UP...UP...AND AWAAAAAY

every hormonally charged GEN X sci-fi campy queen wanted their heels

pinned over their head in decem of 1980 when hot to trot quarterback of the NY Jets FLASH GORDON appeared on the silver screen try'n to beat the live'n shit outta MING's army of snappily dressed hairdressers in a rough role play'n game of "try'n grab my balls Mary"

cuz he [Flash that is] and AA dropout DALE ARDEN were forced far beyond the earth's atmosphere into the outer reaches of the universe...

by psychotically insane twatless anti-vaxxer Dr ZARKOV

who were on an incompetent mission to escape the clutches of MING the MERCILESS and save the planet earth from total devastate'n destruction 

just so they could tell their harrow'n adventures on "PHIL DONAHUE SHOW"

though personally...i always saw myself as the saucy PRINCESS AURA 

 gallivant'n around in that skimpy tin foiled barely there bondage wear hardly enough to keep a tit mouse dry in a drizzle with a collection of colorful marabou boa's at her side..parade'n around her chained pet gimp fer everyone's amusement

unfortunately...MING's been have'n fun with the planet earth's destruction consider'n we were left hang'n with his alleged demise at the end of the flick!

ever since that infamous Mtv moon land'n on august 1st 1981...there has

been hundreds of billions of benjamins wasted on explore'n the vast gases of outer space fer no other reason than to oooh and ahhh the masses sitt'n on their asses to watch the latest videos from 

"THE BUGGLES" to 

"THE BANGLES" and everyone in between 

so why should the recent exploration of billionaires burn'n thru their hard earned coins to show who's got the bigger balls be any different?

lets begin with british mega billionaire RICHARD BRANSON who got his

claim to fame by open'n VIRGIN RECORDS shops in 1972 followed by his airline and so on...

and struck musical oil owe'n some of his success to one BOY GEORGE who catapulted Sir Richard's career when he signed CULTURE CLUB on as clients in 1982

(let yer fingers do the walk'n and google the rest on yer own)

next up insert billionaire to all things you desperately just can't live without 

from scary remote controlled dinosaurs to dinosaur dildo's..JEFF BEZOS earned his beyond comfortable status in life thanx to you...the lazy couch surf n turf'n consumer who couldn't be bothered to drive their tired and often dilapidated A double snakes to mega middle class shopp'n staples of america... 

fer the latest and greatest "must have" of the season fer some reason eventually putt'n 'em on the retail chop'n block

so utterly bored with the planet earth and their butt load of benjamins...

both BRANSON and BEZOS decided to show off who's got the biggest balls and built their own super sonic rocket ship to blast off to the planet MONGO...presumably...to search fer MING's ring and though alotta the lil middle class canker sores gave both self earned billionaires alotta bullshit fer waste'n bookoo bucks on their space exploration..IT WAS THEIR MONEY TO SPEND AS THEY SEE FIT THAT YOU THE CONSUMER GAVE THEM...so sit down and STFU!

BUTT...let's be real

if you think fer a minute that either billionaire is try'n to escape the planet's

impend'n doom and destruction...to pulverize you into a puddle of DNA while they live a life of ludicrous luxury in MING's castle...lemme put yer frivolous fears at ease kittens!

fer either of these 2 or ANYONE fer that matter to exist solely in space

it takes roughly a crew of a few thousand astro projectional geeks on the planet earth to constantly problem solve daily on how to keep those who choose to venture into the planet FRIDGIA and hang with Princess AURA alive... 

plus they're totally micro managed from sunrise to sunset with their daily life consist'n basically of bounce'n around like helium balloons and forced to participate in a strict exercise routine confined to a small space to keep their bones from turn'n into gristle with only ritualistic birdy baths every few months if they're lucky...

and their beddy bye time is akin to sleep'n in a float'n coffin and don't even get me started on their sacrificial meatloaf to the float'n porcelain god

the longest any human that has actually lived in outer space was astronut

SCOTT KELLY who went on 4 space missions and once spent a complete year of his life float'n around like PRINCE VULTAN on a wasted mission basically sett'n up high speed internet fer the rural pervies so they wouldn't have to deal with dial up ever again (allegedly!) 

and decided after a year to pack up his space suit and clean out his locker at NASA so he could enjoy his metamucil martini's...Murder She Wrote marathons and flip thru his AARP catalog in peace!

neither BRANSON or BEZOS are doin A-N-Y-T-H-I-N-G to advance that

leisurely JETSONS life style in space that we’ve all dreamt of since the 1960's...this was nothin' more than a dick-swing'n contest that YOU the consumers paid for in full fer the past 30...they will fortunately perish along with the rest of the pitiful pensioners on the planet EARTH...completely without take'n a single penny with them and completely alone!

so in conclusion...you got no one to point fingers at and bitch about all this

 wasted billions except yer damn self...KAPEESH! if you don't want billionaires blow'n their billions YOU gave them single-handedly on some ego ridden space race piss'n contest...

get yer lazy dilapidated A double snakes off the damn davenport and BUY LOCAL!

now GET OFF MY DRESS!

in memoriam!

it's unfortunately inevitable that someday we all will eventually be take'n

our final joy ride in the back seat of some souped up lime green caddy

BUTT...(yes there always is one)

even though sometimes death becomes her...

