Sunday, November 14, 2004

Dinner on Sunday

Oh I know you wanna know what I'm having for dinner Sunday. You been wanting to ask me all damn day. I know what I'm gonna have for dinner on Sunday already, and I know it's good 'cause I ate it Thursday night and it was great then. Guess what it is. It's meatloaf. I made it, I eat it. Thank you for not wagering.

Saturday, November 13, 2004

701 lb. boyfriend

Seven Hundred Pound Boyfriend.
Just so big. Big as a house of fun. Bad as a house of wax. Built like a wax funhouse.
700 lb. boyfriend.
I met him. I weighed him in. I waxed him down. Built like a fox henhouse.
7 hundred £ boy friend.
It's ©. It's ®. ¿It's not? I hope we can still be þ ç ô, ø. I won't wax him down again.
Seven hundred pound boyfriend.
Not 600. Not five hundred. Way more than 4 hundred. Watch out for that tree!
700 lb. boyfriend.
Ask for it by name. Ask for it by color. Ask for it by cycle. Ask for anything else.
Seven hundred pounds of boyfriend.
Can you handle it? I can't handle it. I want to go now. I need something to eat.

Thursday, November 04, 2004


Get 'em while they last. A dime a dozen.
You gotta have 'em. You're gonna love 'em.
Where'd my money go? Who's got my lighter?
I pick them up. I put them down.
Too many, so many, how many, Jesus Mary, take some away.
So alone, not alone, never alone, there's bone to stone, let's fly away.
Ten penny, seven penny, three penny, Henny Penny,
Robbing and catching, that's the Navy way.
I wanna just eat them. Aren't they so cute?
Watch this footage. You can see the knife go in.
Talentless weasels. They waste my time.
They waste your time. They waste everyone's time.
I don't want any, couldn't care less any, sure wouldn't bother any,

Wednesday, November 03, 2004

Electional Disfunction

Two things.
One - Yesterday I was napping at 4:30 PM when the phone woke me up. I answered it, waited for a reply, said "Hello" again, then hung up and fell back asleep. It rang again, I answered it, no reply, I said "Hello" again, and then a distant female voice said "Hello, I'm Somename from the Maryland Republican Party and..." and I snapped out of my dream state, thought it was a recording (you have to understand that when I get junk phone calls I yell at them, even when they are a recording) and I yelled "You fucking cunt!" The voice stopped, so I continued "You woke me up! Go away and die!", and I hung up, then I realized just what I had done. I probably ruined a few moments for some Republican biddy. Heh heh heh. I imagined her red face and starchy complexion. Heh heh heh. I mean, after all, THEY'RE RUINING TONIGHT, RUINING THE COUNTRY, RUINING MY LIFE. I am SO glad I was able to bring a moment of fresh CUNT to a Republican. Heh heh heh.
Two - FUCK YOU OHIO! At last check ABC was giving Ohio to Bush, which means it's a fucking wrap and now the real hate can begin. Oh Jesus Oh Fuck Oh Hell. This is NOT GOOD. Even my buddy Matt Clark came in third of three in his attempt to win a City Council seat. I was all proud that I registered and voted and now I feel RAPED. Once again my vote meant nothing. Once I again I voted for the lesser of two evils. Once again every single vote I cast was for a LOSER. FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK. I fell for it. Never again. I bet I get my jury duty summons in the mail tomorrow. Asshole. Dick. Douchebag. I should have known better.
Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and... nah, never happen. End of the world, here we come!

Sunday, October 31, 2004

Bus plunges off Andean cliff, killing at least 28

Oh, my Peru! - Bus plunges off Andean cliff, killing at least 28
I used to talk to the bus drivers, I would tell them "Slow the fuck down!" and "Have another cup of coffee! It's the rules!" but I guess they got tired of me screaming in their ears while they were driving with one knee and had a buxom Peruvian beauty on his other knee while one hand honked and honked the horn and his other hand groped mighty portions of the afore mentioned Pervian beauty, who we will refer to as Judy, although that is not her real name. The bus drivers are careless, rude, horny, selfish, uncaring, kinda hot looking, meat eaters, breeders, former goat farmers, and not pleasant to the eye or the nose. THey are to be avoided. Do what I do, hitch a ride or catch a cab. King - out.

Sunday, October 24, 2004

Facing the facts

I turned 47 last week.
I am officially registered to vote, but I'm still not sure that I'm going to.
Nothing has cheered me in years like the Boston Red Sox.
My big toe on my right foot hurts. It's the toenail. I can't reach it, it's under the skin.
I dyed my hair red Wednesday. It turned out much darker than I wanted it to, and darker than the box said it would. At least it covered the grey.
My attempts to start a new band haven't been all that successful yet.
I'm out of coffee.
Man I love chilly weather. I don't sweat as much and I look so good in a jacket.
I wrote 2 songs this week, both with lyrics.
This is beginning to sound like Larry King.
My computer is OK now, but it's really old and cranky. I think I will call it "Mark".
Why can't I find a Pittsburgh Pirates baseball hat like they used to wear in the 70's? You remember, they were yellow with black stripes and looked kinda bee-like? I want one bad.
Where is my wah wah pedal? I can't find it anywhere? Didn't I get it back from Ben Watson?
I really wish I had a fat bag of weed. Or a skinny joint. Or some seeds. Or a Valium.
My window is open, and it's 40 degrees outside. Ahh...
I just passed wind. Noisy, but fragrance free.
I should never write a blog entry like this one ever again. Under penalty of law.

