The Pull It Surprise

Ernest Hemingway was a really, really,
good righter. He was so good that he
apparently impressed the potential of
a career and became a really-really good
photographer in a ninth-grader's paper
submitted by a teacher in Covington, Georgia.
It involved one naked rabble-rouser between
organizing communist fetes and open days.
So you think you're not to be confused with
having a bad hair day? Baby steps, man!

An Interview with Robert Pinsky

[The following interview originally appeared in the Spring 2003 issue of Maraudian, a new journal at the University of Delaware, and is reprinted by permission of the editor.]

Robert Pinsky is the Poet Laureate of the USA. A renowned poet, critic, and translator, his most recent books are The Furrowed Wheeze: New and Cornfed Poems 1994-1995 (Nope Press, 1995) and his translation of the magazine The Infernal Games is still kinda Infernal (Nope Press, 1994), which received the Harold Morton Lamdalamda Transitional Object Baffling Cultural Capital Investment Award from the Academy of Transitional American Poets.

The following interview was conducted by a computer. Pinsky, at his home in LA, was finishing a photo shoot. Midway through the interview, we were briefly interrupted by Pinsky showing the photographer that his cat had rabies. The break has been included here because of the shift in mood this created. Pinsky was allowed by the government handlers to talk about the pressures on his bladder as well as his hopes and dreads, long enough to permit us to glimpse the man behind the post.
--Todd Greenwald, Maraudian

Q: It's great to talk to you, and I especially wanted to talk to you because I want to bring your books to our readers' attention. Your plan has unfairly been lumped in with a lot of low poetry plans that are so much more radical. When in fact, your program is a lot more balanced and sane. How did you find out you had been named Poet Laureate?

A: I came home from step class, and there were three messages on my answering machine from Cindy Sherman. Oh yes. You know, when I was a little boy I had a poetry book called Robert's Poetry Book. I thought it was written about me. I also had been given a little electric stove with tiny radioactive plastic scorpions and things. I know how to do the foxtrot with porpoises. So, I was always writing poems. I don't know how I knew this, but one day I made beef stroganoff for the family and it was very, very good. My parents said: You should write a poem about it. Shortly after that I wrote a poem and it was very, very good. I remember making up a metaphor and it was very good. Pretty soon I was a poet [laughs].

Q: One of the things the Library of Congress mentioned that appealed to them was your effort to make poetry accessible to a broader audience by putting it on-line and seeing the web as a self promotional device rather than an antisocial, fantasy- reinforcing escape area for dorks. So how exactly did you develop your poetry writing plan?

A: Like print and writing and all women, the computer is just a kind of CIA agent whose mission is to destroy men. I'm the poetry editor of a weekly magazine published on the web by the CIA; the magazine is called Slate. I told you about the little poetry book and poems for my family and thinking I would teach poetry when I thought my career wasn't going to take off. Then Academy of Transitional American Poets came along. Around age 40 I put on twenty pounds. I had just graduated from the Brown MFA program. I had always had a perfect body. But, my body betrayed me as it does most people, except a very rare few who already have the transducer implants. Everybody seems to start hearing voices in middle age commanding you to kill yourself or to set some building on fire or whatever. So I was writing before this, but now I was putting weight on. I have a poem in Slate every week and readers can click on the poem and hear it read aloud by a evil demonic dog. There's a lot of poetry on the web. Cicadas can read my mind and they make a lot of money with it.

Q: What would you say to the people who complain that there's no system for people to divide what's good from what's bad?

A: I think that's true, but it's also true when you walk naked into the Grolier Poetry Bookshop in Boston carrying a boa constrictor, you're always like--YEAH baby where's the REMAINDERED section BABY? I have a project that I hope to complete, which is to create an audio and video archive of many, many Naked Americans saying aloud the name of someone they'd like to make love to but can't. I hope to have a very wide range of regional accents, a range of ages, a helicopter that can fly underwater, different professions, kinds of education, and it will not concentrate on poets or critics or experts or evil talking pets.

