Single Dot Club Level Two


New Toy for 2004 - The Squishie
 


Stepford Suckmonkey
 


 ARNOLD'S SORDID PAST

  God Passes
God, Bob and Jesus went to hell.
God felt quite at home since he had made
hell. Bob felt a little uneasy being laid
on a bed of red hot coals while
demons eviscerated him. "Tell
you what I'll do," said God. “Since you've prayed
so much before you came here and stayed
sort of sin free, let's have Jesus spell
you for a while. After all, he's good
at this sort of thing, what with that gig
on the cross." "Well," said Jesus, "I could
probably manage that if a great big
fat monkey flew out of your ass."
"Sorry Bob," said God. "I think I'll pass."
 
Teary-Eyed Coyote
Coyote dreamed that his
dick spoke to him.
"Would you happen to know
the nearest appropriate place
I could launch a massive load
of spew?" said Coyote's dick.
"Certainly," said Coyote,
"Just follow me."
"Well, of fucking course I'll
follow you," said Coyote's dick.
"I'm your fucking dick!"
"Well, you don't have to be
vulgar about it," said Coyote.
Then Coyote's dick lauched a massive
load of spew right in Coyote's face.
At that moment Jesus entered
the room. "Ah," said Jesus,
"By the moistness around your eyes,
it appears that you have been weeping
over the recent tragedies."
"Er, Uh, yeh," said Coyote,
"weeping profusely."
"Good," said Jesus, "otherwise
a more cynical soul might have
conjectured that you had been
jacking off in your own face.

Song Lyric
In the great frozen North when it's twenty below,
most intelligent folks just don't know where to go,
but morons like me step outside with no fear.
We got duct tape, maggots and beer.
Yes duct tape, maggots and beer's what I said.
You can catch lots of fish. You can flat knock 'em dead.
No, I'm not full of bull shit right up to my ears,
not with duct tape, maggots and beer.

Dots
Emerson said something about looking back
upside down between your legs if you
want a new perspective. Coleridge got whacked
on laudanum. Thoreau got his looking through
the bars of a jail. Plath didn't exactly
choose electricity, but it certainly had
its effect. They say Faulkner matter-of-factly
stopped drinking when he wrote, but had such a bad
case of the spins he couldn't deliver the elegant
sobriety of his Nobel speech. For me, the answer's
an amphetamine salt tablet stimulant,
a serotonin-uptake mood enhancer,
a couple cups of coffee and two stiff shots
of vodka. My perspective? Connect the dots.

 A Suburban Legend
"Once every ten thousand years, the massive
Beluga Trout swims into the dream of the purest
purist on God's green earth. Otherwise passive,
the Beluga Trout feels compelled to exhibit the queerest
behavior in this dream. In sexual ecstasy, it blows
its milt into the dreamer's unconscious and with broad
sweeps of its tail over everything the dreamer knows,
it fans the sperm into vivid memories only God
in His almighty wisdom might interpret." I heard
this from an old drunk in a Montana bar right
at closing time. The story seemed pretty absurd,
but I went home and dreamed his haiku that night:
"He who holds his poop/For the longest time
will have/The most compact turds." Was this a sign?

Me and Cody and Keith
So we're roll-casting to these little pods
of rainbow, but we're sooo baaaked, us guys
think we're causing the rises with our rods,
and then Cody falls and just about buys
it when he sees this underwater butterfly,
and he reaches down to pick it up, and this whole
dead beaver comes up with it, and he starts to cry
because he's so freaked because the beaver's soul
has made him think its front teeth are a butterfly
and there he is, holding a rotting beaver
by its teeth screaming, "Tell me, God, why
does this shit happen to me? I'm a fuckin' believer,
man. I don't need this shit," then Keith
says, "This beaver does," and sticks a joint in its teeth.

The Finest Materials
To tie a sucker-ducking waffle-honker
one must use only the finest materials. Take
the husk of a big dead bug. Make sure it's longer
than your dick. Without letting it break,
tie it to the shank of an ought four hook
then soak it in spit. When the spit soaked bug husk
starts to reconstitute, strain and cook
four large chunks of jackal vomit till a pus
skein forms on the surface. Drag the eye
of the hook over the skein making sure to leave
the chunks themselves intact. If you heave
during this step, you must start over, but by
the time you find another dead bug
your dick will have shrunk so it needn't be big.

 

 




 

Chicken Hawk Song (click to listen)

Chicken Hawk - Lyrics

When I was young my country planned
to make me kill the yellow man,
but I protested Viet Nam
and didn’t go to war.

