Oddest Text Message

"Tell Mrs. Forrer she isn't getting her penguin pencil holder"

This message came to me anonymously from someone in Denver who seems to have the wrong number. Either that or I'm living an alternate life while I sleep...but mistakenly am using the same phone for both lives. I wonder if my alternative life is more interesting since I'm a message taker for unsophisticated things like penguin pencil holders. Maybe I'm more content in my other life. Maybe I share videos of cats playing with dogs. I should text back and say, "You better give Mrs. Forrer her penguin pencil holder back or I'm going to kick your ass."

But I'm afraid it will reflect badly on my alternate persona.

Oggy's Unhealthy Infatuation With The Past Still Haunts Him

Given Popcorn wrappers on unsettled nights
taken paved roads when dirt roads called
looked back on the dirt roads and wondered if
the choice was a predilection or an instinct
safer choice or possible the salvation of man?

Though the safer choice led to heartbreak and
misled destruction, humiliation and lonely roads
through political turmoil, a depressed land
people living on the garbage of divorce lawyers
the belly of the gluttonous and unsophisticated masses
expands with pompous flatulence.

Oggy is a child raising himself to be the man
who could raise a child.
But this is backwards and the accessory of a child
would not make him a man or even a belabored child.
It would merely make him en vogue with the trends
of modern superfluity. But his mistakes could be shared.
with his blighted offspring.

With no future in the growing bones of an innocent child,
Oggy clings to the past, mistakes and philosophical slights
childish upheavals, hurtful remarks take personally
sunglasses betrayed in spiteful misery.

Oggy repents.
Oggy rants.
Oggy sings.
Oggy prays.
Oggy sleeps.
Oggy ponders.
Oggy eats.
Oggy loves.
Oggy hates.
Oggy gives a Damn.

Oggy's Wounded Inner Torque Converter

Robe and Crown

We Shall Wear a Robe and Crown... The Nelons pretty much slam dunk this song. The recording I have does a better job mixing the background singers but it's evident this is the music that will usher you into heaven. It's got like five flawless key changes. I'm saving up for lessons in this style of music because it's southern gospel but basically Western without the Swing. Fast tempo to best lift up your spirits in the presence of the Lord and make you give witness and praise to the Almighty.

Firebird

I don't know why someone would own a Pontiac Firebird with 3'' of clearance under the exhaust. This bitch has been kicked around like a stripper at a Duke University keg party. It was blowing water out the tail pipe like a faucet. First one mechanic decided the heads were bad. They replaced the heads and it still blew water. So they replaced the whole block. And it still blew water out. So that mechanic has since been fired or quit and burned bridges and now we use his tools while he collects unemployment checks since there's nothing but disorder in the mechanic world.

Lava Lamp

I didn't have a lava lamp in my Greg Brady adolescence. I am from New England where you were considered a hippy if you liked The Beatles. They didn't make Red Sox Lava Lamps. But I'm digging the lava lamp now that I have a power source. From the outside my van looks like an oasis in the desert with painted gates to reveal a comforting home where gypsies play music and steal your wallet but leave you with a smile and a fortune of widsom and a

puppy.