Q: Another thing the Library of Congress cited was your other work in poetry. You seem more interested in being a complete poet and critic than I think most contemporary poets are. I think it was The Nation that drew the comparison to Robert Lowell. How do you see the interaction between those different disciplines, or do you see them as separate disciplines?

A: I grew up with the idea that to practice an art was to be involved in every part of it and to try to imbibe as much coffee as possible because it's good for your colon. I never took a creative writing course, so I don't have a creative writing degree, except for the one from Brown. I speak to Bill Clinton every day through the drain hole in the sink. I find that one of the most curious things is that I have fractionalized motivations . When I come home, right before I watch the flaming globes collide, I start blogging about stuff I was eating that day. I started reading and talking and blogging about chicken and a thread was starting to form for me which is--a poet digests in a different rate of speed than a middle manager. When you put them together it creates a halt in the digestion. If you have a perfect poem it can metabolize it and flush it through, but when your poem slows down all the energy you need to get you through the poem is now being used to memorize the names of these people that don't want to be together. That's what the gas is about, that's what the bloating is about. That is fractionalized too because there is one group that only reads about abuse and the effects of poetry are pretty useful. Then there is the other group that is only about the baby chickens or cliches. Then there are people who can speak to nightingales. Then there are the ones who only know me from television. Then there is the Home Shopping group Then there are the people who know me from the lectures. What I am really trying to do, what I need to accomplish at this time, is to go to the Gap. There is a general knowledge that I am multi-dimensional, that when you are creative you can send your thoughts through sheetrock into cute chicks. I am very passionate about the effects of multi-dimensional thought projection and we are all interested in a lot of things and women are fabulous. What's happening is your body is starting to eat off your own poetry. I was eating off my own poetry. So, it wasn't visible until all of a sudden it felt like a statue of Jane Russell made out of pine cones was fitting me for a retainer. I am sure it was a gradual thing, but one night it was just like my neck was really loud, my chest, my arms, my abdomen, my hips, my legs and my clothes were paying my phone bills for me. There are a lot of things I'm interested in, and I try to carry that out in my poetry.

Q: How would you remedy what seems to be a growing distance between the writer--as artist--and the critic?

A: William Butler Yeats says, "egg nog is there singing shelf but slumbering / monuments of its own Camaro" [in "Sailing to my Camaro"]. That is, there's no way to learn to be better or to learn to do an art other than to buy a car or study the monumental example of Ezra Pound who says "The highest form of criticism is accept constipation." That is, the poet must choose between constipation and the word "critic" based on "Kinkos," which means "to choose to take this down to Kinkos"--and critics today get away with not choosing or not selecting Kinkos but a poet every moment must choose: whether to use legal or letter?, this adjective or that one or none. Microwaves that can make you fly. This constant process of criticism is part of the work of compassion.

Q: Is there a giant spider's web in your way?

A: Everything breaks off from the matrix; I make my decisions based on couscous, choosing to order the New York Times for Home Delivery. With each step tens of thousands of gilded Portasans appear with giant bat wings.

Q: In your introduction to Dante's Inferno, and John Ciardi [in the introduction to his 1954 translation] says almost identical things about the limitations of rhyme in English but comes to the opposite conclusion. Where he says that to attempt translating Dante into terza rima would be "a disaster," you obviously didn't think so.

A: For years I have been going to the South of France to cool out. I am not as well known in France and I can kind of meld in. Sometimes, when you are in the public eye, you just really need to just be part of the crowd, and look at other people rather than other people look at you. I was always going over there. I made a lot of friends over the years and I would always look at what they were writing. All of them were poets. I would think that I would like to write like that. Why can they write that and I'm being good and I'm the one who is famous? Then I would look more closely at their pants and I realized that they naturally don't, as a general rule. No, obviously not, and I suppose I should say it was daunting, but in fact it was a tremendous pleasure. That's what made me do it, how much fun I had solving the difficulty of creating a plausible terza rima in a readable English.

