I wrote this.

I am not sure if this is a bad poem or the opening sentences of a bathetic mystery thriller. If it is a poem, it needs a second stanza. Too sad. If it is the opening of a throwaway novel, it achieves the right level of sappy happy bathos. 

I am not sure I can do a second stanza. It is one sloppy happy thing to go on social media and leak words;  writing is another thing entirely. The word KOOL has to go. 

Dying can only be done alone.

Kool if you have loving company. 

Bad if you have cold company. 

Worse if you have none.

Mormons Are Dangerous - Real Philadelphia #3

I live in a Philly Rowhouse. My door opens right onto the street. I am hanging out at home one day minding my own business.  I hear Knock Knock on the door. I quick open it.

Standing there are two young guys who look like Tarantino Hit Men. As I was about to draw my sword in defense, I saw little name tags. It is Elders Keith and Kevin. I said "Yo guys. Where's the other K?"

Elder Keith said "We have come to share some scripture with you, Ma'am." I said "Sure. We have all sinned and fallen short of the glory of God." And the scripture throwdown was on. They quoted shit at me; I quoted shit at them; they quoted shit at me...and then, I had an Epiphany.

Elders Keith and Kevin started to look a little sweaty to me. I had a moment of intense self consciousness. I realized I was standing in my doorway in my pajamas, hair uncombed, no bra, doobie in hand at 3:30 in the afternoon. And what was going on for Elders Keith and Kevin was "Oh boy. We have only been in Philly one week and we have met our first real drug addict." I resent that. I am a writer. Context is everything.

I was so upset by the Mormon invasion that friends from St. Philomena's decided I was in dire need of crisis counseling. We went to the Toilet Bar in Frankford. I got so drunk I was treading the fine line between ecstasy and puking. So one of the Ushers took me out into the alley and rolled me a doob. I was able to avoid puking, mellow out and explain myself. Timothy is such a thoughtful young man.

It is not that I do not like Mormons. I understand the spiritual impulse. I have read The Varieties of Religious Experience. I hang out with Quakers and they are really peculiar. I have even been known to drop acid and consult the Lawn Gnomes.

No. It is not that I don't like Mormons. No. This is what bothers me. I am a mental health consumer, occasionally medicated for public safety. I still think Mitt Romney SuperMormon is coming to get me. I know Mitt Romney thinks the same.

Diwali Dog

Nepalis know how loyal man's best friend can be and celebrate canine companions in an annual festival called Kukur Tihar. Meet Moti. What a beautiful being.

Diwali 2019 Date in India: This year, the festival of lights falls on October 27.

Kukur Tihar or Kukur Puja literally means the worship of dogs. This is a mini-festival within a larger Hindu celebration of Diwali, the festival of lights. 

According to Nepalese tradition, one of the festive days is dedicated to the human's most devoted friend and guardian. In Hindu religion, a dog is a sacred animal, intended to have a special bond with a human, so as to accompany us on our way to heaven.

PORK!

It is too serious around here. Past time for some Filth and Dirt. Filth & Dirt is a whole category here.

Speaking of swine, I take this opportunity to say we need to regularly and randomly drug test Congress. Start with Steve Cantaloupe Calves King. But I digress.

“Squeal” is the name of the campaign ad Joni Ernst ran during the Iowa GOP primary. Ernst said learning how to castrate hogs made her qualified to cut pork (as in federal spending) in Washington.

Fukum says "Joni Ernst is Michele Bachmann with pig testicles." Wrong. Only if she has the testicles in her pocket. 

I have it on good authority that this photograph on the left is a Joni Ernst selfie. Gives new meaning to the verb to pork.

Of course, I am lying. But why should FUX Snooze and Ernst have all the fun?

DESPITE CAMPAIGNING ON PORK-CUTTING FAMILY LIVING “WITHIN OUR MEANS,” SEN. ERNST’S KIN TOOK OVER $460,000 IN FARM SUBSIDIES

Joni Ernst's teeth make me nervous and I am not even male. I am going to stock up on popcorn and beer. I think this woman is a hoot.

This is a Cagle Post cartoon by Taylor Jones. Cagle Post could use some support from lovers of editorial cartoons. They are under political cyberattack. Contribute a little as a buck a month and enjoy guilt free superior cartoon pleasure. See the cartoonist talking about his work in the video below.