The Wacky Adventures Of Abraham Lincoln 48


God looked at his To Do list and scratched his head.
“Who’s Lydia Bixby?” he asked his secretary-angel.
“She’s the woman who lost all of her sons in the war in America,” said the secretary-angel.
“Well, that sucks,” said God. “Any particular reason why she’s on my To Do list?”
“Abe prayed up a request,” said the secretary-angel. “Something about assuage anguish of bereavement somethingorother.”
“Can’t the man just send flowers like everyone else?” said God. “I’m a busy guy. I don’t have time for this.”
“Fruit basket?” asked the secretary-angel.
“Sure,” said God. “And send a puppy dog, too.”

Sitting on the Job


Okay, we’ve got a first effort by Scot Ellison here… check it out:

When I was 16, I worked as a machinist.
One day I lost concentration, pushed the wrong lever and my thumb was badly
cut. My parents were visiting far away relatives, when the doctor called
for permission to stitch up my thumb.
A week later, as they came in the house, mom and dad were surprised to see
me comfortably seated. It took a moment to figure out that the doctor had
been misunderstood. My folks had been telling and retelling the story of
how I got caught in a machine and that I needed twenty stitches in my bum!

Very cool. I’ve been wanting to do a series of stories about things that happened in my life, but I’ll leave that to Scot.
Things about his life, not mine.
Anyway, if y’all want to record and post stories here, let me know and I’ll get them up here for all to enjoy. And don’t worry about shamelessly pimping your own sites and podcasts… it’s actually welcome here.

The Muse


Bob and Shirley sat at the dinner table. Silence was their guest, as it had been for the past few days.
“Any ideas today?” asked Bob.
“None,” said Shirley.
Bob went into the basement, turned on the light, and walked over to a metal box under the stairs.
“Modular Unit Suggestion Engine,” mumbled Bob. “Here’s one: ‘start working.'”
The MUSE sat silently.
Bob kicked it. “Any bright ideas?”
Still nothing.
Bob shrugged, walked over to his workbench, and started to build a birdhouse out of his ribcage.
No blueprints, either. The idea just came to him out of the blue.



Andrew Ian Dodge berates a user…

Are you user or friend
or someone on whom I can depend
Are we disposable
Merely to be acceptable?
When will you learn
You’ll end up in a berm
Pissed away all your mates
Left with only those you hate
Do you treat all like this
Or Am I just a special case
Are we there for you to diss
Just hurdles in the race
When will you learn
Pissed away all your mates
Left with only those you hate
We exist for your pleasure
It’s all about how we measure
Babe you don’t burn bridges
You fucking daisy-cutter em’

I’ll take two daisycutters, please.



Andrew Ian Dodge looks at an upcoming Muslim rally in London with apprehension…

Londoners look to Feb 18th with fear and dread; wondering if they are safe to tread… in their city. We look back at the rally last Friday and the message we saw; wondering if those Muslims marching this time will take them to heart. Calling for all our deaths and torture does not encourage faith in their wanting to be good neighbours. Moderates using Nazi propaganda to rant against Jews does not inspire either. Will next week help convince us that British Muslims can live in a civilised society or will it be more of the same? It’s their call.

As the waves get bigger, watch for the hurricane to make landfall.



Andrew Ian Dodge gets a bit dark here for a bit…

Darkness comes for me, trying to envelope me
To take me away, into a black void
Foreboding images cloud my mind, never leaving me behind
A gathering doom mine alone,
Such constant gathering drone
It stalks me night & day, No matter where I may be
Ever closer all the time, mocking me with doom
This fate is mine alone, everywhere I roam
Will follow me always, until it catches me some day
To the hills in darkness, I will be led,
Matching my reality, with all my mental calamity
To the hills in darkness, I will be led

Wow. I’m so uplifted and happy now!



Andrew Ian Dodge continues the beat poetry stories today with Mauled

You had to get involved
No matter what the cost
Who cares if feelings get mauled?
You don’t care about that
You think you got what you wanted
But in the end it’s a chalice
A poisoned one at that
One that will tear you apart
When it all goes to hell
You will plead you didn’t know
But ultimately you will pay
What goes around, comes around
Fate has a bite ready for thee
I don’t hate you my friend
I pity your ultimate fate
Everyone will soon learn the truth
And you’ll be the one to get burned

I’ll remember this one.