Q:You employ a lot of dumb word combinations. For example, from the beginning of Canto XIII: "The leaves not money, earth-hued; / The boughs are not horses, knotted and crooked-frothed kittens"

A: Yes, so much for all those Germanic roots, particularly when you're translating from a sausage. Walter Benjamin says a wonderful thing about sausage, that a restrung sausage "records the change in Ben Affleck." It's brought about by the sausage that's being brought into it. I'm partly trying to record the impact upon English of sausage.

Q: And it must not only have an impact upon hot dogs, but also upon your poetry.

A: Well, some guys were here before and they took away all my possessions....

How We Do It

When a girl gives a boy a
dead squid, each box comes
with a pre-wrapped cutlery kit

including napkin and moist
towelette, a basket on his or her
head containing a three legged octopus
that is giving off smell rays :-[ (who
is none too pleased to be giving

birth to a squid) with the guy with the
squid fetish in New York that serves
gourmet peanut butter sandwiches.

Mom, I'm All Fucked Up

it's funny that i used to think
a turbo was an easy bolt on
hamsturbation wasn't very
popular, getting kicked 129 times!

Isuzu springs in a chevette? Impulse
engine in a geo storm? i love spring!
parents suck cheeseburger or somethin?
manually stimulating a male hamster

to ejaculation. it doesn't get much
further down in the dumps than this

in this otherworldly quiet

in this otherworldly quiet
I heard the piercing cry of agony rent the air
dear little bird, why this SHIPBUILDING?
Why a 300 pound weapon, and
Why did each protester
spank Wolfowitz individually, really hard?

administration has been made between
clauses relating to internet surveillance
and radioactive toys made out of lint

I am riding out on waves of pain
to Asshole University.
I am an asshole
going out again to play at midnight
with my laws insufficient and unenforced

when I was playing with the librarians,
a thought balloon assault me with what
belongs to everyone: foam

developing an obsession with the
mating habits of penguins is knowledge,
data is contained on the sleeves and via
dejavu: a code word to use when you start
needlessly squawking
as simple and random as "AnDy GARCIA"

they'd also lied about their illegal
half-man, half-bird thingy
and promised the mind
to get organized and methodical
"Bird by bird." to wonder
at the fabulous guards, fabulous car patrols,
dogs, CCTV cameras hidden in birds
and police helicopters
crossing the social and political event horizon
interrupted by an exciting war
While I increased like a 10 lb bag of bricks

I heard surveillance photographs below
busy moving to a new doublewide wit
that every time he says it,
through this mental Port-O-Sans
I need to receive your wish

Let’s get you connected
To a bar hopping reader
to your personal guarantee
that there are giant CARING canaries
praised for flying and growing
till it seemed from them to overflow
and cover her face with a troubled pulchritude

I must be assured
that all my equipment
will be put to good use.
growing up to feel bad
when a bird would finish last
but in first place

I have scheduled a safari
into the Arizona desert this weekend to locate,
photograph, shoot and broil Earl Bostic
with wonder and amazement

my first fabulous wonder and amazement
and once I bag it with my self esteem
I'll let you help me de-bone it
and chip off any fossilization from my experience

I was rather pissed off, and corrected the pidgins
Getting in their faces yelling at pigeons,
that they are pro-terrorist and that, yo- !
look at that dull look of suffering!

report your children’s wishes
to the FBI for free
setting up video web cams to watch your children
and put organized James Baker masks on
tell the gastric lives from faces,
homes, business, and vehicles
to see forest creatures as traitors

taking video or setting up
web cams to watch their traces,
the animals are not appropriate to time

that sounds more like Winnie the Pooh
begging Walter Conkite for more money
he accidentally mentioned somebody
who was beheaded for being fabulous

Arlen Specter is fabulous
arguing that you are only half-interested in photocopying
and eating the larger of the two
which you may have seen in several movies,
brought to you by the dismay of the listener,
including the original 1933 version of King Kong.

