Tuesday, May 17, 2005

The Wisdom of Captain Beefheart, With Commentary

Nowadays a woman has to haul off and hit a man to make him know she’s there. But not in the crotch, O.K.?

When I see mommy, I feel like a mummy. When I see daddy, I feel like a vampire. Mainly because my dad’s Dracula. But I think I’d probably feel that way even if he wasn’t.

The clouds are full of wine, not whiskey or rye. Unlike my liver.

The dust blows forward and the dust blows back. Can someone please shut the kitchen door?

A squid eating dough in a polyethylene bag is fast and bulbous. Riiiiiight.

You should know, by the kindness of a dog, the way a human should be. I am therefore going to begin shitting on carpets and eating my own vomit at some point during the week.

The man with the woman head. What the hell is that all about, anyway? That’s a little weird.

Later she came back, with a rumpled paper sack, which she told me would contain a surprise. Michael tried this trick on me once, and I still have not fully recovered.

Check these out, big eyed beans from Venus. Seriously, I bought them from that guy who lives in the park and makes his own “State of the Union” addresses to the squirrels.


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