There were those who thought it wise
to cheer the war but realized
the risk, so they let braver guys
fight their ugly war.

Chorus:
Balk, Balk, chicken hawk,
don't give the truth a second thought.
You walk the walk and you talk the talk,
but you never fought a war.

Strut and posture, never gamble,
see a fight, away you scramble.
Little guys like Saxby Chamblis
never fought a war.

Chorus

A country singer saw the need
to rouse the troops and send them speeding
off to fight, but Toby Keith, he
never fought a war.

Chorus

Some will risk their lives and some will
risk the lives of others’ sons while
crazy guys like Donald Rumsfeld
never went to war.

Chorus

Some deputies are full of it
and plan wars for the hell of it
though planners like Paul Wolfowitz
never went to war.

Chorus

Soldiers does it trouble you
that in Iraqi rubble you
risk your lives though Doubleyou
never went to war.

Chorus

Yes, Cheney, Lott, Pearl and Ashcroft
Delay, O’Reilly, Hume and Limbaugh
Abrhams, Hassart, Dubya--they all
never fought a war.

Chorus
Antivirus Virus

 To download our upgraded antivirus virus
drag your old antivirus program to the trash
then install our new Isis/Osiris
Antivirus Resurrect-All Crash-
saver. If a bomb appears on your screen
or you happen to get the blue-screen special,
take your computer and hold it firmly between
your knees. After about a minute your flesh'll
start to crawl. Now, take a Norton
CD Ram, shove it in, reboot
and shove a MacAfee disc in your ass. Snortin'
like a castrated mule, relax and shoot
your computer as it falls from your knees to the ground.
If you don't have AIDS by this time, stick around.



 


Pretty Much America
Mic, wop, spick, nigger, kike, wog, slope, beaner,
limey, bohunk, polak, kraut, nip--
that's pretty much America--the meaner
the better. But wait, I forgot to rip
on the camel jockeys, the diaper heads; and while
I'm at it, I might as well include the blanket
asses since they were here first. That pile
of crap about equality? Let's crank it
up till it blows out Uncle Sam's ass.
Then let's elect a president who knows
how to delegate this hate inflated gas
where it will do the most damage. I suppose
that's the upshot of democracy. Let US be.
Let THEM rot--here in the land of the free.


Uncle Sam Propping Up A Tin-Horn Dictator
 

 

Make War Not Love
Because of fair Monica's tush,
poor Bill to disrepute was pushed.
Had he not loved Lewinski
but bombed like Kaczynski,
he'd be praised like George W. Bush.
 

DOWNSTREAM SALMON


 
Gearman Limerick
An ardent flyfisher named Behr
once said of some spew in his hair,
"Though it makes me look potent,
the spew is just floatant.
There's more on my fly, but don't stare

 

Coyote Ties A Fetus Flopdoctor
Coyote's fishing trip to the New Jersey
coast seemed doomed at first
because he hadn't brought
any flies to imitate the native forage,
but the he ran into Sewergator
a resident of the area who showed
him how to tie the local favorite
which imitated items in
the daily sewage tides.
Coyote found the fly very simple
to tie, except for attaching
the condom and syringe.
Overheard Cell-chat
If we could do lunch tomorrow it would be
just super. I know a smashing place where
the crem brulé will utterly knock your
socks off. That's where I hooked up with Phoebe
last month. You can't tell at a glance, but she
has absolutely the most massive boobage . Sure
I did. No, no, actually, she was wearing Dior.
Can you believe? Exactly! exactly! exactly!
And she has this little thing she does with her front
teeth. Absolutamente, mi amiganator.
No, No, I'm afraid I'll have to punt
if she ever tries THAT. Well, you're a greater
man than I. But it's back to work, the Dow
calls. I'll see you noonish tomorrow. Ciao. 		Telephrodite
You are beautiful. I want you. Take
me you brute. Oh you're so big. Hurt
me. Oh yes, that's right. Talk dirt
while you do that. Yes, I want you to make
me squeal. Stretch me. Go deep. I won't break.
Oh God, oh God, let me feel that spurt
of deep throbbing juice down from my pert
parts to my molten core. For Christ's sake
don't stop. Fill me till I pop. Split
me wide open you big bull of a mule
till I don't know whether to whistle or spit.
Make my eyes roll back, make me drool.
Now, state clearly, while you're throbbing hard,
the number on your Visa or Master Card.