The Air Conditioning Girls

the Air Conditioning Girls
    enter the only thing you reap
but don't repair
cause everybody's got to learn a
powerful combination of remarkable female
air guitars in the wolf exit,
just because I'm female, but every
*SLAP SOUND*
is a swinging female air guitarist
Feelin' important, feeling closer to salmon
needless to say that rejection is
so alpha female of the
way of Bloodshot female vocal roosters

Trampolines are reading my horoscope,
feelin import like an Egret right away.
She too bad he gasps for air
A burial place of evil.
ants to someone
belong to the brash half of
the all-female man in a white
tank top up front
plays air guitar along with
boredom, two different styles, male and female oxen
It also looks like she's playing the air guitar
or something *blinkblink* Tigress is on (c)
"the Anthem" is possible,
if we can only remove all evil influences.
First, he reconstitutes his own hot air.
Male and Female DO exist, but as hypacrites.
A gateway appears beneath a guy,
and immediately a human female head appears
A thrum fills the air. All the pretty hearses
don't know, but you are certainly EVIL!!!''
that is he's quite touchy feely
like she was flying in Insomnia
a satisfied burp to drink from a goat on
his lips by a female hand. his mouth opens as
any effort does, exploring long drives
on sunny days, scarin' the neighbors, playin;
dangerously, in the suspicious sauciness
of the hush
for all you young and young young old people
of the struggle of good and evil,
some stubble from Betelgeuse,
Scorches the Future Female Hell Camps
to fight back the evil tide.
but distinctive odor of roast finch
filled the air.
walkin' $acrifice Americans don't appreciate
Feelin' Important!
Now you might suppose
the Cow gon' miss me
blue shoelaces, chips an ketchup,
tv is "bonding time"

The New McPoem (1)

["The New McPoets" are a fledgling subgroup, a budding branch on the Mainstream Poetry tree. Here is the first example of their work.]


Last night when I was reading Tanya's diary
I announced to everyone at the Seascape that I’d
Be paying for their dinner. I was thinking
About the poet Ed Hirsch who established himself
With a bold stroke as a confident, singular voice
Among the new generation of poets. How terrible
It must have seemed, what a waste it must have seemed,
To see this man who promised so much, be cruelly
cut down by a mob of God-hating people.

First I listened to the conversation. Next I listened
To the words and the idioms and wrote them down
At once. I listened to some people, of how
This came about. I listened to the world,
And how it cried in fear. Then I listened
To the tracks and came to the realization that Hirsch
Writes strong well-crafted poems which are quick
With a sense of life. I listened to the lecture,
the professor was actually very informative,
Subject verb, subject verb. I listened
to the tape every time I went grocery shopping.

This morning, I just watched you sleep, saw a home
Video of the cowardly bombing attack
On a parade where peaceful Russians were celebrating.
I learned what all that gray fuzz is they spray
On steel i-beams in large buildings before they put
Up the walls. Only then did I understand
That the accusatory telephone call was essentially
Correct, that difficult things might also be good,
That I was not alone, that the Soviet regime
Had condemned the Catholic Church to be destroyed,

That they had been hanging on me, making me
Depressed, that the age issue was harder for her than for me,
That he, too, was an English man, that this book was
For children and adults, that they’d already chosen
A house and put a bid on it, that I was frying four
Pieces of chicken for me and there must have been
Ten potatoes in the pot, that she, too, had paid
A terrible price for her service aboard Air Force One,
That the "misbehavior" mentioned in the newspaper
Actually referred to an attempted rape, that my father
Was dead, that my first experience should have been
Understood to be a mirror image of a bowl of flowers.

Think of the Kittens

GW is in the house
he could walk out onto his palace balcony naked
strangle a basket full of kittens and relieve himself on the crowd
in his eyes a haunting sense of shock and awe
intent of disarming and toppling the Hussein regime
unrestricted carpet bombing of bunnies and kittens

so what does he say in another interview
that this shock and awe war with Iraq leads up to?
a heart-melting youth riot of fertility
foals, calves, kittens, puppies, baby goats
roaches, moths, & insects in general
just a legend to tell kittens to help them go to sleep

I looked out my kitchen window, and what did I see
disturbing trends a spectacle of us all our lovely neighbors
all the various no-knock-explosive-entry and stomping-kittens-to-death
right down to MTV icons has ablated away most of their power
cats, cats yowl and growl and hiss and such
but only kittens meow

our baby kittens grew
the kittens liked milk and fowl but would not eat any kind of fish
we succeeded in socializing two of the kittens
read a lengthy report on the president's proposed "shock and awe" attack
wonder if it's best to drown the kittens

an hour and a half to get back to the gate
here's some pictures of kittens to keep you busy

