Sunday, August 5, 2012

As-Seen-On-TV Metaphysical Products

Part One:  The Heaven Replacement Blanket and The Poetic Face Extinguisher

Take all the sloth shit, throw in banana peels, coffee grinds, plumstones, handcrushed toads, 37 slugs, 5 candelabra-singed death's head moths, 19 pounds of deer entrails, 16 vat-grown mouse ears, 2 pounds of chewed Juicy Fruit gum, and 3 quarts of lemon-infused vulture will have, in the mere span of 4 years, the only earth from which the lichen commonly known as the "Heaven Replacement Blanket" can grow.

The Heaven Replacement Blanket is a soft, natural, non-carcinogenic blanket which can be fondled in the hand, like silly putty or Sunbeam bread, until it is rolled up into a tiny, portable ball easily carried within one's purse, trouser pocket, messenger bag or slightly inflamed nostril. At night, the ball can be unfolded with a series of precise breath-maneuvers and genuflections to one's own chosen secular deity. The Heaven Replacement Blanket stretches out under the stars, bringing the comfort of Heaven down to here, this earth, where you are, where you need it now. Not only does the Heaven Replacement Blanket have a NASA-patented vacuum-chamois lining which wholly absorbs and dissipates all unwanted smells of flatulence, but, when left out in the sun, a complex Johnson & Johnson patented nano-module, through a photosynthesis catalyst, emits the smell of lavender and pulled-pork sandwiches.

Now then, if the Heaven Replacement Blanket intrigues you still, all we have to do is grab a drink/coffee sometime! If not, then I can tell you about my new (patent-pending) Poetic Face Extinguisher--Here's the tagline to bait you:

Tired of smoldering eyes haunting your rickety safety door? Experience burning
In the immediate symbolic space you imagine just behind your own features?
Is your face itself a screen going up in colored flames?

Now you can put out that painfully lit-up gaze with the Poetic Face Extinguisher.
Revolutionary breakthroughs in the world of Face Control Technology have applied
Particle-collision methods and models to the notoriously thorny science of Face Management.

So, when might you be free this week to grab a drink and hear all about these new revolutionary products I've invented?

Part Two: Found Objects

Cut off your own fucking head with a scimitar of smog!
You craigslist gold motherfucker
would you like a fuckin free
cute bankteller cheapass Dum Dum dumb sucker?

...So what if there was a fuckin malfunction
in the scrambled up-
link telemmetry!

Can you put enough nutella on this spiritual nothing yoga meditate toast to make it edible, huh???!

So we sailed into the sun until we found a sea of cheese. I was poor, a dirt great banality in white. Shit got hurled into the marketplace. I cut my thumb on my own wankwhittled cock and bled all over your lox & bagels. I am so sorry. I will wipe my hands with colored chalk over in the left-hand corner with the large waffle of cobwebs. I shit gas-geraniums onto a thumb of wankwhittled cock. My bled hands don't like your fuckin sorry-ass cornered bagel of a T-Shirt. I got better things to do. Like parking my chalk-thumb into your rescued animal water lines!

Sean Hannity went all sleepy, a tremor of dominion folding a usurped grudge like a cheap crepe. I was writing speech in silence, legs tapered candle-straight under the shade of God's dormant and venerably vellum palm. The rooms I had recently inhabited fell away horselike, bit by bit, the sadly ready pages of my mysteriously legended paths.

"I have eaten a grotesque # of mixed salted nuts today," I wrote. "What's more, I am beginning to suspect myself of a mental derangement rooted in a pre-existing genetic condition. In short, I sweat like a pig who feeds on habaneras and has incurable anxiety about the size of his pig penis. I am afraid of walking now and feel yea verily homicidal, especially outside of my own climate control rent control apt. Locomotion only increases my chances of slicking myself with sweat and being seen slick with sweat by all those whom I wish to murder, that is all those who are unslick with sweat but slickly sly their judge-eyes at me for being slick mysteriously maybe-biologically with sweat." Sean is snoring out a veneration of hate under the flowering dogwood shading the Judas window of the stout courthouse. I still hear it like the bronze clangor of shadow-capital rising in tremors to yoke the silence to the dominion of tapering sight.

No comments:

Post a Comment