Saturday, October 16, 2004


Thursday, October 14, 2004

Bread Boxed

Rye oh why? I will never know. I'm a stupid wreck. I'm a flashing can. Cannon.
Ham On Rye? All eggs fry. I'm a certain taste. I'm a buttonaire. Button.
Hang gang sang tang hang gang sang tang
Fly to fry? I don't know. I'm on permanent leave. I'm a walking bazaar. Bizarre.
Try die try? Whatever. Oh. I'm another guy. I'm the racontaure. Blimey.
Score sore tour floor score sore tour floor
Hungary? Toujour le monde. I'm a mechanical man. I'm the restaurantaur. Billy.
Ooh, going cole slaw.
Ah, feeling plenty.
Ooh, going cole slaw.
Ah, feeling plenty.

Rodent Wars On Jupiter

Young and hard and hairless, we're the Bannister Boys.
Driving home to bother you.
Dumb and loud and wreckless, we're the Hamburger Boys.
Trying to get a message through.
John and Keith and Harold, we're the Toeknuckle Boys.
Winking and just passing by.
Huge and green and slimy, we're the Jupiter Boys.
Rodent wars and worse oh my.
(repeat until neccessary)

Friday, October 01, 2004

Cat Scratch Stevens

I'm being followed by a moon shadow. Moon shadow, moon shadow.
Leaping and hopping on the Monsanto. Monsanto, Monsanto.
And if I ever lose my mouth, all my teeth all turn south,
And if I ever lose my mouth... wee waa woo woo wee, oh yea yea yeah,
I won't have to brush no more.

How cool is it to give up a million selling recording career for a religious conversion? Change your name, disappear, have an arranged marriage, to me it says mental illness more than God told me to. George Harrison found foreign religion but all he did was write songs about Krisha, but then again, he was probably insane from being a Beatle. The only other loonie I can think of here is Sinead O'Connor, but I always thought she was a bit touched in the head from the beginning of her career.

God has never spoken to me. I have never found religion. I think I live in fear of it, because I have seen what religious fervor can do. I think of God as a crutch, and church as an outdated meeting place. Maybe some day I'll wake up and Vishnu or Jesus or maybe all of them will be at the foot of the bed pointing and gesturing wildly. I sure hope not.

Morning has broken, like a dish or glass. Blackberry tea cups covered in sponge.
Pray for the teacup, pray for the dish or glass, pray that Bush isn't reelected, pray that the polls are wrong.

Monday, September 27, 2004

Yankee go home

First I filabustered then I waggled my hands down low in the delta valley mountain top.
Ooh, yeah, the Mexican breezes. Ooh, yeah, the Antarctic freezes.
I got my hands down low in this permanent selection and the ice caps melt with the heat from many cowfarts and the bell won't ring but the siren sound is pleasing.
Ooh, yeah, the Atlantic ocean. Ooh, yeah, the lava in motion.
Wax lips did the trick again, and now I'm swimming up a fast river of hurt and the pants get shorter as the leaves get browner.
Ooh, yeah, the coyote in quicksand. Ooh, yeah, the Titanic sinks, and.

Saturday, September 25, 2004



Friday, September 24, 2004

Mark Harp Turns 42

Thursday, September 16, 2004

Gene Pritney

It isn't very pretty, what a town without larvae can do. No, it isn't very pretty, what a towel with alpaca can doodle. No, sir, it just isn't very petty, what a town without kitty kat do. No, ma'am, I tells ya, it ain't really attractive, you know, what a pity-lacking metropolis can accomplish. No, it isn't very easy, what a gown without Betty can do.
And you can rest your head on the mantle, you can roll your own by the door, and you can friccazee with Fiona, 'cause she's the pretty girl what's been doin' all the work.
It is not good looking what a city with low esteem and sorrow issues can can can do do. Can do. No, Can do. Cando cando cando. Blocked my memory trout with some J-42 Unabomber style, boy. I can see and read the numbers on the back of your skull.

Monday, September 13, 2004

Plaid shorts don't make it

Oh, leave my plaid shorts alone.
Yes, won't you leave my plaid shorts alone.
Please, I say, please just leave them alone.
The plaid shorts. Leave them alone.

And my plaid shorts aren't bothering you.
Please leave my plaid shorts alone.
And my plaid shorts aren't worrying you.
The plaid shorts. Leave them alone.

Yes, let them be, like a bird on a stick.
The plaid shorts are not for your amusement.
I wear them until the seams split.
The plaid shorts, that is. The plaid shorts.

So, I ask again, about the shorts of plaid.
Let them be. Let me be. Let them be plaid.
The plaid shorts have left the building.
The plaid plaid shorts. Leave them alone.

And my plaid shorts aren't bothering you.
Please leave my plaid shorts alone.
And my plaid shorts aren't worrying you.
The plaid shorts. Leave them alone.