Saturday, April 19, 2014

MOMMY, Where Do Baby Zombies Come From?.... 4./19/14

The nineteenth century was a golden age of Zombie-ism. They had other names for it then, at least in America and Canada. Called them 'ghouls' ... 'graveyard fiends'... ' really hungry, ugly scuzzy people.'... 'turd breaths.'... I'm talking about the less formal parts of the nineteenth century. But substance trumps labels... And when it comes to substance, zombies are full of it. But unlike vampires, they do poop on a more or less regular basis. In Tang Dynasty China, dried zombie spoor was a delicacy... No, wait, not a delicacy... an aphrodisiac. I believe they snorted it. The zombies of Quimoy and Maitzu made quite a bundle in the trade.

Oh, I can't do this. Sorry. Too tired.  Slept like four hours or less the last two nights. Literally micro-sleeping as we speak (snort... you say something?)......<~~~ see those dots? They represent fourteen minutes spent staring at this screen, listening to 'market reports' on some PBS station. Moss Hart was a poor kid from the Bronx who made it big on Broadway and married Kitty Carlisle too... And Saturday night is Brit-com night. Plus decoy carving is being passed on to a new generation.. 

OK, enough of that. Gotta go to sleep a bit earlier, 'cause Saturday Night Live is on tomorrow night and I'm hoping to see myself as host. They don't tell you ahead of time. You gotta tune in. That way it's like a big TV surprise party. 

Lorne Michaels is the Aaron Spelling of American Comedy. Nobody laughs unless he says so. And eleven and a half hours (at least) of weekly programming wafts out of his laboratories.... Not counting the reruns of 30 ROC, which I think are on endless loop...Oooh! and PARKS AND RECREATION, which is STILL in first run. 

><> ><> ><> ><> ><> ><> ~~~~~~ see them fish?... They represent a catatonic interlude spent listening to a dirge-like violin solo on some non-Lorne TV.

I'm gonna drink diet decafe orange iced tea (right from the plastic jug) and go to sleep (yawn... stretch... sigh) 

I love the shore, but I hate saltwater taffy (although the rest of the family reveres it)

Good night. that's it.

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