I say pot-ate-toe you say get off me, you fat bastard so tune in next week same time, same station and discover . . .when you do THAT my lips quiver. Impromptu readings today revealed how different we are but also astoundingly clone-like identical even more so. Sashaying on the covid stage seems alot like Dancing w/ the Stars. If you're like me who is bi-nervosa, as in loving the buzz from Mamacita and going halfway towards El-Padre's sobriety to make it through the first 75... then you can say that you've got it all.

Don't ask for the price 'cause I already sold out
My place has long been filled in the lineup of the believers
They don't even realize I was there
With nose hairs dabbed with the stench of injustice
Lost in the cloud of can-I-bless-this
Committed in a selective kinda way
Words were cheap then
They saved me for today
I still believe but it's layered with splendor
Bar floor discos replaced by ballroom
The sack slapping kind
Sophistication's not ancillary anymore
Primetime is now a window across the sky
Unafraid of when the credits roll
Because this show is ours
Judge not lest ye find out
All you need is dynamite
Save the confetti for Super Sunday
We've got today covered
From July 2012