pacifier and twirly lights…

Boogie Taps In Bangatovia

Can you tolerate the boogie taps in Bangatovia?

I can understand your need for disinformation, as you are a tendentious jerk, and your tongue lags like a bloodhound’s when you see a pomegranate. But is there really a need to go parading about when you are sick with a virulence that knows no bounds?

Must you be a whirling dervish of imbecility at every turn? Does nothing, absolutely nothing, make you stop for one moment to reflect?

I haven’t seen anything quite like you before — you are an automaton of illness, bad conception and bad vibes. What you need is a rave (circa, 1993) and lots of X. Go ahead, we’ll provide the pacifier and twirly lights.

Please, please, take a seat, and just for a moment consider what you do. Take a raved-out and zonked-out night off. Take a brief time out for rhinoceros trivia, if you prefer. Take a dump and clean out your system — a deep cleanse colonic — and maybe a modicum of intelligence will seep its way up to your brain stem.

Please stop. Please leave us alone for a day or two.

And now we return to your regularly scheduled broadcast…

This is Fall, at 10:18 am, on 10/05/20. Jamaica Plain, MA. (5/31)

“Everything faded into mist. The past was erased, the erasure was forgotten, the lie became truth.”

— George Orwell / 1984

About istsfor manity

i'm a truncated word-person looking for an assemblage of extracted teeth in a tent full of mosquitoes (and currently writing a novel without writing a novel word) and pulling nothing but the difficult out of the top hat while the bunny munches grass in the hallway. you might say: i’m thee asynchronous voice over in search of a film....
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