NEVER NEVERLAND NONSENSE

picture it kittens...the year was the 1600's and oh what time it was to be

A-L-I-V-E....a long haired sour pussed smarty britches named ISAAC NEWTON earned street cred fer publish'n his book formulate'n the theory of gravity by gett'n knocked in the noggin by a macintosh fall'n from a tree branch above while frolick'n with his "special friend" (allegedly...don't go call'n yer state prepresentatives...do yer own research) by 1705 QUEEN ANNE of ENGLAND would knight him and SIR ISAAC decided to take his cousin Engelbert as his plus 1 to the queen's ball so you come to yer own conclusions on that one (hey...prove me wrong?)

a porgy prolific prodigian ivory tickler and ELTON JOHN's dopplegager

was born to Johann Ambrosius Bach and Maria Elisabeth Lammerhirt...by the 18th century JOHANN JR would pull a CHER all together by dropp'n his first and middle names only sign'n autographed 20x24 paintin's backstage as BACH as he raced up the charts with delightful ditty's like "MASS in B MINOR" "BRANDENBURG CONCERTOS" and the ever popular "THE WELL-TEMPERED CLAVIER" that made all the pleasant peasants go apeshit and faint in the aisles at his many concert appearances

and thanx to Massachusetts bein put on the map by JUDGE DANFORTH 

who popularized the 1st and the biggest outdoor fish fry ever fer all the town folk to witness durin' the Salem Witch trials though unfortunately would come to an abrupt end in the summer of 1693 much to the chagrin of the puritan right

BUTT it ain't all that bad in the end

some 400 years later...the SALEM WITCH TRIALS would get a rebrand'n

in a form simply called the "DON'T SAY GAY" bill thanx in part to this closeted sour pussed anal leakage and drag race enthusiast JOE HARDING who introduced the bill to the sunshine states legislation to stop the supposed insidious indoctrination of kinderbeaners thru third grade of which lipstick...base and eye shadow that goes best with their granimals

which unfortunately will most likely be signed into law by florida's very own medically lobotomized and diabolically unfuckable blow fish RON DESANTIS 

which would open the flood gates and give parents the right to micro manage what their kids are taught in school while they juggle their alone time between the gardener and/or babysitter also would give them the right to have a lil pow wow fer a lil cash cow with JUDGE JUDY if ANY teacher teaches their kids how to so much as stitch a lovely holiday table cloth with match'n napkins outta their dads old sadie hawkins gown

of course this only means that we can expect to hear an onslaught of the

  latest insane singles "jesus christ...you hit the wrong hole...again!" the low ball ballad of "puritanical pussy" and TGIF's boot scoot'n boogie dance floor crazy "2 holes in my bedsheets means it's gonna be alright" from every MAGA's fav-o-rotted screech'n cuntagious pterodactyl soccer mom C.L.A.P'n duo THE INGROWN CUNT HAIRS

thankfully brave students like senior JACK PETOCZ organized a massive 

student walk out at his school recently over this obvious draconian scare tactical witch trial which would only be used as a spring board to further strip non heterosexual students of their rights and their history beyond the 3rd grade that most likely would force them to get their education from gloryholes to GRINDR or hammers to Home Depot parades

and to comic queen staples like the incomparable MISS COCO PERU who couldn't be compromised or bought out by the almighty benjamin's by pass'n on perform'n fer the house of mouse after all that she's fought for durin' her illustrious career after the house of mouse who still funded the bill before come'n out publicly against it to save face and a large walk out 

to all those CASPER fear'n tin foiled cap spray can huff'n soprano howl'n

burnt water chef boyardee graduated battery acid big gulp drinkers and their worn out fried out type 1 diabetic scrunchied masengil meat flapp'n models LISTEN UP cuz i'm only gonna say this once fer the millionth time...

there is ALWAYS GONNA BE peter pansies...

tulip sniffers light in the loafers...

hot flash'n tool'n fools or any other ABCXYZPDQ+ out there all because of YOU so you have no one to blame BUT YERSELF...YOU PUT US TOGETHER by doin the hokie pokie with yer vomitusly sick perversional games

while burn'n out yer record player with the smooth cool style'ns of one BURT BACHARACH as a backdrop to yer retched fornications!

