Parties, Boards, And Dogs

May 1, 2020 Diary entry: Hey, I’ve only got a moment, I just stepped out of the party that’s taking place this evening, it’s really loud in there, we are drinking new wine, we’re drinking the new wine as if it will never run out, not really, somebody found some old beer out in the shed and that’s what we have tonight, it’s a bit skunky but it’s wet, some of our guests here are more than skunky, so it all evens out, the decimal level in there is deafening, my ears sound like morning church bells on a special holiday that the whole town has to know about for some reason, I don’t know why they have to ring those bells anyway, maybe they are trying to raise the dead, all I know is, when our parties get a bit loud, the city circulates another petition, that’s why we can no longer hold our 4H pig rodeos like in the old days when parties were real events that weren’t forgotten until the next one rolled around, we were defendants in a sensational trial that mesmerized an entire county like a hypnotist’s pendulumming watch mesmerizes an easy subject who is an idiot to begin with, they say you can’t lie under oath, well we won’t fall for that trick again, several members of our little group are ex 4Her’s, hardened veterans of the early Pig Wars back in oh six when the most spirited pig-riding competition ever, took place, and the county women’s club tried to shut us down and have the whole place burned and the land salted, geez, one little party and the whole world hates you, people just don’t party these days like they used to, what has happened to our populace, what has been done to them, they once were all limber young willow branches that bent and whipped up fun, now they are as kiln dried boards, all stacked and packed, all cut to the same exact dimensions, the people of the world are all dead dried-out wooden boards that have been nailed into a hideous house of horror that encloses their group mind into some ugly thing that they can’t seem to escape or break out of, and they are trying to drag us inside with them, they don’t like outsiders who are still growing like river oaks that will never allow themselves to be cut down and sawed into dimensional lumber by sadistic men who whose only desire is to own them on their own terms and use them simply as merchandise to sell to amateur home renovators who don’t know a ball peen hammer from a ball earth, who will not measure carefully, and they will cut them short, then cut them short again, then fasten the pieces of a once glorious tree into some hideous patchwork of confusion in which they dwell as if everything was, in fact, clear, well, the fact is, you are as clear as the squid stew you slurp up like a dog slurps up his own vomit, anyway, I think I’ll head back in to the party, they’re calling for the first Wiener Dog Dance Contest contestants, I don’t want to miss any of it, one of the tall skinny people with big ears always wins, but we will still all be in there trying our best, well, this is Paulie, barking out a loud love to his loved ones, and growling a low snarling “Go to hell” for the rest of you, shalom..


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