WOLVES IN CHEAP TV MORALS

the earliest i can ever recall when i was forced into believe'n that the 

regurgitated cultism of CASPER crusade'n (otherwise known to most as the fear monger'n catholicism cult) was in the mid 1970's when i used to watch the quirky open-minded yet unabashed FATHER MULCAHY from the 4077 infantry on the popular war series M*A*S*H that was time stamped durin' the Korean War (1950-1953) which ran fer 11 brilliantly funny and tragic seasons

by 1983 i was forced to leave my newly acquired public grade school 

gang of goofballs from the 6th grade at Madison behind and join the cult of CASPER crusader's at COTTER high (which some were barely tolerable at the very least) though a majority of them include'n teachers like Mrs. Blank...Mr. Lisowski…Mr. O'Brien and Principal Bork made my academic studies unbearably miserable fer 4 treacherous years that were all but fergotten about by the time i had a break-down and was able to continue my public education once again by 11th grade until i called it quits by years end fer G.E.D county (honorable mention to those that actually made it comfortably bearable at Cotter were Miss Kentiz..Mrs. Piper...Diane Drake and Sister Jan)

though i had become an alter boy by the mid 1980's in hopes to follow in  

the fictional footsteps of Father Mulcahy some day that my aunt Ellen jokingly wanted me to...ironically it was CULTURE CLUB's hit "THE WAR SONG" that made me give the middle finger to that brainwashed cult i was sucked into all together when the priest at our parish told me i was not to "idolize people like him" (and yes that was a direct quote kittens) after show'n him my photo book of pics i cut out and saved from Star Hits magazine when he stopped over at our house one afternoon

the 1st televangelists that caught my eye in the 80's were the lashes of lady

 preacher from International Falls, MN and her hedonistic hubby who formed tv's 1st popular christian broadcast series in the mid 70's with THE PTL CLUB which was short i believe fer "THE PRETTY TALENTED LIARS CLUB" (though some say technically it was known as the PRAISE THE LORD CLUB) it had changed names a couple times thru-out it's 14 years of robb'n the poorly warped and uneducated to make them rich beyond their beliefs...starr'n JIM and TAMMY FAYE BAKER from 1974 til 1987 

TAMMY FAYE would rock the broadcasters across the country by cause'n 

quite a controversy by putt'n a bee in the bonnet amongst the religious relics even before that alzheimered jellybean prez would bother acknowledge'n the crisis...by bein' the 1st advocate fer AIDS awareness interview'n a cock suck'n christian pastor live'n with the dreaded disease back in 1985

of course not surprise'nly her hubby JIM would eventually get busted with his rosary beads down around JESSICA HAHN's ankles...pay'n her off with $279k in hush money from the PTL collection plate before gett'n busted fer cook'n the books and receive'n an 8 year vaca in the federal po-po

the lobotomized flock couldn't escape the gravitational pull of chaucerian 

fraudster...the diabetic demon with gastronomic glandular issues JERRY FALWELL...who had built the biblical barracks fer future CASPER cultists called Liberty University milk’n millions since the 70's desperately try’n to influence the masses on their asses with his apocalyptic anal-warted agenda...by the 90's he singled out UK's children's program the TELLETUBBIES...

specifically the absurdly ambiguousness character TINKY WINKY with their eggplant fur...wi-fi head piece and of course the magic red prada purse and their fascination of skipp'n thru the tulips in a tutu which was obviously just a ploy try'n to indoctrinate male tikes into wear'n tiara's and the art of anal bead'n

by sept 2001 he pointed his blood sausaged fingers on the cock-suckers...