how is this insane barbaric bullshit law any different than IRAQ from push'n yer kids off some hypothetical rooftop?

non heterosexuals' WILL NOT FORCE yer child to do A-N-Y-T-H-I-N-G 

they don't want to do however they will teach them nothing short of how to make you look yer very best at bridge nite with the Bronstein's...color code yer livin' room arrangements that best compliments yer blouse all while create'n a beautifully bountiful chilled dinner delight fer yer party guests

so in the end...why not try redirect'n yer angry where it belongs kittens

 since you non homosexuals have cornered the market fer years with yer tv personalities...politicians...and pontiffs!

don't even get me started on IDAHO and TEXASSES!

with that in mind i must finally bid ado kittens...cuz it's hammer time!

now GET OFF MY DRESS!

I DID IT MY WAY

well i was all set to vomit out another  hard hitt'n holiglazed masterpiece 

about my fav-o-rit top 10 inches...par doan me...i mean my fav-o-rit top 10 incentives to make it a very happy snappy hanuqwanza XXXmas fer all the single desperado's out there beat'n their meat like a prisoner in San Quinton’s solitary confinement (especially this unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe) however...as i sat down at the keyboard at my local uptown library...the fuck'n computer rejected my password advances (apparently some fuck'n lezbitronic squirrel decided to try and eat out the internet cables and turned into a crispy critter...ALLEGEDLY!) so instead...enjoy this deliciously dirty diabetic ditty from CHUNKY PAM and s few of my past XXXplorations

this is a real addiction...confusion and cheap tattoos

a princess...a car thief and a lost shoe

loneliness...laughter...lust the promise of pain

Judas in blue jeans tell me your name

~ Boy George

there has never been a person that has resonated with me more...thru melodramatic melodies...about the hopeless art of the instant oatmeal hook-up's betta than the BOY has himself 

we...and i'm speak'n only to the non heterosexual has-beens and has-been-nots out there...all desperately yearn'n to be temporarily tingled at some point thru-out their journey on this planet...just like all those other

"unnatural types" that choose to be non homosexual...not to be confused with the "wasbians" = used to be carpet cleaners but could never fully commit to shop classes

or the "unfageluffigus's" = used to have style and savoir flair but ended up with a prolapsed ass due to one too many "mission impossibles" in their unmentionables durin' the 80's

i can recall back in my days...before that dreaded trilogy of terror...simply known as my smart phone that my dumb ass is STILL try'na figer out after 5 1/2 years of marriage...that the only means of communicado with someone to help scratch that friday nite "itch" (that you hoped didn't need a spermicidal application and a razor) was accomplished by 3 huge ways

1. BARE ASS BEACH....

located just a handful of very large red rover red rover steps away from the U of M...along the mighty Mississip..where my most preciously precocious Petrinella (and her minions) would indoctrinate me to the ways of the instantaneous gratifications under the pale moon light...(that is...if you fergot to bring yer chloroform spray with you to the bar)

this was accomplished by walk'n down a long stairway to a sandy hell in the middle of the nite...to the desolate open beach down below...like we were castaways that just got off the SS Minnow on a 30 minute tour to titillation town...

eventually we would be greeted by a plethora of unimpose'n figures emerge'n from the behind the bushes along the shore line in the still of some random hot summer nite...sadly though...it felt more like a scene that was straight outta the night of the living dead

and thanx to Peetrinella's infectious cackle echo'n amongst the seediness of the even'n...this avenue was unfortunately no longer a viable option for me to participate in future out'ins

2. BLOW JOB VALLEY...

you heard me right kittens....what is now a sprawl'n 4 story high subsidized house'n complex...that is home to many air bnb affiliates on the edge of the downtown Minne-Apple area in Loring park...was once a spacious and vacant park'n lot...

much like this anti everything human repuglicuntess fuckery

that housed many suburbian commuters by day however would turn into a circus arena of salacious sidewinders by sunset...where you would learn yer ABC's of the STD's that were readily available on any given nite...that me and many of my inept bar "friends" would participate in back in the early 90's...

corralled to the center of the park'n lot like a no-gag-reflexed cattle of cock...while the outside perimeter of perverseness would unilaterally and literally drive around us in a complete circle...single file...no more than 2-5 mph...as not to avoid any missed "purchases"...since they had no luck at the side walk sale outside the saloon...cuz this would be their last chance to get down anyone's pants...

 before they would have to head back home to their pabst blue ribbon past out on their unpaid ashley furniture...while we [the inept] waited anxiously fer the high beams to hit us from behind from some hot high roller that would flag us down and open us up like a lotus flower...though i would never be so lucky

after months of study'n the "art of the sale"...i would finally get a high beam i could call my very own...that would sadly only lead to the 1st...

