Posted in Almost Dorothy, Politics, Themes

H is for Harvey. BP is for Butt Phuck.

I just want to reiterate that Harvey Milk was really cool because he fought for the rights of Franciscan monks and was assassinated for being one of us. I swear. That’s what I heard on the television. It’s called Hulu. Seriously. Mom says I should become a homosexual just like him. I told her she should too. She said she’d think about it and get back to me when I get back to her.

By the way, I love birds. Beasts. Hairy cars. Things like bees that fly West or left with their own energy, which is neither alternative nor fossil. The wild is full of authority. If we all inhale deep, simultaneously, come on we can hold hands too, I believe we can suck  all the oil and gas out of the Gulf. And, if we all exhale, simultaneously, I believe we’ll all die from carbon dioxide poisoning. It’s just a theory I have. Anyway.

Keep driving your cars round and round the mall parking lot. Keep shopping cause you’re gonna need those Louboutins to impress God or Bette Davis when you enter the final Living Room. It’s funny how Louboutins sounds like Louis Vuitton. Must be some phonetic dumbing down for dumbass Americans like mom and people called Babs. I love you Babs.

It’s funny because when I spellcheck Louboutins I get two options: “ignore suggestion” and “ignore always”. I’ve always loved always. Always reminds me of sometimes like the time I was a boy and didn’t have to find my inner child cause he was all around me–kissing me while I was kissing him. My inner child. Looking for the answer to flight.


I'm not real, but I'm a writer.

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