Shut Up When You Talk To Me, Mr. Fancy Mouth …


To Reading Bloggy Stuff This Week …

“It Beats Writing My Own Dung – Posting Same Digital Dungery – Having To Fuss Over My Dungwich Before Dumping It Here.”

Since I’ve Involuntarily Retired From Peddling Creative Insistence – Besides, I Was Having A Hellacious Time Selling Myself On Its Existence And The Process To Execute Such Low Brow Nonsense – I’ve Devoted The 19-Minutes Of Freebie Time In My Day To Reading Others And Their Waxy Why Nots.

Just This Morning I’ve Read About A Cellphone Soaking In A Toilet (After Leaping From The Anterior Pocket Of Denim Dungarees). The Jersey Boys. The Importance Of Getting The Flu Shot. And, Other Tidy Tidbits Too Important To Remember. While I’m Not Finished Fussing Over Those Talented Folks, My Faded, Jaded Taupe Muses Suggest Otherwise And Telling Me To Shoo-Shoo.


I’d Rather Read Than Write – Fuck Than Fight (Repeat After Me) – Sleep Than Eat.

“Because Periphrastic – Circumlocution … If One Must Distill Verbose Pleonastic High Dinkery – Is Plainly Chaffing My Predisposition To Tautology. Getting My Chewsday Pre-Dawn Rash On …”

I Promise No Thesaurus Was Harmed In The Discursive Prolix Above. I Can’t Say The Same For The Alleged Gray Matter Within While Chirping This Shit Into My Espresso Cup.

Merci – No – Mercy.

Image by Валентин Симеонов from Pixabay

9 thoughts on “Shut Up When You Talk To Me, Mr. Fancy Mouth …

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