In the world we saw ourselves, nightmares wrapped in sweet dreams, a time when we were happy, we hardly knew ourselves.

Dreamers climbing down from their highest peak, into madness they do creep.

Where in highland do you sleep and dream of many things, followers do creep.

We don’t know where we’re going and God doesn’t even knows where we went, silence in the grave, down in sands of time, drifting through a life, good and bad combined into a strange song, we hardly knew ourselves when rainbows came to fall.

 

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dude-wait-what-stoned-kitty-pedro-8122726Today seems like a good day to write about something positive, to skip over such icky subjects like homeless people, Political crap and other misfits trying to rule the world, natural disasters at a seemingly increasing level but we all know that climate change is a myth, and other crap hitting the media door right now.

So today, my friends, I decided to write about happy butterflies but apparently Google thinks happy butterflies equals stoned kitties and why not.

I wish I was stoned right now.

It would help in my writing, like:

FOLLOWERS, TO THE READY, LET US DEFEND OUR DEFENSELESS POSITIONS ON THINGS, WE ARE YOUR NIGHTMARE DRESSED IN PRETTY DREAMS, TO ARMS! TO ARMS!!

I don’t really feel like writing poetry or a serious posts, though, those do get hits from my general followers and Google searchers alike.

Hi Google searchers, how are you?

Fine?

Awesome!! Me too!!!

“Really?”

Yes I am!! I overdosed my diet Coke with many shots of energy stuff at the soda fountain and am feeling awesome.

“Awesome!”

Course, I made the mistake of turning over to the news and well, my buzz is still going, thank you very much!!!

So anyways, glad you’re still breathing and I am too!!!

Good night and have a better tomorrow, your friend,

ME!

In Hell we build, to death we give in dishonor.

Universal Date:10,500,000 DC(During Crisis)
Location: Earth Reflection – After Mission 2.7 – Earth is filled with slutty dolphins

Captain D’Xalare – Mission Commander Reporting –

The Earth was dead, the only thing left, humanity, the parasite, still suckling on its mother’s tits angrily, ¬†still draining its life as she laid dead on the blackness of the universe.

Humanity, an evil race, killing each other in the name of love and peace, over such silly details as the color of their skin or their worship of an imaginary deity, some even worshiped the same God but their words were translated differently.

Worthless reasons to kill each other, the Vogons only kill over the huckleberry found on this otherwise worthless planet.

We, the True Race, found this planet on a routine mission to study its true ruling specie, the pigeon when we discovered this lovely treat, its jam being a elixir of sexual delight.

The inferior of our species, the Moron, tried to mate with the berry directly staining their antenna blue.

Stupid Morons.

We, the Galaxon, ate of the berry and was amazed, delighted, then aroused and mated right on the spot with what the “Earthlings” call a “Dolphin”.

A very wonderful trip I had to say and noted it so in my diary of said mission.

Recommendation to Counsel: I truly recommend that this planet be stripped of the wonderful berries and the dolphins be saved.

The rhinoceros and elephants of this world are a nasty breed and have been known to charge and kill other species who intend to mate with them in a peace keeping mission such as ours.

The humans of this world will enjoy the process for awhile then becomes angered in a short order.

We recommend further that the world be destroyed as it has been declared “Hostile” and therefore ready to be demolished to be replaced by an on ramp to Worm Hole 789!

 

Bear-Grandfather-Mtn-Tim-Floyd-779608

Bear was bored so today, he decided to call The President aka Donald “The Tweet” Trump, the 45th President of the United States of the Fucking America!!!

“Hello? Is this THE PREZ?”

“It sure is!!!! Who is this?”

“This is Bear!!”

10-donald-trump-debate.w750.h560.2xAfter some polite chit chat and exchanging recipes for salmon stew vs. Trump’s delicious crow pie, we began the interview with some hard hitting questions!

Bear: What inspired you to run for President?

Trump: Good question, to the meat of the issue without striking bone in the first round, waiting for the next question for the kill shot. The best!!

Well, let me reply in like by giving you the best answer ever.gop-2016-trump

The people, out there, chanting MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!! That inspired me to not only run but to win, I am the Choice that the American people made and wanted.

Bear: Actually Mr. President, you lost the popular vote and won by the Electoral vote.

Trump: FAKE NEWS! FAKE NEWS!!! I STILL WON!!! I AM THE PEOPLES’ PRESIDENT!!!! Next question!

Bear: Okay, who are your heroes, living or dead?

china_trump_trademarks_70301-jpg-f8dba_550679227a1881ca317cb1375afd41ef.nbcnews-ux-2880-1000Trump: Again, great question, thank you for this opportunity to get to the meat of the issue, to delve into my, better regions of my personality.

Bear: You’re welcome.

Trump: My heroes have always been the outsiders, the men and women who stand outside the box, draining the swamp, and keeping America great, not like that Prez Obama who, my sources say, great sources, just the best, wasn’t even born in this country, but in a place called Hawaii!!

Bear: Uhm, Hawaii is a state sir.

