Dog Poet Transmitting.......
May your noses always be cold and wet.
-not your ordinary Origami-
(I know it's still early days but let me say, Merry Christmas!!! ...just because you're not supposed to. I recorded a message about the founder of Christmas for our good friend James Jancik over at Feet 2 the Fire radio for his upcoming Christmas show and some resonance lingers on; probably why I said-------------),
Merry Christmas!!! Oops, I said it again. You gotta watch it. That kind of thing can pop up all over the place. It can get epidemic, which is not the same as 'getting medieval' and then the people who used to complain about armbands show up with armbands and it then becomes all the fault of Jesus Christ, for insisting on putting his hands and feet in the way of some guys with hammers, who were just trying to nail a cross for Christ's sake and... where did that guy come from? It's okay, he'll be gone shortly. And then what does he do? He won't stay put but has to show up and force some guy named Thomas to do a cavity search and I didn't even know they had a TSA back then but maybe it was the burnt offering cats with the flaming excrement?
I figure it doesn't matter if he was the guy 'they' said he was because after two thousand years of millions of people believing (cue- "Here Comes the Sun King, Beatles) and thousands of people deceiving, there had to be someone, somewhere, sometime. Since I'm a Rosicrucian and have looked into it from that angle (Yeah, I know, they're a branch of the Masons and Cornelius Agrippa made blue jeans; Agrippa Blue Jeans, 'they Agrippa your ass'!) I would have to say there was something to it because nobody was buried in Rosenkreuz's coffin; no word on Guilderstern and I may be puntificating. It's a funny thing about those Rosicrucians. They wore no outfits and their power was healing. Word has it that they walk among us, along with the other high bandwidth types, that appear in front of certain people across the ages but no one believes them, unless they see it on TV first. God was not impressed and changed the channel. Man down! But not before he reached out and painted a smiley face on the frosty 25 foot pitcher of Kool-Aid. I be witless for the prosecution.
One thing I do notice about Jesus Christ is that he makes a lot of people angry. It's understandable. He was asking a lot and it wasn't just him that was making people angry. Most people were getting angry because the people not following him but playing their version of Occupy this, were occupying the space, while vacant of the essence, so that you had a kind of empty lot, filled with noise and dressed in coffin bound glitter suits, like they were all some kind of Gary Glitter, which it turned out that they were, only it was much worse; not jailbait but pre-bait, with some kind of hidden clause rebate that gives them a Get out of Hell free card. You'd have to call it some kind of indulgence. Still they sure could build some buildings and fill them with ominous atmosphere. They lost a lot of people because of smoke inhalation from the incense and of course there were the routine concussions from the wild assed swinging censers and auto-da-fe's to make up for the shortage of candle wax, though they did have a lot of cabbages and kings for their goat's head soup.
These days you got that Michelle Bachmann Turner Overdrive, cranking up on the gospel train, proving you can't embarrass God but you definitely can do a number on yourself. I don't hate Michelle but I know she looks at me like a raccoon in the water, waiting for the Dog Poet to take a swim. At least you know there won't be any alligators, moccasins or leeches in the water because of professional courtesy. That means no spider webs in the trees either, should she be so moved as to want to sunbathe like, 'that definitely ain't no nymph' here in the forest primeval and no druid of eld I ever saw in any rubber necking traffic jam, frozen in horror, looking at a slow motion train wreck and... can I get a witness!
Somewhere today, Jesus's Michelin Tire man, the ' it's so not right' Reverend Haggee will be talking somewhere about how Jesus don't like this and don't like that but he sure does love those people with the hammers and nails and Ted Haggard and Jimmy Swaggart will be doing a hip hop version of “Different Strokes for Different Folks” during the inter (nocturnal) e-mission which sounds like it happens on the internet. We'll have Laura Ingraham doing that Advent pole dance, while Michael Savage slaps her silly, with an inflated Shiva lingam and Diwali's been over for six weeks already but he's screaming “who's your daddy”? Cause he's a dual national backdoor man for performance theater Rapture.
Bill Bennett is humping a camel, which is kinda redundant and betting that he can walk with Jesus through the eye of a needle, even if he is a little Tweedle Deedle because in fairy tales everything always comes true, as long as you don't leave the confines of the book. That's kinda like how dogma and cant become literal, as long as you don't leave the confines of the book, even though every fool in love knows that every holy book is written upon the human heart, in a secret code of flaming letters and if it isn't operating out of there, it isn't operating at all, unless it's had too much of its own anesthesia, which is the name of the girlfriend who used to go out with that opium of the masses guy, until they both overdosed, or Sid Vicious killed her.
