply Chain disruptions. Whole world down with Omicron. I sure as shit am. Swell. Chocolate and Turnips. These we got. Bleeping row on row. 

Turnips. What da fuck was gawd thinking?! Chocolate. A wonder of wonders. The Former I'd rather die than eat. The Latter'd put me in Diabetic shock. Lose-lose. It just ain't fair. I got crackers with peanut butter and went home.

 

 

"...Brooklyn College"

 

 

"...innocence"

The topic of porn came up on a comrade's page. Some thought that the display of women in straight porn was harmful, and destructive. Queer porn is just as bad. Anyway, that kick started a memory of just this problem.

Porn as it was and is demeans those in it.

So we thought my artist comrades of back in the day. Is there a way to do enjoyable erotica that doesn't hurt people? I mean the template we had then as now comes from when it was mostly illegal. So the Mob produced it all.

In other words, generations were given as a model the Mafia's idea of sex.

Which is akin to autopsy pictures. So I proposed what in my earlier boyish innocence I believed porn to be. As a lad of 11 or 12 I'd see this stuff on newsstands. I thought the pictures were taken by the people in it. The women themselves took the pictures, and the articles interspersed were by them talking about why they did it, and how they had such a nice time with their friends doing it.

An interesting idea we thought.

However, when we did mock-ups and proposed this to some of the art rags. They thought we were crazy. Basically, a big "fuck no" to the idea. Too bad it would have worked. Anyway, by this time it was the mid-1970's. I started my own small press. I published Queer prose poetry weird art, and stuff. Which was great fun.

"...Dip stick"

On da what da fuck am I still doing alive front.

I can report that I have no idea. I just woke up still breathing.

That's it. However, walking is rougher than usual. My sight is crappier than ever in my fucking life. Fucking agonizing sudden cramps are fun. Did I mention my heart is getting my attention? The sucker slows down, and misses beats. I mentioned that at hospital, they said I'm fine.

Which is their way of saying... "Look gramps that shit is the least of your problems."

Otherwise, I'm swell! There I complained, and I'm glad.

  "...An Emotional Outburst"

We're living in a country with 380 millions of folks that have gone barking at da moon nuts. A willful hatful superstitious deluded deranged the earth is flat alternative facts cancel culture history don't exist angry selfish greedy vengeful mob crawling across g-d's microscope! ... Enough!!!

My reaction is emotional terrified hysteria. 

A 21st century Kristallnacht nightmare of Nazi Kluxer Brownshirts lynching everybody in sight. This with most looking the other way the way they did before. Would they really do that here...maybe. Certainly 30% totally would since they be doing the hanging.

Having Uncle Joe Biden and Ms. Harris as the only persons between me, and all that ain't reassuring. This calls for folks like Dr. Strange the Fantastic Fucking Four, and the Joker. That bunch would give us at least some kind of fighting chance.

This country is in a hell of a bleeping evil fix.

I quit from now on I'm an Inuit. ...if they'll have me. Com'on I tell funny stories and can cook! Lemme in!

The rest of the maniacs can go ahead and burn down the United Fucking States. Knock ya selves out. Just leave me Bob da Bunny, and the wild deer the bleep alone.

The only hopeful thing in this whole toxic dumpster fire is the "I Quit!" culture. Folk refusing to crawl back to heartless jobs that never pay enough to live. 

If we luck out something may come of this as million refuse exploitation. Might cut down on the mass insanity. 

The Midnight Moon.

 

The last light of the day.