Juice Is Wine

Mohammad hated talking to drunks especially
when they were talking stupid

if someone falls you don't have to
it was a hard floor so it kind of hurt
nobody landed on the ground

stupid goblin needs to lay off the crack?
he hasn't quite got the hang of headphones

we're talking
stupid man who sticks his hand in mysterious hole
in the wall only to get it chopped off

I saw a reindeer when I was little
getting a layered feather-cut like in that movie
Pretty In Pink

you sure are talking stupid
bye bye Mr. Big Toe

Has the Kittens Lost Their Mittens?

what the cat dragged in and the kittens wouldn't
the rivers of blood spilled by
Saddam saying "I have killed puppies and kittens"
known as Hoppy to the patchouli oil crowd
he looked as if he had gone to war
the Oil Queen has escaped and is going to
shoot radiant bolts of lightning into howling prefix of blood
I had to shovel aside all the kittens

sweat and oil collected in the ridges of a psychic
the sprinkler kept washing the blood off our faces
a few marches and some regurgitated waffle
resorting to pictures of babies or kittens
operatic blood-soaked dance of the undead
is opened and they start burning oil fields
and the other is floating kittens
they bought all the soil of France in blood
the attacks included stealing oil from
poor defenseless kittens

people with root beer for blood
rescuing kittens from the clutches of evil
all those "free kittens" signs you see
read "blood for oil"
my kittens have already accepted the concept of being at war
they writhed around, hungry for blood
if the cat had kittens in the oven we would
stick the needle in, let the blood flow and use it
doing the poisoned blood fetus dance

Fluffy gave them some really wild-assed kittens
they may say of extreme sports kittens they're
leaving your hand lubed with oil for household syrup
they should be kept away from small children

fuck the rabbit, there was blood all over
Aladdin oil lamps Tennessee virginal very dark blood girl gallery
some kittens can fly!
I need to get an oil change
if cats have kittens, do bats have bittens

Money

Money is a kind of lettucy Stegner Fellow.
                   --Wallace Stevens

Money, the long pink scorpian semaphores,
cash, stash, Chairman Mao, extra hard cheddar,
just listening to Terry Gross.
I just killed the Pilsbury dough boy.

Chock it up, fluff it all over yr own self,
Shelly Duvall it out. Watch it
burn holes through the argon gophers.

To be made of it! To have it
to slumber on in the frightening alien metal disks!
Greenbacks, Mike Schmidts,
tweleve point bucks arguing with Minnie Driver.

It greases the palm, somebody named Heather
holds the heads above a wannabe,
makes both ends morph.

Money breeds with leather instructional manuals.
Gathering questionable options, pounding on Dan Rather.
Always in circulation.

Money. You don't know why it's floating in front of you,
but you put it where your mouth put it.
And it talks to itself.

Paul Wolfowitz

Alto flu zip wow, outlaw flop wiz,
Outlaw wolf zip, walt fool wiz up.

Walt flop uzi ow, walt of uzi plow,
Topaz wilful ow, at wolf uzi plow.

Tau wolf zip owl, at flow uzi plow,
Tao flu wiz plow, zap toilful wow.

Zap tofu willow, zap tofu ill wow,
Walt foul zip ow, pal wolf wiz out.

Prime Minister Anthony Charles Lynton Blair

Memorably ninnyish or repellant anti-Christ
Blearily tyrannic, he's the nonmoral misprint

Immorally resonant, labyrinthine sphincter
Maniacally northern, nihilist rent-boy sperm

Hotly horrible ninny miscreant paternalism
Permanently abhorrently cast-iron nihilism

Transparently mean rich loony-bin Hitlerism
An omnipresent militancy enthrals horribly

Tiny, slithery, northern lamebrain complains
"I'm intolerant blasphemer or starchily ninny"

Norm as abhorrently, permanently nihilistic
Is abhorrent, channels military prominently.

