Ennui

I have been beset by crushing ennui. It kind of popped up the other day.
I was walking outside the feebage and it was sitting in the bushes. I
saw a shadow in a glimmar and then it was on me. I thought I would come
to harm, but ennui seems content to dangle off my neck like a twisted
albatross of sorts.

Russ found me pacing the living room of the feeb farm. Technically, it
was his turn to take duke to the weightroom, but he let me go. That's
how I came to be on the exercycle, next to duke, watching a room full of
women wobble their asses at me (aerobics class). I think this is a kind
of hell. So many nice treats but I can touch. I can barely look. If a
particularly nice speciman wombles by, I'm beset by all sorts of nice
jewish guilt. Ts ass is so much better, isn't it? Wouldn't you rather be
looking at ts ass? Hasn't ts ass been there for you when you needed it?
Wouldn't ts ass be a pillow on a cold stormy night? I'm forced to hang
my head in shame at the altar of ts ass and remind myself that I am
fortunate enough to cuddle with it whenever its there.

Ts ass aside, I've been thinking some rather strange things, as par the
jon course. Who is susie? Why is she in the paw paw patch? What is a paw
paw patch? Does she a rottencrotch? When I was a wrestler, my coach used
to threaten us with immediate and painful dismemberment if we
lollygagged and spoke horrors of susie rottenrotch and mary shebangs or
something like that. We didn't know what to do with susie rottencrotch
anyway. All we were fit for was humping men in spandex. I'm now
convinced that susie in the paw paw patch is susie rottencrotch, and her
crotch is rotten because of those damn paw paws. They're a yeasty
ferment.

The bad tree grows bitter fruit, he said. Then I shall sow mine, I
replied.

I grow tired. Of people racing me while I ride. They are like so many
ants in need of a good squishing. The problem with squishing ants is
that there's no fundamental challenge. An ant is squished like our
president smirks. Still, the teenagers and men with their shiny rims and
low slung seats glare pompously, as if their tens of thousands of dollar
investments could not be easily shugged off. All I need is to roll the
throttle and they're dots in my mirror. Invariably, they catch up. I
don't like hurting my engine in break in.

D out

~ For we walk by faith, not by sight ~

I know we're cool

For some reason, gwen stefani's song has been stuck in my head for the
majority of the evening. The song really isn't that good. Its mostly her
droning on and on about how she's happy for her ex. The thing about the
song is that her voice inflections are incredibly melodic. They go up
and slide into you like a sharp knife, and then they stick in your
ribcage while she twists. Its that kind of pain. Disney is probably
going to co-opt that song for a new sort of torturous ride. Gitmo blasts
it. Cheney uses it for his theme song.

I mean, think about it.

(The curtain opens up to a political press conference. Stage left is
filled with various media people and camera. They all chitter eagerly.
Stage right has secret service men milling about. They look all secret
and stuff. In the center of stage right is a podium. It is draped in a
red and white flag. The blue appears to be lacking. Cheney strolls in
from stage right. He is dressed in a boxers robe. Gwen stefani's I know
we're cool blares. The media frenzies. The secret service has to beat a
few back.)

Media: cheney! Cheney!
Cheney: yo...media!
media person 1: cheney! What do you think of the delay situation?
Cheney: after all we've been through, I know we're cool
Media person 2: what does this say about the credibility of the
republican party?
Cheney: we have changed, but we're still the same. After all we've been
through, I know we're cool.
Media person 3: where do you see the party going in the future?
Cheney: memories seem like so long ago. Time always kills the pain.

(Lights fade. Curtain falls. Fin)

Who knew that gwen stefani could be used to spin?
~ For we walk by faith, not by sight ~