muffin divers...abortionists...feminists and the pagans of Pensacola and everywhere else around the country fer the attacks on the World Trade Center...luckily sanity prevailed and that glutenous gargoyle finally choked on his seethin' spite at his desk in 2007 after begg'n his CASPER fer 20 more years to complete his basturdization of the fabled short stories book most call the bible

though the most colorful cracked out CASPER character was a CROTCH

i'm so sorry...i mean JAN CROUCH with her lavender do jacked up to jesus...JAN and her hubby PAUL co-founded the TBN channel (Total Bullshit Network known by most viewers i guess as the Trinity Broadcast Network...sue me!) with friends JIM AND TAMMY BAKKER in 1974 (though they left by 1975) JAN enjoyed milk'n the meek and mundane followers fer over 30 years

til she was busted by her granddaughter in 2012 who worked at the network fer cash'n in on the collection plate to fund her lavish lifestyle and that enormous wig collection of hers…unfortunately that same year another granddaughter who was 13 at the time sued her granny when JAN was try'na cover-up her granddaughter's rape by a TBN employee blame'n it all on the granddaughter herself. (ain't she a peach!) JAN luckily suffered a massive stroke in may of 2016 and would kick up daises 6 days later at 77

after TAMMY FAYE dropped her hubby fer infidelity and fraud and also

her last name...TAMMY FAYE would rejoice and reinvent herself from phony tv evangelist to LGBTXYZPDQ advocate and marry her 2nd husband ROE RESSNER (who incidentally worked as a builder fer her defunked HERITAGE USA theme park) and enjoyed a resurrection of her very own...

host'n her talk show with LGBTXYZPDQ alumni JIM J BULLOCK on "THE JIM J and TAMMY FAYE SHOW" that only ran one season in 1996 though TAMMY FAYE would make many many other television appearances on numerous talk shows to reality tv thru-out the 90’s

by year 2000...TAMMY FAYE was the subject of a fabulous documentary 

commentated by "SUPERMODEL (you better work)" sensation RUPAUL in "THE EYE"S OF TAMMY FAYE" which documented the rise and fall of her ministry and her faith...TAMMY FAYE would put on her last set of lashes in july of 2007 at 65

by 2021 TAMMY FAYE would be immortalized on the screen once again

with her life turned into a marvelous major motion picture of the same name as her documentary 21 years earlier which won JESSICA CHASTAIN's portrayal of the mascara maven an oscar in 2022

after take'n over where his dad left off years ago JERRY FALWELL JR

would be instrumental in the rise of the mentally deranged orange anal wart weaponize'n the country by donate'n millions to his presidency and lock'n up the regurgitated right wing religious vote...unfortunately fer JR...he would fall far from grace simply by his greedy texts...

where the hypocrisy of his ministry teach'ns is on display in it's finest in this well documented HULU original "GOD FORBID" A MUST SEE! (hack into yer neighbors account if you have to…seriously)

though they weren't necessarily poach'n preachers...they were very vocal

about their faith on their snorefest series that aired on the USA network fer 9 vomitous seasons...til the heads of the household were busted fer (wait fer it...you guessed it) conspiracy to commit a $30 million fraud from the banks and winn'n a total of 19 years behind bars and their accountant gett'n a respectable 3 years...but don't fret my pious pets...

yer fav-o-rit faithless fraudsters will be back in a new series this summer...and i am sure i'll tune in

how beyond brain dead to you have to be to believe that tv theocracy is

nothing more than a religious rip-off hypocrisy?

and the church wonders why their collection plates and pews are dry'n up 

in the end…believe what you wanna believe in (i personally don't give a fiddler's fuck) IT'S YER CHOICE! i myself believe in the praise and practice of MADONNISM which will incidentally be on full glorious display start'n this july…get yer tickets here fer the most masterful mystical musical icon of our time

now GET OFF MY DRESS!