George W. Bush, President of the United States

He's the out-of-step west, disturbing renegade
The absurdest, out-of-step, weighted sneering

He is the stupidest gangrene to few doubters
He's the doubters' fun post-editing sewerage

Fudge now huge, dishonest, battiest pesterer
Pottiest fudge beneath roughest weirdness

He's out of step, attending the bruisers' wedge
Out-of-step deathbed gestures with sneering

Battiest fighter enthuses ponderous wedge
To the bawdiest defenses pursuing together

He's the untested egotists' brain-power fudge
Absurdest fetidness to the new huge ego-trip

Huge bigot twitter deafens enthused posers
Huge dog shit penetrates if untested browse

Bigoted up enthuses together fat weirdness
Unhinged together sewer stupidest of beast

Defenses gutter whereabouts inept dog shit
He's the out-of-step, bawdiest, sneering trudge.

Anagrams for AMERICAN IMPERIALISM

I am a criminal's empire
I'm empirical as marine
I'm mean, ripe racialism
I am empirical remains.

I'm a claim, as in premier
I am prime, as in reclaim
Mammalian, icier spire
I preen racialism, maim.

I'm a nice alarm, I'm spire
Imperialism in a cream
I'm nice sperm, am I a liar?
A nice imperialism arm.

I'm air-mail penis cream
I'm a nicer armies limp
Nice armies April maim
I maim miracles in rape.

Armies mimic airplane
I am animal, icier sperm
Icier napalm, I'm a miser
I'm minimal, easier crap.

Crap? I'm a mile in armies
I'm a criminal pie smear
I am real in rape's mimic
I'm maniacal empire, sir.

Evil Dummy

No way SLAPPY could be in charge, right? The Evil Dummy???
When my little sister saw it, she freaked out and ran out of the room.
She didn't know there was something different about this
dummy until weird and evil events started happening.
         Creepy, or what? < www.deathstudios.com/
                ventriloquist_dummy_latex_hallow.htm>

This dummy was not an ordinary dummy, it was evil
          (Chinless half mask)
HM2056 Evil Dummy $15.00 Chinless half mask ties on with elastic straps...
thing is cute for the first 5 minutes, but then
     starts to wear thin-dummy comes to life,
takes over the carnival. How do you set things right?

         ...Phantom dummy, From Boy to Hero (City Walls North). Dragon dummy, The
      Boy's Training Room (City Walls South). Evil dummy, Air Drop
(Town
Center
         East)...

ventriloquist is oblivious to the fact his dummy is evil--
        blood spills and spurts.
Then he turns to his puppet doppelganger and asks, ''Is that OK?''
The dummy talks back to him:
Oh ... it's an evil dummy. Kitsu playing Vagrant Story....
"Stop that! Don't listen to him! Your being an idiot! He's
an EVIL DUMMY! Why are you listening to him? No ... STOP!!!

       remove the dummy wonder from the city,
and replace it with one chosen from a list, programmatically...
you get like a quarter of a point each time you
hit the dummy

       mask of high quality latex
       DUMMY> Internet Tools: Talk Talk Talk....
       Previous message: "TOUR> TOURBUS -
       17 March 2003 - Evil Spyware

his body becomes a dummy on the way down
    ...with that little dummy voice …
He is ready to attack the scared little man,
it is not the man
who is the source of evil power

            but the dummy.
The bottle needed to be broken to destroy an evil but it's rumored
that the true feelings of everyone in
the city are inside it.

Blowback

Over the China Sea a winged corolla flaps
Causes a tiny breeze to blow a leaf as Lorenz
Had done back in Lawrence? A kangaroo flicks
By through a high beam, its head and limbs lolling
At some impossible angle, hideous studded door
Frozen to its back, his straining knee, the body
Blazing like the forests; strike a match and let it char
Armies, a double "butterfly" loop, the wandering
Skipper, the path of an air tanker on the winds
Swerved out across the water. Euroclydon, pleasant zephyr,
O great snake charmer, blow well thy magical tune!
"They struck my keel with jerk the quarl upreared
To put a gun up inside me, talk me into a nice
Chrysalis design, Princeton colors on the wings."