Benny Hinn, who is the Benny Hill of Banana Republic Safari Suit Jesusland, is going to wash his nuts in the ballwasher at the seventeenth tee and make a hole in one for the lord, unless Sandusky gets there first. They're all god's quarterback, down here in the cheap seats and when you talk about offensive lines, well, I'd have to say they're 'ground and pound' all the way. Kind of like the Jets, if they didn't have a Dirty Sanchez for an appertif. You don't have to wonder where I get this stuff, it's all surround sound, in the dressing rooms behind the Chinese restaurant and that's why they call them mandarins, when they're not playing around in the eminence grease.
Oral and his brother Anal Roberts, are floating down from the heavens on tiny prayer rugs with Ben Franklin's picture on them. They met Frankie at the Hellfire Club, when they were just little sprouts. Oral's been saying that if you don't send him some more money then Jesus is going to come and take him but I can't remember if he's done that yet. Merry Christmas!!!
Appolonius of Tyana is probably still walking around, but like the rest of those high bandwidth cats, he's concealed in the shrubbery, because that is what Lady Nature will do for you, if you treat her right. Concealment in the secret bowers of Nature is one of her specialties a la maison and it's always prix fixe AND a la carte. Tell that to the Smorgasbord of directors at Monsanto. They got a little something going on with Nature that makes Dr. Frankenstein look like Little Orphan Annie, or am I thinking of Elsa Lanchester... Melissa Manchester (God help me)? It's kinda cool, you must admit, how the church authorities turned The Three Wise Men into The Three Stooges but that's pretty much the same thing as saying Jesus wasn't a Syrian and that's a little ironic given that ZATO wants to turn the place into an IHOP breakfast at the moment but Rasputin's relatives have had about enough at this point, after what happened to Anastasia, or was that Sid Vicious again and just exactly why do they call heroin, 'horse'
Sure would be nice if Miles Davis could make it to this year's Happy Holidays dinner at The White House. He could do a jazz version of a paraphrasing of John Fogarty singing, “Put a Eight headed candle in the Window, cause I'm bound to need the light”. However, Miles has gone to his big angry, curmudgeon home in the sky, where they call Ambrosia, 'horse'. Johnny Mathis probably lives next door, where you go if you're not angry, or over to Tim Hardin's across the street, where sometimes you're angry and sometimes you're not, or round the corner to Paul Butterfield's, where you can be angry and drunk, six way from next Sunday and can I have a Merry Christmas!!!
Keep those cards and letters coming people and don't forget to write “Happy Holidays” on your forehead, with black magic marker, so you can remember what you're supposed to say when you look in the mirror. I can't remember if that comes out backwards, or not, but keep in mind you will be saying, “syadiloH yppaH” if it does, which is probably okay, as long as you are not saying, “Merry Christmas”!!! You are not supposed to be saying “Merry Christmas”!!! which puts me in that Younger Bear, contrary Indian thing from Little Big Man. What that means is there's going to be a whole lot of Merry Christmas”!!! Even if I wasn't motivated before, I'm motivated now and I intend to Occupy Christmas.
We hold these truths to be self reverent, depending on what you mean by that, which is always the biggest question, however it may be demonstrated, however prima facie it may be, in the evidence of result. The courtroom is pig Latin friendly, in these days of Animal Farm. The judge looks like Santa, if he was an avid Redskin's fan. It's lumps of coal on the house, at The Apocalypse Club and The Middle East is about to look like two for one night at Little Caesars, unless something in the spirit of the season comes about, in some kind of miraculous fashion; ever hopeful, that would be me.
I know, I sound like Dr. Sardonicus, although I've never heard anything he's had to say. I don't know what that is, maybe it was a film but this is the kind of thing that happens, when you don't have any film over your eyes and you need to say something but it has to be really different and it has to be early enough, so that you can still redeem yourself, by the time Ted Bundy tries to come down the chimney, or is that Sid Vicious? Anyway, Merry Christmas!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
'Imaginary Queen' is track no. 10 of 11 on Visible's 2001 album 'God in Country'
Lyrics (pops up)
Last night's radio show is now available for download.