WASTE MANAGEMENT pt. 2

fer the most part...i know i am a very pleasantly punctual unintentionally

internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe...FER THE MOST PART...however there have been instances in the past that i was forced to take off my sash and take out the trash if you tried cross'n-my-heart-bra attitude by gett'n on my A double snakes force'n the lil green monster live'n in the bowels of my belly to rear it's pretty ugly lil head and put a boot in yer ass!

if you can't catch my drift...get a ticket to the catch up train here with pt. 1

so last we left off...i was not too damn happy with this whole process of the nurse navigate'n thru my nostrils...mine'n fer covid gold of which i'm happy to report she never struck it rich...now all that was left was fer me to pick up the meds i needed to clean out my excremental curly slide at my neighborhood Walgreen's and with all the horror stories i've heard about this process from this point forward...lemme tell ya kittens…this was no Divine intervention in the slightest though there is a story here!

as i placed my order with the pharmacist...i was politely told to just have 

a lil meander around the store fer about 15 minutes in order to get my order together so like Helen Keller at a brothel...i aimlessly ignored everyone and bumped into everything and i gotta tell you though i rarely frequent a Walgreen's anymore just cuz they ain't the same ever since they rid their stores of all those (bunny ears) back rooms (bunny ears) the old schoolers used to rave about

glance'n down the endless make-up aisle...i got a double take from the

stalk'n stockman...WAIT...is "stock person" the correct terminology i should be use'n in this cancel culture era these days? eh fuck it...this is my damn story...don't like it? call yer senator

BUTT anyways...

as i rummaged thru the prophylactics and all the latest absorbent styles from the Paris fashion of incontinence undergarments collection

cuz i was told i needed to invest in some from a friend who'd already gone thru the process 4 times before...i noticed the stock'n stalker give'n me the wonky eye halfway down the aisle so i stopped fer a mere moment to scan fer any signs of sociably acceptable life and it turns out apparently he was the mayor of desperadoville cuz it was as if my nether region was the millennium falcon and his eyes were some sorta love starved tractor beam from his death stare cuz this millennial couldn't keep his eyes off my falcon

after the proverbial pick-up lineage that is usually reserved fer those

beyond hideously dreadful 3-minute date sessions yer forced to engage in after the age of 40 if yer still single and way too burnt out to mingle...thing is...though he was pleasantly painful to pretend we would eventually get a house in the hamptons and adopt mongolian whistle children...i fake checked my cell imply'n my prescription was up since his time to impress me was up like 2.5 minutes ago

once i had picked up and paid fer my prescription...i decided to gorge on 

my last meal fer the next 24 hours...which consisted of a side salad with no sides...a couple of celery strips...a half cherry flavored tic tac....and a small can of coconut regret...by 6 pm that even'n i had commenced with the colostomitic ritual which included 4 miniature unchocolated laxatives followed up an hour later by some crystallized concoction mixed in lukewarm water that tasted pretty much like the glisten'n sweat off an old man's scrotum of which i was to have 8 8 oz glasses continually every 10 minutes

i can't even begin to tell you how every glass after the last tasted more

and more like Ernest Borgnine's fermented scrotum...nevertheless i made it to glass #8 though i swore the grim reaper had marinated his fuck'n balls in my last cup nonetheless i had survived thankfully without turn'n it into some sorta blockbustered Linda Blair production (though i will freely admit...i wanted to do it 7 outta the 8 glasses i hadda consume)

my mentor rang me roughly 10 minutes after my last glass to see how i

was doin and taunted me as to what i was in for in the next hour or so however i informed said taunterer outside of feel'n a bit like a bloated water buffalo in a beaded balenciaga ball gown two sizes too small and maybe like i had just pulled into the gas station she warned me not to brush it off as an unleaded episode...and as soon as my mentor hung up and i'm talk'n like nanoseconds here kittens...

JESUS FUCK'N CHRIST ON A CRUSTY GRAHAM CRACKER CRUST

it was as if Moses was try'n part my sphincter walls... 

and opened the gastronomical gates of hell cuz it was finally time to donate the sacrificial meatloaf to the porcelain god though this was more like a fecal flood...

it would flow uncontrollably off and on unfortunately fer the next 2 hours til i was finally able to count the shitty sheep around midnite only to be woken suddenly at 3am to rinse and repeat the entire process til the 5 o'clock hour where i hadda finish off the entire 8oz's of 8 glasses of old man scrotum once again...each worse than the next til it would be my exploratory debut of my anal slide that i begged fer Scorsese to direct...