sometimes...well...it just don't...dammit!

and yer left sport'n raccoon eyes with yer do shaped like a brown football helmet in front of yer support ho's!

much like most of my feel'ns to give'n a rat's ass about gett'n romantically 

involved with any sane non heterosexual (i much prefer the broken and battered and those that feel they never mattered type...speak'n of course with no one in particular at this present time)...we've buried alot of very important things this past decade as a whole

not too forget about the 31 lives lost over this past weekend in El Paso and Dayton
(but more on that next week)

from the wonderful world of teleo-vision...

we lost a housewife in denial...a  neurotic newscaster...and an angel!

to the musical geniuses addicted to more than just their career...

from the man who spun around like a record...the hottest butt shaker in the biz...to the lil purple paisley man himself

outside of all these familiar famous faces in the entertainment fields...

this new crop of kittens simply known as the millennial's instant oatmeal generation...who've never broken a damn sweat to get what they wanted...thanx to touch screens and downloadable apps...cuz of their parents inability to cope with their unfortunate mistakes from a drunken nite years earlier...we've lost sooo much more than just mortal stars...many many others things have fall'n off the face of the earth since this new crop has taken over...

the main one bein' the art of verbal communicado...

our ancestors spent thousands of years design'n and perfect'n the verbiage system into many many different flavors of communication...

unfortunately...thanx to devices like the internet...call wait'n...text'n...

Helen Keller...

George Orwell's prophecy is turn'n the entire planet into a huge pile of non verbal communicative paranoid mashed potatoes and take'n the brain work outta bein' human...fuck'n up millions of years of social interaction

i believe it was Weeza said it best when she so eloquently said...

"i smiled at the son-of-a-bitch before i could help myself"

there was no misinterpretation to be had then at all...but technology has turned societies up and come'n majority into lobotomized bags of unfeel'n 

selfie-ish fucktwats by turn'n this lost art into a communicational cluster fuck of alphabetically coded messages like LMAO...LOL...TTYL...STFU...WTF? 

that their ancestors are left to try and decode without have'n a brain aneurysm

but also join'n them in the graveyard are all those rental exotic tapes

along with their plugged in pimp machine that you used til they were busted and broken...murdered by those who were too unkind to rewind...so very very young...i hope yer happy!

1-900-phone sex lines that once helped pave the careers of many...

stay at home mom's and just as many unattractive out-of-shape homo's who built their self esteem up...

 by cut-n-paste'n some tall dark built grecian piece of man flap as their own...under the pseudo name of  Dirk or Dusty...or Mr.Pus...have been replaced by...

but on the flip side...

self esteem sessions and prozac prescriptions have gone thru the roof

hot spots like B. Dalton and Borders bookstores...

that once housed the latest and greatest novels by Jackie Collins and Suzanne Somers...

 which also had their very own built in meat-n-greet conventions thru-out the midwest and beyond...are no longer with us...

thanx to amazon.com...and e-readers...now all those married suburbanites have been forced to find online love that is not to be spoken of at the dinner table and forced to travel half way across town in the middle of a cold rainy nite to some desert highway rest stop to get any relief without repercussion

the hypnotize'n sounds of the constant click click click of  the cd cases...

 as you flipped thru row after row to find the latest or yer greatest musical act with KRYSTAL KLEER crystal clear quality...cover art and lyric sheets that taught you the correct pronunciations of the songs...so you didn't look like a total ass on karaoke nite...have been die'n a very slow miserable death...

thanx to these guys

what once gave us gen X'ers and those before us...

headaches after spend'n endless hours flipp'n thru the yellow pages (and i don't mean the ones that some wino wee'd on in an alleyway) try'n to decide which categories like pizza or porn were listed under...is no longer with us...

thanx to these bitches take'n the brain power outta the new kittens on the block

remember when the only way to pay yer mortgage or telephone/cable

 bills...or that babysitter off with hush money...so you could get off...just to swing yer hammer and show yer almighty power if they pissed you off by place'n a stop payment on their ass...or that elderly incontinent parent marinate'n in tea rose perfume who sent in a yearly donation of $2 to whatever charity of choice...think'n she was pay'n fer their front row seats into the kingdom of Casper...

 have been all but replaced as a form of payment by these bastards or online bill pay

carpal tunnel was all the rage thru-out the ages...

thanx to all those hand written notes that once showed you cared enough to send yer deepest most inner thoughts by putt'n pen to paper and spend'n yer pocket change to purchase a stamp to prove you really cared...whether it was regard'n love...sympathy or just a simple "how ya been?"

have been totally replaced by free phony forwarded messages of hope or regret on FB by people who've post the pass'n of a loved one...only to figer out if the 1000 likes were because they're sad or glad fer yer lose...and wrongcards.com 

so in conclusion kittens...though i may be age'n myself by complain'n...

about "how it used to be in the good ol' days"...by capture'n those kodak moments to last ferever...or til his cheat'n ass breaks yer heart and you rip him outta yers ferever...there are some advantages to try'n on these new generational gap jeans...especially when it comes to photoshop...

cuz now i now can always look like a fetus in a wig (or no wig at all) with Paulina Porizkova smackers and porcelain skin...without all those chemically enhanced injectibles!

now get off my dress!