YOUR HAT IS QUITE POLITICAL.

Nah, he's just happy to see us.

Had the Kaiser been more durable -- you know, been a Kaiser Permanente -- maybe we'd've missed out on his disturbed successor, Ice Adolph. (His rapper name.) "Pom Pom / Pogrom / Grommet / Gram Gram" goes an original line from Ice Adolph Live at the Bööger Haus. What's the difference? Stocks are up. And by that, I mean there is more essence of animal or essence of vegetable a-percolating on the stovetop than every before. Invest in Wall St. if you prefer; I'll sink my meager gleanings into 60 Month juice of boilings, thank you kindly. The U.S. Government, on the other hand, is so much indebted to various kinds of various types that it must drop one or more letters from GDP, leaving us at P, basically, Pee, Pisswater. A roar of the pectoralis / A snore of the digitalis / A boer of the limpid phallus / Areola Borealis. The Nipple Display, that is, in the Northern Sky. The Nipple Lights of the North. Let me get something absolutely correct: Was there really an Emperor Jones or did the Ruler just have a yen for giving a little dictation? Currency is to Jones, one must conclude, as Yen is to Yen, so watch out, especially, for a tip to the lid on the bonce. "Kaiser", afterall, sounds like something one might inflict upon a Citrus, and our man's battle topper could double as a Field Juicer when the lines inevitably stall, scurvy, curvy, pervy.

LIPS THAT TOUCH LIQUOR.

Settin' the pace.

Liquor the lips and thy secret shall be known. The trick would seem to be -- liquor the rest of the body, instead. Imagine that -- a cold heart and some warm hands. Taken on face value, there is little difference, afterall, between a Metrobus and a Succubus. A deeper examination reveals that one never comes on time, while the other only comes at night. Whereas the Porcubus is leaving, right now, for the Congressional District, HA-HOOGA. Listen to Charles Mingus and fly Aer Lingus Lingus Lingus Lingus Lingus, and, dern it, don your Porcupine Hat, gnat. "Talk about the greats" someone always wants to talk about the "greats" as if it's a condition. Comin' down from the grates, "Jimmy's in there, comin' down from the grates," and he is, in there, in the closet, sleeping on his feet. Eights, of course, are one rotation away from infinity. Or, if you've got a particular kind of eight, then, infinicky. O, Bored Walk of my Water Front, O, Boardwalk of my Moist Facade, HA-HOOGA. A furlough, Jack, is an economic readjustment, not the foxpiece worn round the ankles, and a furlong is a horse-race discrepancy. Rankle, ankle, angle, wrangle. Don't know 'bout you, but I need a nip just for everyday tongue-twisters, and other twisters, I need to reach out and touch liquor, since its spirits are distal, still, a distillation, dot, dot, dot, in the Northern Sky.

BLED & WAKE-FEST.

Grisly aftermath is fun!

Believe me when I say that, originally, you weren't supposed to scream "Yahtzee!" when you triumphed at dice games but "Nazi!" instead -- perhaps when you achieved a snake-eyes kind of Fascism, throwing the venom of your palm into the air. And that, at first, you could opt for a Fascism at the Day Spa, you know, seeking to smoothe-over the defects in your maniacal allegiance, until you had to flat-out request a Facial, instead. If you try to debunk your Uncle, you'll get a Debuncle, if you try to carburate your Uncle, you'll get a Carbuncle, and if you try to monopolize your Uncle's attention, you'll get a Monocle. Skin blemishes over swaths of time could lead to Epoch Marks. But I digress. These days, with respect to our information economy, Megalomania just ain't enough Mania, you need something like Gigalomania, to get just enough Mania. Yeah, yeah, yeah: Cleveland and rivers: yeah, yeah, yeah. You can await the river all you like when you should probably abate the river, you know, get a crew, and a foreman, and have them sit around the tailgate by belching grease and ogling the Convenience Mart. 'Talegate' as in a scandal that accompanied a Yarn or 'Tailgate' as in a scandal that accompanied de Lay o' de Land? You take risk, tsk tsk, you take risk. One minute you're checking into a Bed & Breakfast, the next minute you're checking out: Period. As in Bled & Wake-fest. Optimize now, and we'll throw in four Gigs of Mania at no extra charge! Optimize now, and one of our customer service operatives will -- personally -- clap you on the Carbuncle! Bundle, Buncle, Whoa Back, Buckle.