unfortunately he was unavailable due to covid restrictions i was told

i had asked my driver to arrive promptly at 9:15 that morn'n as i DID NOT

wanna arrive late fer my red carpet debut and like clock work he showed up on time...though i thought i had ordered a limo...he instead showed up in his pinto blow-about...i whined "driver...why couldn't you bring a bigger car?" he said "don't bitch...i could'a brought the trans-am ma'am...now kindly buckle-up and shut yer trap you barren old hag!"

we arrived 10 minutes early...unbeknownst to me unfortunately...it was at 

the wrong fuck'n location as i was informed by the nurse on duty...instead of bein 10 minutes early i was now in fact 30 minutes late....AAAAAARRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH!

from the covid test to the old man scrotal medication to the meatloaf 

mayhem i had endured fer roughly the past 10 plus hours...there was

absofuckinglutely no way in H-E-double hockey stix that i was about to go thru this insanely destructive ego blow'n process again...so my driver general lee'd his A double snakes to the correct location in a matter of minutes (so glad he wore his concrete slippers this particular morn'n)

as i then hadda plead with nurse ratchet inside to just let me complete the process...fortunately she could feel the desperation in my unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe eyes and made me strip down to my bday suit as she scrolled thru a bunch of yes/no questions

once in my drab gaultier gown with my fresh nubile backside exposed to 

the world she ordered me on the table and to flip on my left side even though i had explained to her i generally photograph much better on my right...however...this was of no importance to her...all she wanted was my hand to insert the sleepy time meds since i had refused to participate in the view'n of my entrails after i was rudely told there would be no open bar at my lil soiree and of course it would take multiple jabs til she got the right vein...

even though i may have come off a bit vain in the moment...after i got one look at dr. dreamcakes as he started to explain the process...i was drift'n off into dreamland fer the next 20 minutes i was told

once i had awoken...it was all like a fuzzy dream...except i was not over 

any sorta damn delusional rainbow in a pitiful pinafore dress and you and you and you were most definitely not there...however thankfully i no longer felt like a bloated water buffalo... 

and finally felt able enough to fit in those lemon meringue chino's i planned on purchase'n the second i got home from the makers of DAMN TIGHT JEANS

minutes later after i was fully aware of my cognitive senses...Dr. McHotty

came inside...me and my cleaned out colon's recovery room to inform us that we got an A+ from the procedure and that neither of us hadda come see him fer another 10 years (but i said "doctor...i can't wait that long...i've had blue balls before...it ain't pretty") slightly grinn'n at my request know'n i was come'n off some pretty nifty meds he called my driver and as we took that long leisurely stroll down the corridor to the front doors and bidd'n auf wiedersehe to one another...

i was relieved to have the entire disenchant'n process behind my behind at last and am completely grateful fer all the staff involved in my lil production up to and include'n my studiously patient driver who hadda put up with all my belligerence

have'n said that...when its yer time fer this most invasive embarass'n

 procedure...may i offer you this simple yet effective advice...#1 make sure to invest in some heavy duty poopourri spray...apple spice is nice (just say'n)

and #2 make sure yer systems are C-O-M-P-L-E-T-E-L-Y cleaned of #2 or you will have to repeat it all over again!

i only ask of the professional medical field this one very simple question...

if we can send humans into outer space...without turn'n em into fish food (hey cancel culture...SUCK IT! it was funny fer a 14 year old at the time who didn't care about anything except how many neon rubber bracelets they could cover their arms with and how totally politically cool the "THE WAR SONG" video by Culture Club was) 

consider Ishtar an utterly complete cinematic eye sore from the movie industry...

and culinary experts make'n us once believe that drown'n velvetta squares...pimento stuffed green olives with celery chunks doin back strokes in a lime jell-o mold all while bein' guarded by tomato wedges sunbath'n on a lettuce leaf as a viable holiday dessert...then why...OH WHY...

can't you create that old man scrotum shit you force us to drink...outta everyone's fav-o-rit flavored pop rocks? ummmm...perhaps this will be completed before my next visit in 10 yrs...PERHAPS?

now GET OFF MY DRESS!