Tuesday, October 16, 2007


I surmise what doctors precribe will cure me so I won't have to go unwillingly. I'll try this drug, I'll buy that dope, hope what the doc prescribed will do the trick and I'll no longer be sick .Or I'll die and never know the reason why.

If I go I hope some lucky guy gets my parts so he'll not have to part with life so soon and be able to party-on to a hundred three. In that way we'll share my longevity equally.

Used to be when a body died it was buried with everything inside. In the future If the dead avoided cremation when they returned via reincarnation they'd be pumping blood trough a monkey's veins with the help of a heart of an ape who escaped from a zoo, whose toes and nose and bones from erogenous zones could become the gourmet hit of B'wnnaland.

The body would include a part from this, a part from that---eyes from a cat, skin on the face from the place where a pig once sat, an esophagus from a guy named Gus, a funny bone from a laughing hyena named Lena, DNA from a bowl of alphabet soup made from a hen in a coop where roosters crow and geese go poop.

The goulash of glands would be close relations from pappas and mammals, camels that hump and owls in Whose Hoo, gnus who make news and crocodiles in style wearing alligator shoes.

In a frenetic dance the genetics of elephants and ants would romance in your pants. All this would happen in the advanced age of surgery just around the CORONER.

That's how it will be. You'll pick your toes, your teeth, your nose and the surgical pro with needle and thread will transplant it from the dead and the parts will live on after you are gone, Something to look forward to when you are no longer a part of you.


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