Nightcap 02/06/13

Always carry an ink pen, fine point. When at a restaurant, preferably in a booth, begin writing horrible messages on the complimentary packets of sugar and sugar substitutes offered for more sophisticated diners. Scribble things that will really hurt, really bring about serious question and doubt. “The chemicals in this powder are actually good for you; they will prolong the suffering.” “God has smiled upon you. That's the problem.” “Your leg will shake with or without this.” “Good ahead, embarrass everyone. Use the coupon.” “Nobody believes it was an accident.” “It wasn't designed with an escape hatch.” “No one is forcing you to feel this way. It's all your fault.” At the conclusion of the...

Nightcap 02/05/13

The prominent design motif in area homes remains hatred. This perspective finds its purest expression in the abundance of running outboard motors chained over picture windows and ceramic lawn ornament animals of divergent origin arranged so as to appear to be kissing in a passionate and lewd manner. Often near the sidewalk.

Nightcap 02/04/13

I'm told that tomorrow, all the automobiles will vanish. We wake up and they'll be gone. No foul play, no hassle, just gone. In the driveway will sit neat little piles of spare change from the ashtray and a little row of ice scrapers and snow brushes from under the seats.
The cars will not be coming back. There will be no investigation. Nothing will be said about this awful time going forward. Instead, everyone will get right to it: beating each other about the head and neck. Those beaten into submission will carry the victors around on their backs and formally give up on their dreams once and for all.

Morning Constitutional 02/04/13

Trouble is, I cannot find any reliable information about the science of miniature golf course design. I mean stuff about worm holes and particle weapons and greasy guys back at the club house eating pepperoni and cheese sticks out of the honor-system snack tray. If I hit this little red ball past the boy who’s fishing and it never stops accelerating – I mean, look, it’s possible – will it roll through the fence and into the next door Hooters’ patio lounge? All the life-sized, cement, purple panther statues there will ever be – all of them – were created seconds after the big bang. If I’m buying one – can I get a discount? Like if the nose is chipped? If I could just get 15 minutes and a place to sit down, I want to go through these...

Morning Constitutional 02/03/13

Where the hell are your robot arms, huh? You’re such a genius. Where are the robot arms?! You got nothing! C’mon man, use that super brain and all those credentials and enhance yourself. I tell you what, you can open that goddamn beer yourself. Figure out how to open that jar of nuts. Do it!
Shit.
You need a robot arm. You need at least one. And it needs to be powered by your heart. No battery shit. And train it. Keep it away from women. Make it learn how to lift rocks, that kind of shit.
COME ON, GENIUS! COME ON! This guy ain’t nothing.