this caught the eye when i was flying to new orleans a while ago. maybe since it was a redeye and i was afraid to get drunk as piss on the plane and Then get drunk as piss morning time in nola is why this sung to mine eyeballs through the peephole… maybe.
this is from the synagogue ramp in nola.
i think it’s a picture of ryan mcwirter as a lightbulb.
and the horse’s name is Gamble, and rightly so seeings how it was a definite crapshoot trying to do any thing with him. i seen him bite bitches, buck fat dudes, chase pigs, get chased by cats. i know he doesn’t care for weed, and i’m not sure if he liked the acid. but he’s old now, and we just let him shit and eat his heart out, in any order he chooses…
this birthday wish list writin mofo went and had hisself (and his lovely slaughter mama) another braggin right. and Henry, this little guy here gets to help show off they new stoke. a brand new bald mini human by the name of Olive has come water birthin out like a sumbitch. congrats, mike dick. i hope it wasn’t like that video clip of the dating show girl done gone diarrhea in the hot tub boof! dating in hot tubs and childbirth is stress on levels parallel i guess…
was that wallride of tmo’s a make? i know they ran it…
pancakes. the tent cities finally moved on…
nothin but love fo ya poak chop!
oh fortuna…
was in new orleans during the beginning of the year, but Ignatius wasn’t.
what i speak of is the bronze of Ignatius J. Reilly, one of the beautiful characters from the book Confederacy of Dunces, by John Kennedy Toole. book published after his suicide, cult classic, pulitzer prize, all that. a couple heads tried to steal this masterpiece for some reason or other, but i suppose didn’t factor in the bronze part.they only made it a few feet away, and gave up hope. Ignatius is actually just in storage behind the frosted windows, awaiting fat tuesday to go back up. so i’ll see you soon, Ignatius.
“When a true genius appears in the world, you may know him by this sign, that the dunces are all in confederacy against him.” -jonathan swift
this is what i see thru my new glasses since bloglifin’ is so dang lucrative.
see you on the private jet, whores!
you’ll know the one. it costs 50 cents in front of the dollar store on mission st…
looky here…
she said that this was a cover up of something worse? don’t get me wrong now. i ain’t got the bestest tattoos mine self, but just how many cover up ideas were rolled round the idea pile before jordan came to be the cream on top? and when?
and is he wearing sweatpants (under his shorts) to boot? fuck it, i dig it.