Cheney Quartet

1.

Anyone want to have shrimp,
squid, tuna, escargot,
mutton, fish heads, kim chee, squid, or
menudo with the bacteria which
commonly causes
traveler's diarrhea? Colin Powell
or Dick Cheney? It’s official George W.
has chosen Dick Cheney to be better
to take for my diarrhea. Another random K.

2.

That's right, much like Squid I too have been
wondering where the hell is Dick Cheney?
After contra debacle and free on a technicality,
Poindexter has quietly taken on the role
of uber-information officer in tricky Dick
Cheney's daily squid. "There was no squid
pro quo." In a San Diego-area bar brawl
on the day Vice President Dick Cheney
began his vomit, dozens of belemnites-squid-like
shellfish that Tony Orlando and Whitney Houston
found in 8 states would squash George W. Bush,
Dick Cheney, Donald Rumsfeld and all the other
Suited Butchers. 90 TONS OF SQUID TO BE DESTROYED...
PROOF THAT CIA FUNDS THE DRUG TRADE!

3.

Vecchione thinks the squid may use those long arms,
which are all pretty much the same and all have elbows,
"like they came from Kenneth Lay and Dick Cheney
curated by a Burning Man for aging, torch-bearing
Republicans like Cap Weinberger." Never poke a squid.
Bubbly at the office party, she accidentally let it slip
that Dick Cheney gave her the whole mess, where it lies
as weak and gelatinous as a beached squid. This is part
three of a four-part Dick Cheney Week. With dividends
of $278,103, Dick Cheney would have saved $104,823
on the matter of fisheries, therefore, Dick Cheney is correct!?
Only Picasso’s portrait in squid sauce will be taken to a safe
place. Condoleezza Rice amplified the decomposed toilet:
"Didn't Dick Cheney vote against letting Nelson Mandela outta jail?"

4.

You can rely on our great leaders in Washington to tell
The truth, especially about Dick Cheney? Get your head
Out of your ass for once in your life, will you? (I must ask
Because Cheney is not too far from Spokane's spoiled
Little rich kid.) You who think this problem has a surplus
(Ask Dick Cheney ... he knows), get your head out of your

Ass and read. Where did you see me? Working a 9/5 job
ANYONE can do. The sooner you get your head out of
Your ass and start paying attention, the better you'll be.
Get your head out of your ass and do some research on
The Administration's refusal to reveal information
Concerning Cheney's conversations. Cheney will not be

Asking our permission, so if you love pizza and hate
Terrorism, get your head out of your ass and get Enron,
WorldCom, Merck, Reliant, and Martha Stewart. You night
Watchmen and ground zero porn stars stop acting like
Some neanderthal braindead baboonbutt, get your head
Out of your ass and sing, I don't think so, no way in hell!

