Sunday, December 26, 2010
Lohbado went to the annual Club Morono Baby Jesus Dinner down at the Tabernacle, the place of mythology and suspension of disbelief. Strong emotions surged through his long thin body, as he sat in the banquet hall, polluted with pop tunes filtered through the drone machine and compressed by drop-tile ceiling speakers to lower sound to a flavorless, easy to digest sonic consistency, like baby food. All in a positive light, no leaks, only officially endorsed subliminal messages to grease public awareness into swallowing hard pills, as wealthy control groups laughed up their sleeves at how easy it was. Another two years of tax breaks; reduce assistance to sick, poor, unemployed and elderly.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Lohbado had Christmas blues, good evil routine, sin forgiveness merry-go-round, the wheel of happy sad, good times bad times, arrogant and on top of the world a while and then at the bottom, afraid, suspicious and discouraged. The blues ended as three wise aliens appeared in the east and communicated with Lohbado via a Zog-voice-de-scrambler.
Monday, December 13, 2010
What would you like for Christmas? How much is that gray cat in the window, not to mention the golden good luck cat or the red bicycle? The window also features the Moronovian syllable "OR", which means, the great alternative. It's also the French word for gold. In other words, the situation holds rich possibilities. Whether things go one way, or the other, the results will be favorable.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
One night grandmother got really drunk. She stole her grandson's scooter and drove around the village, screaming and hollering in her nightgown. She tried to seduce a man in front of his wife. They slapped each other, pulled hair. Later her husband got angry.
She said: "Don't judge. There's a reason things are the way they are."
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Funny smell, is it my breath? Do I have toast and coffee, kitty litter breath in the morning? It takes a couple cups of hot coffee to burn away the slime and muck that coats mouth and throat after a night in bed. The bed serves as a doorway to dreamland. Sometimes disconnected mind appears to communicate with dead friends and family.