Trump: NO IT’S NOT!!! NO IT’S NOT!! FAKE NEWS!!! Next you’ll try to tell me New Mexico is a state!

Bear: It is.

gop-2016-trumpTrump: LIAR!!!!! LIBERAL MEDIA FRONT TRYING TO RUIN ME!!!! SECOND STRIKE!!! ONE MORE, AND YOU’RE OUTTA HERE!!!!

Bear: Okay, some people are calling you a racist ass wipe and that you should be impeached.  Your reply.

Trump: I can say I am not a racist nor an ass wipe! I pee standing up!!! My gardener happens to be colored!

Bear: Uh, think calling them “Colored” is a racist term sir,

Trump: IS NOT! IS NOT!!! FAKE NEWS!!! FAKE NEWS!! THIS INTERVIEW IS OVER!!!!

The phone went dead and Bear was left with five more questions unanswered.

  1. What kind of pie do you like?
  2. Do you like pussy cats?
  3. What color is the sky in your world?
  4. Briefs or boxers
  5. Who wrote the Book of Love?

Guess we’ll never know.

Senator Mitch McConnell apparently takes long bathroom breaks as he was unavailable every time we called him.

Stay tune next week when we interview a drunk at the bus stop we met today!!!

 

 

 

Fear and Loathing in Louisville, Kentucky

By

Jason Giecek

 

I am in the land of Ali, the birth place of Hunter S. Thompson.

I am Dr. Me to Mr. Me to my lover’s preciousness.

She hates me during those phases, here I sit in evil phase, writing about the love of spring in the summer time.

I laugh at that sentence, almost comical, making me want to carve it into my chest.

I stand in fire waiting for life, to die, to dance in star light.

She cringes from human touch, she can’t remember a time that love was real, not a barren place, didn’t have to place her hope onto the back of her baby, life was reality, not just a dream,

A hopeless nightmare….

 

 

 

Butte – A grand city of bars and prostitutes, according to a random tourist at the Safeway store.

Well okay she didn’t say grand.

I can’t say what she called Butte.

We were someplace around “The Pit” when the drugs began to take hold.

I kid.

There were no drugs, not even a we, except for my imaginary friends.

I was drinking whiskey and cokes in a room at the Motel 6 in Uptown Butte.

In a few days, I’ll be leaving Butte for the 2nd greatest city in my life, Louisville, Kentucky.

Butte is the city that made me who I am today.

A drunken writer.

I’ll miss this town.

She isn’t for everybody.

But maybe that’s what makes her so great.

She isn’t a typical tourist trap.

She ain’t no beauty but she has a huge heart and a brilliant beautiful soul.

She is pock marked hard with a long mining history.

But without Butte, a lot of “better” cities in Montana and even the USA wouldn’t even exist.

Many family fortunes would not have been gained off the backs of the Butte miners.

My grandfather being one of them miners.

He raised a family here.

His son, my dad, Rudy Giecek, saved part of Butte’s “wanted to forget” piece of history, The Dumas Brothel which he bought from the last madam, Ruby Garrett back in 1990.

He kept trying to save it till 2012 when his health finally wouldn’t let him.

Me?

I just write about her.

A lady, a tourist, came through another checker’s line at my store.

She was pissed.

“There’s nothing but bars and prostitutes in this town!!”

She had read on some website that Butte was a great town to bring kids.

She stormed out of the store yelling about giving Butte a negative review on Yelp.

I think Butte should market her bars and prostitutes.

And our casinos.

We have the best casinos.

No, I don’t know which bars have the best prostitutes.

I was once hit on at a bar by a mother of the bride to be.

We were both pretty drunk.

I almost went with her on a bar cruise but instead I stumbled off my bar stool and wandered off.

I fell into the Blacktail Creek instead.

My fiancee laughed at that story.

Butte should be marketed as a writer and artist colony.

Wander the streets and the alleys and discover the real Butte.

Its heart and soul.

Butte is a historic town.

And yes she is still rough from her years of mining.

But she will always be my city, my hometown.

I love her bars and prostitutes.

And okay, she has some pretty good people in general.

Remember to “Tap ‘er light” and see ya later Butte, I’ll be back!

I’ve always been horrible at goodbyes.

Mr. O’Mallery goes to the bar.

It has been a hard week of womanizing, drinking,fighting and some work down in the mine.

He orders a bottle of whiskey.

Irish of course.

“Mr. O’Mallery are you be drinking when your wife is at home nursing seven sick children? Ye should be ashamed!” Mrs. O’Mallery said angerily from the bar’s swinging doors, her eyes missiles.

He smiled, quickly, like a fairy tricking a saint.

“I’m just finding my spirit, love…” he said, drinking his drink.

“Ye better find your spirit quickly or ye be losing it soonly!” She growled revealing a hard round baseball bat from the pleats of her skirt.

He finished his drink quickly and left.

Mr. O’Mallery found his spirit very soon.

He was soon seen nursing seven sick children back to health.