Lickitung

 Bazark
I am Bazark of the chitonous droid sector.
I feed on mucoid polyps through my ventral
tubes and deposit my egg clusters in the central
nervous systems of my hosts. My vector
of choice is the ionian leech, whose genetic nectar
creates the perfect medium for an entrail
infestation. When the mucous engorged tendrils
of a suitable mate convulse then become erect or
at least tumescent, the leech suffers dysfunction
in its cloacal contractions, and gonadal curds
replace its fecal juices. At the junction
of these organs, the activated flagellum herds
the spermatic microbots into the distended
biotic sacs and the process is thus ended.

Minus the Chicken
Well, of course you think it tastes like chicken.
If you cut out your ass hole, rolled it in flour
and dropped it in hot fat, it'd taste like chicken.
Then put it under a heat lamp for, say, an hour
or ten, and it's gonna taste like chicken minus
the chicken. Try some of this snake. Chaw
on some of this turtle. This here frog's the finest
you’re gonna find south of Toad Suck, Arkansas.
If you gutted the Lord God himself, dipped
him in batter and tossed him in boiling lard,
you might find him a sight better than ripped
up bread or a communion cracker. It'd even be hard
to pass up chicken fried tofu, mashed flat,
triple dipped and cracklin' fresh from hot hog fat.

 Must Be
It must be true because I saw it on
T.V. It must be real because I saw
it at the mall. It must be above the law
because I felt it in my pants. It's gone
because I saw it run across my lawn.
It must be dead because I ate it raw.
It must be love because it is my flaw.
It must be hate because it makes me yawn.
It must be bad because it feels so good.
It must be God because it feels so bad.
It must be me. I'm standing where I stood.
It must be death. It's turned into a fad.
It must be trust because my ass is sore.
It must be hell, or what's a heaven for?

Drills in the Event of the Absurd
When the last trout swims out of my dreams
I'll sign up for the Legion of Paper Clips.
Until then, I'm resigned to this life of streams
and limitless color. All these black & white blips
on my screen labeled "Incoming" have turned out
to be false alarms, drills in the event of the absurd.
I would put words around each thought, each doubt
like a caddis uses sand to gird
its larva for that long stretch into flight,
but I'd rather watch the fly itself
than a poet striving for importance. Night
comes fast beyond the continental shelf,
just ask any giant squid prolapsed from all
the pressures of an ordinary life gone into a stall.

  
We'd Better Do Some Bombing First
Those old people don't need pills right now.
We'd better do some bombing first. Those planes
that flew into those big buildings, they somehow
had something to do with Iraq. While Saddam remains
in power, weapons of mass destruction will need
our atomic bombs to stop them. Yes, education
is important and we will have to learn to read
and to make tests and teach the youth of our nation
how to pass the tests. That way the axis
of evil will never get us, and our social security
will be safe with lots of business dollars. Taxes
will be cut more and more, and the purity
of American blood will not be spilled in vain,
and a building won't be hit by another plane.
Meat Stacking
When Big Dan came to help me put the meat
in the truck, I thanked him good then stacked
meat for the next six weeks. I was beat
after all that hard meat stacking, so I packed
up what meat I had left, lugged it out
to the dump and let it rot. God, I'd had
it up to here with Big Dan by then, so about
eight one night I slugged him in the gut a tad
too hard and he puked on my truck. That fat wad
of crap puked on my truck. If I hadn't just
taken Jesus Christ as my personal Lord God
and savior, I might have had to flat out bust
his miserable head off and shit down his neck.
But I had, and I didn't, so what the heck.		 This One Thing
I just want to register my shock and concern
about people who, without their shock and concern,
wouldn't have an ounce of credibility. Learn
this one thing and you may just earn
yourself a gold potty star: It's not
what you know but who you blow. O.K.,
now that I've made myself clear, what
say you present your rear like a mandrill. What say
you bustle to a superior and present your rear
like a mandrill. And now, what say, in the face of death
you bustle to a superior and present, without fear,
your rear like a mandrill, and then with your dying breath
you register your shock and concern about those who fail
to register their shock and concern on the superior's scale.
 
The Guide's Last Ride
 No, don't cast there. Mend! Mend!
Watch out on your back cast. You have too much slack.
Don't stand up. We're in rapids. Watch your end
of the boat. Shit, I said watch....Get in the back!
O.k., o.k., you row and I'll try to get
you untangled. Jesus, did you put your line in a blender?
Damn, I said row, not jack off! I just love getting wet.
Splash me some more. Now that you've managed to render
us totally dead in the water, would you mind taking
your knee out of my crotch and tossing me a beer
from the cooler? You drank them all? I'm breaking
your line. You figure it out fuckhead. Did I hear
you right? You have to shit? You DID shit?
In your waders? Row me to the bank. I quit.



Click To Enlarge