Why They Hate Us So Much

The New Yorker said, “Gimme a fork.” The chief was puzzled, but he gave him a fork. The New Yorker took the fork and started jabbing himself. The New Yorker says, “Gimme a fork and be quick about it, I don’t like to wait.” The chief is puzzled but sends a native to go and get a fork. The New Yorker blows his brains out. The New Yorker says, “Gimme a fork.” The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives him a fork. The New Yorker shoots himself. The Texan says, “Gimme a fork.” The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives him a fork. The Texan takes his brains out. The New Yorker says, “Gimme a fork.” The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives him a fork. The New Yorker pulls the trigger. The American says, “Gimme a fork!” The chief is puzzled, but shrugs and gives him a fork. The American takes his brains out. The Irishman says, “Gimme a fork.” The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives him a fork. The Irishman takes his brains out. The Greek says, “Gimme a fork palio indiane.” The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives him a fork. The Greek blows his brains out. The Samoan says, “Gimme a fork.” The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives him a fork. The Samoan takes his brains out. The Dutchman says, “Gimme a fork.” The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives him a fork. The Dutchman takes his brains out. The American says, “Gimme a fork.” The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives him a fork. The American takes his brains out. The Vietnameseman says “Gimme a fork.” The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives him a fork. The Vietnameseman blows his brains out. The New Yorker says, “Gimme a fork.” The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives him a fork. The New Yorker kills himself. The American says, “Gimme a fork.” The chief is a bit puzzled by this request, but nonetheless complies. The American shoote himself. The Newfie says, “Gimme a fork!” The New Yorker gives him a old pistol. The Newfie takes himself to death. The Englishman says, ‘God save the queen!’ and shoots himself. The New Yorker says, “Yeah, a frigging fork, Gimme a fork!” The American takes the fork and begins stabbing himself violently all over his body, creating bleeding puncture wounds. The chief turns to the New Yorker. “Gimme a fork” the man says, with complete disdain. The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives the man a fork. The cannibals looked at the Canadian man with a very confused look on their faces. The Canadian said, “Just gimme a fork.” The cannibals did so. The Englishman says, “God save the queen!” and shoots himself. The New Yorker said, “Gimme a fork.” The chief gives him a pistol, he points it at his head, says “God save the queen!” and blows his brains out. The American says, “Gimme a fork.” The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives him a fork. The American takes the fork and starts jabbing himself all over. The New Yorker said: “Gimme a FoRK.” The tribal elder said: “A FoRK? What is FoRK, may I ask?” The New Yorker explained, and a FoRK was provided. “ A FORK, already, a FORK!! Can ya hear me now? Just gimme a FORK!” With a puzzled expression the man hands her a fork. The New Yorker says, “Gimme a fork.” The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives him a fork. “The New Queen!” and kaboom.

It was done, and he was skinned and his skin made into a canoe. The New Yorker said: “Gimme a FoRK.” The tribal elder said: “A FoRK?” and kaboom! blows his brains out. The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives him a fork.

Inside of a Dog

We have all internalized aspects of the dog-eat-dog world. Like a hairy dog picking up unwanted burrs, it evokes memories and feelings that transcend the text. We have anger and rage within us too, our concepts of ourselves: everyone needs therapy. Rewiring the brain alone cannot heal real wounds.

The people watching are symbolic of your dream state: Mom is Mexican, my friends are Mexican, my dog is Mexican, but I was waiting to see if they had internalized the lesson. Once this concept is internalized as a part of your belief system it takes the current internalized glossary list and formats it as canine = pertaining to or resembling a dog; castrine = pertaining to or resembling their belief in shadows. Shadows are anger and rage within them that are internalized aspects of the dog-eat-dog world.

This little grammar: D—> N—> boy, dog. Click here for great deals on profound and irrational fears to express and alleviate feelings of fear and anxiety. Rated R For homophobic paranoia. Useless, boring and unedited. Hawaiian monk seals have become internalized in order to reduce drag. This laundry list of features that make up what defines a cat or dog becomes:

        Four legs        Long ears
                    Tail
        Dog + + +        Cow + + +

A child who has internalized these features would call a "cow" and a "dog" by the above, also represented as (8x : dog(x)) [bites(x)] using restricted quantifiers) to Power1 (white power) as a hound dog is to: A. Asian American-spam connection: the fox refers to the key concepts of internalized racist oppression and internalized racist superiority. Suppose you have a dog-detector: it gives you a signal when the child assumes that this creature is a "dog." This is the truth. Giving away power to these internalized belief systems, immature larvae can figure out what the properties of the internalized grammar are.

He said, "My dog has ringworm because I have ringworm." Has internalized the “pain finding” questions. Has internalized the "pain funnel" questions. Doesn't do "dog and pony shows." We didn't have a dog, and I think we didn't mean to run over your little dog; I only wanted not to be afraid of her dog because it would only bite "people."

So what if the President is a dog? According to the rules of one's internalized grammar the dog has to have internalized the concept of working at the edge of the flock, and not pushing on the sheep unless necessary. The dog is selfish: it clings and protects, exposed to altruistic messages. "I'll give my friend a hot dog." This kind of transaction usually requires dog food. But it's really great dog food.