Wednesday, February 24, 2010

This Has Gone Far Enough


Take this all down. This is identity theft. You're unpatriotic. You can't abuse a man's name like this. American Decadents is nothing but a sham.

I don't care if your parents own Pringles. Your lawyers can't help you out of this.

Do the right thing.


Skinny Telegram


I invented the next flarf yesterday and you weren’t in it. I believe you to be the result of huffing certain volatile inhalants. Oven cleaner and Aqua Net. It must be lonely inside those balloons. No one wants to read a blog written inside a balloon. No one wants to read. Did I mention that your hair looks funny? You smell like Detroit, which is Pittsburgh on a bender. The next time you want a manifesto, go to Detroit. Eat something rusty.

~ Jordan

I Already Did


You're fat. That's your fault.


The World is fat. That's your fault.


You belong to Mission Impossible. You eat glass art works. Your smile ruins the fat.


Handjob? Hand me a heart. I don't want a job.

I jobbed a robber. Now I'm a thief. A skinny blogger.

Give me your skin, you minx.


Tuesday, February 23, 2010

The Invisible Handjob


You talk as if Thunder Cats aren't caviar.
As if dementia weren't decadent.

I dismantled your computer and found New York City
buzzing in the motherboard.
I autopsied your cadaver and found Parisian alleys
in your neurofibrillary tangles.

You're a dandy and a faker,
more regal than my Top Hat Voice.

Why don't you give a handjob to your minx petticoat
and put your money where my asshole is?



To The New Movement

Dear Jordan,

Caviar and cadavers...stupid.
New York and France...stupid.

Why don't you just try to be the next flarf?
Why not aspire to all the depth of a Thunder Cats marathon?

There was already an American Decadence
(not decadents...stupid), in the 1920's, in the late 1800's,
in a time of uprising decadence,
not in this new era of American decay.

Face it, America and France are
in a state of late dementia. Their demanic people are
a farce, a joke, or worse,
American. There's no money,
no hope, just booze.

Get rich and get famous
and then what? Retire?
Your as clever as an a-hole
the only movement you're producing
is in your bowels.

All you do is consume your own fecal falsities.