The Message

On Wednesday morning, June 5th, I received the following message on my cell phone voice mail. The caller never identified himself. His voice wavers at times, but his message does not...

Note: This revised version of The Message contains additional bla-bla-bla at the end. The original version was truncated for reasons notwithstanding. The final piece has been included for your viewing pleasure and substantial exaltation. 

The Soup - What U Gonna Do 'Bout It

So here's a new song I wrote and recorded. Made a video of it. You're going to love it. It's all about how everything's a hot mess and how the Sun's going to clean it right up.

Enjoy!

btw: This video and song belong to my person, and if you mess with it, God through me will sick an army of karma on you. Peace.

I Rode Up On a Rocketship

I rode up on a rocketship to heaven's pearly gates

The doorman said, "Got yer ticket?

Out the thicket! We gots no room fer pagan hate

Fer tricks, an rickshaw runnin cow-bowin Hindooz,

Kow-towin Boodasts, shucklin Jooz,

Up in these here bles-sed hills...

If yer not fer Jeezus, ya kin git to Hell!"

Politely I reminded him of my Christening,

My goodly, Christian glistening, my listening

To all those sermons piously 'neath stained glass

On Sunday mornings with a tear upon my cheek.

"Yeh bet yer ass!" he spat and opened up the way.

"Git yonder 'n an see with yer own lit gaze

He that died to set yer white soul free! Go'n ye!"

I humbly nodded and stepped

Across that glorious threshold

To behold the Son of Man

And that vast array of angels He commands.

His glowing countenance showering forth

Radiant light. His hair and robes like snow.

His flaming heart with beams of love and grace.

His face a thing of perfect symmetry,

His every move geometrically aligned,

And I bowed down and cried

And kissed his nail-pierced feet.

He greeted me with kind embrace

And whispered in my shivering ear,

“My child, come nearer,

I will take thee to my Father’s house,

Where lie the many mansions of that vast mind.”

Boldly then we flew before the throne of grace,

Which looked oddly like a circus tent,

I mused, and curiously turned a curious eye on Christ.

“Not I,” he leered, his teeth as pearly as the walls,

“But the Father…” and with so grand a gesture

Swept my gaze upon a maudlin clown.

Aghast I sucked the astral air into my lungs,

My tongue cleft tight upon my stunned mouth’s roof,

As garish pantaloons ballooned out from

That great fool’s suspenders, hung like fish kites,

Round mouthed “Oh-ing”

At the gaping space beneath his tipping tottering toes.

Gayly whirling, pasty white, and spackled fresh

As picket fences on a Sunday lawn,

His garish grin, red-rimmed and lush as sin.

“My God!” I gasped,

And he who died for me

Spoke: “Now you see.”

Tucson Wants to Intercept my Lottery Winnings

Dear Sir or Madam,

Thank you for your public service.

Now that we have dispensed with the niceties, I would like to address a matter of minimal concern to myself and likely of minimal concern to you as well. Since I suspect, at the end of the day, as surely as I am merely a statistic, thou art merely a bureaucratic drone, I therefore greet you with the tepid fervor of a man uncaring, and you, I presume, receive me with the same inconsequent torpor. No doubt a profound humanity shivers at the gooey center of our culturally sculpted frames, but that is neither the “here” nor “there” of it. It is our business that is imminent, though our natures be eminent.

After some novel correspondence with the City of Tucson I was under the distinct but, lo and behold, apparently misinformed impression that our row concluded when I sent you those fivers in a Federal Reserve note,a Monopoly bill, and my own special printing. I skipped merrily along my tortuous way with the false comfort that my tiff with Tucson was, as the French say, fin.

Then, as suddenly as meteorite debris o’er Russia, I was sent a terse note:

NOTICE OF DELINQUENT ACCOUNT with threats of “the interception of Arizona tax refunds or lottery winnings” in red.

“Oh my!” thought I, and my little lower class heart leapt in my chest.

In regards to the interception of my Arizona tax return: Even though I live frivolously and suavely below the poverty line, I have yet to ever receive a tax refund from the State of Arizona. I am actually wondering upon whom or what I have to perform fellatio in order to receive said refund. My next question would be, would the City of Tucson take fellatio in settlement for a delinquent account. This is not to say that I would be willing to give fellatio to Tucson Proper, but rather a question of whether Tucson could legally intercept any fellatio I may have coming to me by any number of Proper Tucsonians.

With regards to the interception of lottery winnings: While I don’t play the lottery… ever… I’d like to think that if I did play and won (at odds of 1 in 135,000,000 for the Mega Millions jackpot; 1 in 50,000,000 for the Megabucks Slot Machine jackpot; or 1 in 960,000 for the $1,000 Scratch ticket) that I would still be awarded my full share without your claimed $523.60 being deducted. Moreover, I would contend that my odds of becoming a billionaire (1 in 7,000,000) or becoming President of the USA (1 in 10,000,000) are still better chances, by 7 and 5 times respectively, than are my chances of winning the Megabucks Slot Machine jackpot. By this measure I would encourage you to seek your paltry trove in my future as a billionaire or as a President, as your surety of payment is significantly greater under these rare circumstances, as would be your cut if I were to sue Jehovah, God for damages in the event that I am struck by lightning (1 in 700,000) or dealt a royal flush in a high-stakes poker game (1 in 650,000). My ample point is that there are easier interceptions than this Hail Mary lottery scheme of yours, and perhaps you would be willing to hire me as an assessor of other rewarding statistical probabilities whereby the sheered public may render unto Caesar, or in my case, the cops.

Following your rude red letters comes a rather vague allusion, “…and other sanctions authorized by law.” I would like full disclosure on this point, as “indefinite detention”, “my firstborn son”, “my left nut”, and “taking it out of my ass” are less than desirable options for me. I would like to see my choices on this front, and I am happy to work out a mutually beneficial solution that doesn’t involve “a pox on my house”.

I remain ever insubordinate,

Ox in the Box

Society for Theocratic Anarchy