Let this video forthwith convince you that not only are moments of meta-life out of time/body possible even in the mono-life we find ourselves constrained within, but that bobby animal heads cure lupus.
So welcome to Lucky Punkass! If you found your way over here from HCwDB, pull up a chair. Help yourself to some cayenne pepper lemonade left over from last week’s juice fast.
It’s over there. On the alpaca veranda by the carrot garden.
Cups are on the oak table by the peachnut tree.
So I was at Trader Joes the other day buying my coconut water. And a strange Dickensian paperboy came up to me in the frozen chocolate banana aisle. He wore a dickie.
And the paperboy asked me: “Please, sir? Praytell what is the point of Lucky Punkass?”
So I answered: “There is no point, thanks for asking. It is a mystery of alchemy and pepper pinch.”
And the Dickensian paperboy went back to rubbing his stomach forlornly and selling his clothing for scrap to pay for gruel.
Yup. No clue what I’m saying.
Alls I know is it’s time for me to rant again. On a corner of the interwebs rarely visited and mostly just me shouting into the bleak existential void that Hal Halbrook warned Charlie Sheen about in Wall Street.
My weekend consisted of ice cream sandwiches and sushi. This much I know. And no, that wasn’t a metaphor. I eat a lot.
I’m trying to sell a new show and dabbling in other things, and wandering the streets of the proverbial Philadelphia with echoes of the waste that was the 1990s.
I wrote a rant for this site about “Looper” but decided I don’t want my new personal blog to be stupid movie reviews or the rapid pop culture response team that seems to drive so many to take digital pen to pixelated paper.
No. I want to find a higher meaning and a deeper truth. Beyond the douchebags and boobies.
And so I dig.
In posts like this. Without pictures or links. But with soul. I got soul.