10 minute feature film as a solo performer i would ever perform in...but incidentally...would be where i also successfully negotiated my 1st apartment deal on my very own in the uptown area 10 years later...

and sometimes...fer a lil extra street cred (*wink*wink*)...you (insert ME here) would be summoned by a "famous" heavy hitter on some seedy saturday nite in '94 that wanted you to "hit them" into next week...before they would have to take that long uncomfortable walk down that forced aisle of misery

BUTT...wait there's more

3. PHONE LINES...

i've always had an over active imagination when it came to plausible pleasures...but i always kept my expectations exceptionally low...so they'd be alot easier to attain that way...cuz i knew i would end up in pictures...

i just wasn't expect'n this was how it would all come to be...but i learned how to turn a tragic embarrassment into an animalistic ambush...the mo's went ape shit when i used my mug shot on gofuckyerself.com or somethin' like that...fer a short period of time

of course...i blame it on Jeff Stryker flicks and shows like OZ that made all those horny toads think'n they've hit the jack-off jackpot with a real life felon...and who was i to disappoint their twisted fantasy...but before the world of visual stimulation's were at my finger tips...

i would spend endless hours fall'n asleep on the free side of the phone lines with my over active imagination work'n in over drive...just to find that perfect mistake that i would eventually regret 10 minutes later (Peetrinella tried to curb my "addicktion" once...too many times...to no avail of course)

 cuz i was hooked like Steve Erwin to a stingray
(hey...hush the fuck up...more than enough time has passed!)

on any given day or nite...the typical gentleman caller genital wart...who was between the ages of 25 and dirt...6ft tall or above...with bushels of brunette follicles as thick as the amazon forest strategically placed thru-out their sculpted body...that consisted of 180 pds of pure 100% grade A chemically enhanced beef...enclosed in a 48 inch chest and a 32 inch waist...with enough italian sausage to wreck yer windpipe...

regrettably...reality would eventually set in when we met up...and just my luck...it rarely ever panned out the way i was expect'n it to...99 times outta 100 it was usually somethin' i personally would'a never ordered off the menu (if we had had today's technological advances back then)...only cuz they always ended up invert'n the numbers...and use'n the metric system where it mattered the most

so one particular restless early morn'n nite that i can recall...i met some casual caller (who i hoped was accurately describe'n themselves from the pre-approved menu fer a change) that was just a stone's throw away from my back yard (that is....if i was a hungarian shot putter) so i decided to meet him half way...why not!

and once again...my over active imagination waves were way outta sync...but instead of ridicule'n his very existence and turn'n back home alone...which was a perfectly shallow...yet viable...option i...like many others in my position...have used many a times before...

i just didn't wanna end up as some damn moo juice model in yer kids cafeteria

so i decided to look fer an easy exit stragedy...but most regrettably & very tragically (FER ME) when i invited him into my shitbox...ummm...i mean my quaint lil shitbox...i heard a sudden thud on my entrance floor as he...

turned to shut my front door...i couldn't believe it...his left sleeve went limp on me as he turned back around...well that's cuz HIS FUCK'N LEFT ARM FELL OFF...SERIOUSLY!...and this was not just any old hand...like i know yer think'n lincoln...NO...this was a hook hand!...A HOOK HAND!...i nervously waited fer his response before i would give my constrained retort..."oh...did i ferget to tell you that i had a prosthetic arm?"...hmmmm?...i hesitated fer just a mere moment before i could come up with the only non judgmental serial killer response..."yea...sorry sailor...but i've already done my charitable act fer the year...plus...i don't want you to be late to yer peter pan rehearsal" 

see you in salutations...now GET OFF MY DRESS!