Faft Kingdom

Finality abridges all time, this moment makes no sense out of lost or dashed hopes. Marriage, rotating mind-disc carousel, overwhelming financial albatrosses! Seek HERE! A Monstrosity! The works of Schemmpe, Clown stupid. Hope! Wanderlust! Animal feedings on the prairie. I’ve been away. Whatever, etc. Let’s get down to the fugging business… but first, {{remember folks!}}, gratitude and attitude! Stop and Relax.

Just thinking about two of the most influential pieces of visual-aural insanity upon my tender meat-heart thinker! The Mighty Heroes! Diaper man was my favorite, but I was a fool. Given that, to this day i speak in baby-talk at least 50% of the time. Rope Man is incredible, and Tornado Man is just about the shit most big. Honestly, they are all incredible, and incredibly stupid and this gives me a rush of poopy! Ralph Bakshi, you bastard! Thank you! Then there is just this terrible fucking mess called Simon in the Land of Chalk Drawings. God damn it. I remember it being so surreal and on the verge of fragmentation. I just browsed some stills and the whole thing is really rather well drawn and Simon himself seems to be quite healthy. It is still amazing to anyone who wishes to obviate reality – just draw your reality and jump in! Watch out for unintended insanity but love it at the same fucking time! That’s my bucket of chum. So I love Simon but I re-envisioned it in my mind after so many years climbing vast lost plateaus. Simon had become this pulsating vibration of moving chalk line on scratched out black element moving through dream-ether never coming up to breathe. Both are exciting. Then we can start getting pissed off about Paddington Bear if we want. He was like a forgotten sick uncle living in an attic room and attended, and seen, only by a devoted and silent relative. The kind of dreams where i used to have about my dead father – suddenly remember he was still alive and had been in his bedroom for years just laying there drinking ginger ale and coming in and out of reality. Paddington Bear, while lovable, is a like a coma. We want to forget we know Paddington because he is so pointless and does absolutely nothing. I adore him though for this reason because i constantly wish I was standing in my rain slicker watching life come down instead of sitting behind my machine in the cubicle mind-box. “They” used to show this scrunchy fuck on my favorite after school program, Romper Room! When I wasn’t dosing myself with the thick depression syrup of ABC’s after school special, like the one where the schizophrenic boy deals most intimately with organges, then I was watching Romper Room and god damn Do Bee. Picture Page was Bill Cosby’s triumphant moment. His career arc’d and began to descend at this point. Though many will argue, few will win. I can’t think of Do Bee without thinking of the magical acid pen that Cosby got down with when teaching us re-educational mindlessness. Just going on this trip can make me want a Time-Cube Clock. I can’t remember anything that happened on Picture Page except the sound of that mystical bee-wand. I think it was like the soft-music station version of Clock-Work Orange re-educational films. I was always MORE ALIVE after watching Picture Page. Why so many oranges? Probably because King Farris had an incredible point about his shirt being orange. No one listened, only a few remember, and only two know the secret inside his message. Here’s some more fat dope on Cosby. Leonard Part 6 and Ghost Dad are two incredible films! It drives me crazy that people will disparage these works. It bothers me even more that Cosby himself sunk so low as to disparage LP6! Such cowardly groveling! I’m not even suggesting these films are good to get fucked up to. I’m saying they are truly mind-boggling awesomely inspired enjoyable entertainment. What is wrong with people? Are you afraid someone is going to come and cut your dick off? Strangers give each other a hand job over how great last-night’s syndicated episode of Friends was; Little boys with highly-stylized haircuts beat up other hyper-sexualized children because they aren’t deeply familiar with the Approved-For-Today cheap anime program with collectible card products. Most people won’t even choose to vote for the elected leader of their crumbling countries, but HELL NO! Not Leonard Part 6! Not Ghost Dad! All I have to say is “Possums in Piedmont!”. Why is this happening??? Probably because although Charlie Chaplin and Franz Kafka’s lives overlapped, they were the result of the rebirth of each other. Buster Keaton ate Harpo Marx whole and regurgitated Groucho’s mustache grease. This was put into a hidden chamber for future use and only I have the map… or a portion of it anyway! Oh yeah, then I have to tell you the story of how “Relax. You’ll Survive” became my mantra after a parking-lot incident where I was a complete asshole!