
I have the feeling that something went horribly wrong.
My sense of humor is often about how far away from reality a situation could get.
I went through a “cannibal” phase. I would write co-workers notes asking them to join me in signing petitions to stop harassment of cannibals.
Now it seems, reality has trumped me again.
There’s a cop who’s been arrested for being not just a cannibal, but the leader of a ring of cannibals. I couldn’t make this up.

So it seems Morse didn’t actually invent Morse code. Snapped from the latest HowStuffWorks magazine.

Scan Of Mummy Reveals Pharaoh Died With His Throat Slit
Images from the scan revealed that Rameses III’s throat had been cut through to his spine, severing the windpipe, esophagus, and large blood vessels of the neck […]
Heebee geebee.
i’ve had stitches very near both eyes. too young to remember in both cases. mom always said i fell down the stairs…until last summer when she let it slip that i’d been pushed. anyhoo…
i remembered some of your work from when you lived somewhere once. it was like a flood crashing down and what looked like crosses or telephone poles being washed away. it was always a favorite of mine; that one and the one that looked a little like glen, maybe it was andrew jackson, with a fist hole through it.
“Back before Facebook, people had faces.”
and if this keeps up it’ll undoubtedly be the 4th or 7th weirdest night of my life. eating the chicken and drinking the wine, we were parked in georgetown, near —- park, and having identical indecipherable conversations with each other’s imaginary friends. apparently. as near as i could tell, my thesis seemed to be that i wasn’t racist, hence, i was sitting in his car at 3 in the morning, under the influence in the midst of affluence, paying for the privilege of smoking my weed and drinking his wine that i paid for. immune to my blather, he droned on about his missed opportunity to be an accountant at his brother-in-law’s firm in howard county, the particulars of which were disputed by different manifestations of his personality.
Eyes
twitching in hardly 20
minutes. Sherlock-ing answers from
whyte-tiles. make mistakes? smoking
doesn’t solve my problems. Might
have been the cattlyst, an engine.
oxygen for glowing-embers. { damn
you hobble } impatience will be my
cru-si-fix-shun. Re-assure-ants from
a good-friend wood have plucked
the doubt. Took a rain-check. It lay
there. Am I sleeping any better? No
po-sit-shun will snuff stirred-coal.
Hardly an hour and { i should’ve
stayed } never left ever { go } and now I
know why I shouldn’t, was a cold
engine. Now ouch to the touch. No
solace lays with staying and no
fault-lines lie with waiting. Now am
.waiting.4.the.call. and rep-i-ti-shus.
volunteer torments for an e-ternitee
in Dante’s allegory { wright me in }
only to lay but with stolen tonight.
Again.
i think i speak for the entire congregation when i say, "Praise the very fucking funny Lord."
© jimi
