Compounding anxiety. Stress relief balls. You squeeze toys
risibling your boss.
Everything that can go wrong has gone wrong at
the bottom of the barrel.
What did I do?
What's the meaning of this?
Go to your room.
I'm in my room. I'm still in my room.
Get off my back.
What are you trying to do to me?

Paranoid toolbox full of diamonds.
You swear you'll be discovered.
One day they'll all realize
I'm not like the others.
One of these days, Allis.

Sleigh bells pinging.
Grilled turkey.
Thanksomething dinner.
Who cares anymore? Who the
F**K do you think you are?

God'll solve
the problem. Wave God's
magic wand.
Deus ex
machina.
Send us all
to Heaven for being so brilliant. Send them all
to Hell for doubting me. Send them.
Send their sorry selves.

The channel listings are correct.
Turns out my show was preempted by the State of the Union Address.
Bunch of
shit. Crock of
shit. I want
what was promised. I was promised
this, promised that.
TV Guide, what do you have to gain by lying?
I was promised a thousand virgins on my lap.
Eternal life was a last
hope stringing me along.
String me up by my toenails. Crock of
shit.

Get rich quick.
Buy out the mall.
Business ventures take a turn for the door. Don't walk out on me.
Run, you coward. When they get to know you
they'll run. Run away.

Hide like crusty underwear
at the bottom of the hamper.
Enjoy a nice cup of joe.
Like the weather? It's God's doing.
F**K God in the ass
with a two by four.
Tell God
it's for lying.
Tell God it's for God's own good.
Tell God it hurts you more than it hurts God.
If only it was God's fault.

Blame the establishment. Church.
Blame the parents for taking
you to Church. Blame
the Catholics. Mom, and Dad were
way off. God
is everywhere. Buildings aren't important. We built
them to cage God.

Fault lies with the mob,
also known as the unaffected scapegoat. Don't fit in. Try not to.

"In the words of Kermit The Frog," Chris said, "'It isn't easy being green.'"
It isn't easy being yellow, I replied.
"It isn't easy," he said,
"being chartreuse."
My last day in the corporate machine spent
one-uping my boss playing who
can come up with the most obscure color.
The world wasn't watching. The world still
turns on an axis. The world, well, it'll keep
spinning when we're gone.

We'll be gone. We lived in the golden age like
pilgrims, and Nazis. For a time it was
everything imaginable. See.
Fantasies do come true.

You, naysayer. You, capitalistic monkey wrench.
Bigger with big business. Cut out
the middle man. Cut out
the working-class. All hail
Big Brother. The new overlord
stamped my wrist.
Goodnight, oh, Lords of the Loom.
Long live credit.
Long live outsourcing.

We're in God's country.
Quiet citizens are we.

Told and told again God's way is
The way. Pity for those who walk
the streets. Pity the fools who don't recognize.
Trail off like a depraved heart beating in your chest.

I want.

Finally, I want
something. Finally, I can see my head
is shaped like a lemon.
I'm the Rolde’s Royce of lemonheads. It's high
time I did something about it. Ambition
is fleeting. Purpose drives.

I talk the talk. But can I walk said walk?
Can I ignore
the saints? Will I gather
tradition in a red, plastic cup?
Stayed tuned for another episode.
Same bat place.
Same bat time.
Please come again.

I changed my mind. I want
a little house on a prairie.
The grass could be green. The grass could be
greener. The cows would come home
every night. The summers would be hot. The mobs,
they'd be tame. Winters would be cold.
But not that cold. Just cold enough
for us to remember
what winters were like. On the outside.

Winters were Hell on Earth. Lakes of fire
iced over. Seas were white.
Sweat frozen to the scalp.
Children huddled during recess.
Teachers blowing steam whistles.
The hot chocolate market boomed on Wall Street.
Tea and coffee were drunk like water.
Iced tea steeping in the sun was a myth.
Sartre wasn't read. Nietzsche was confusing.
We had to stick
together. We had to come
together as one.

I'm alone in an apartment.
Walls don't close in. They don't breath with me. I turn the music
down. The man next door rustles around.
The man beneath is having loud sex
with a hooker. An old lady walks her dog
every morning. The next door neighbor knows
my name.
I watch my television, and go to sleep.
And wake to work,
and go to sleep. Chiseled away
little by little by rainy afternoons.

Camelot on a hill has a maiden crying, "Promises."
Camelot on a hill fades in a grimacing face.