CAXAMBAS, FL
Welcome to another exclusive interview with the man behind the poems you and we all love to recite when the moon is just right and the cows are no longer our spleens, but rather our knees.
We are talking about the one, the only, Whacky Head
George Washington (GW): "So how did you get into poetry?"
Whacky Head (WH): "Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow"
GW: "Any childhood trauma that contributes to your art?"
WH: "My favorite name is Whacky Head! Hey read this book to me!"
***Reading "Old Hat New Hat" By Stan and Jan Berenstain***
GW: "What is your favorite color"
WH: "Uhh, green"
GW: "Are you green with envy?"
WH: "I like green and blue?"
GW: "Hey Whacky Head, why do you like playing with those toys so much?"
WH: "Because I want to!"
GW: "Who is your role model?"
WH: "Mommy, what's a role model in baseball?"
GW: "Do you have diabetes?"
WH: "Nope, not yeeeet"
GW: "Is it hard for you to go out in public because you are so famous? Or do you just dress up in a chicken and you're fine?"
WH: "Yeah, I do"
GW: "You do what?"
WH: "I just do that"
GW: "Where is your favorite chicken costume store?"
WH: "Uhhh, a rooster."
GW: "What is your dream life?"
WH: "I love playing with Chloe and Gayland."
GW: "If there was one thing if you could do to fix the world, what would it be?"
WH: "I do not know what I'm doing right now!"
GW: "How do you overcome writer's block?"
WH: "I just use daddy to help me"
Let's end with a poem:
"How to be good"
Clean up
Uhh, breakfast
I'm trying to build these right now
I just do not hit people
That's the end of the story
I love mommy
Sunday, September 11, 2016
Home is where the spleen is
COWSBELL, MT
Lots of cows around here during this season of misfortune. Cows have replaced spleens. In all of us. People have been going to the doctors asking for X rays, and they've been finding baby cow bells where their spleens should be. And milk cartoons, chocolate milk especially. Dr. Michigan says that you should dig by that tree to find your soul. There is a hole right there, just make sure the dirt stays where all the dirt is. This and only this is the way to get your spleen back. The spleen is the tupperware container of the soul, filled with one third of a cup of apple juice if you are lucky. If you are unlucky, that's where the cows come in.
Snack Time! I'll be back in a second. BARK BARK!
Dang it, I've turned into a dog again and it's really hard to type when you have flippers.tgrtiyk6dhbsrzynjsdliohvdi daidbva caiasia faiasiysai dgkbfak
I'm MELTING BACK INTO A JELLY fish.
Blooop bloop
Have I ever told you the story of my cousin? He's the heart scratcher. Been doing this for 24 years, I reckon. If you draw a picture of a heart, he'll find it and scratch it. Free of charge, no questions asked you say? Of course we'll be back by Sunday, who wouldn't want a free tuna sandwhich when the moon is a full as a sunburned tomato. Do you even understand what I'm trying to say? Do you? Where is it, the Mayan calendar that you made out of papaya rinds and the sweet songs of old diabetic women?
One last go, the poetry SMASH:
One two three four five six seven eight nine ten!
Haha I was just counting
one two three four five six seven eight nine ten, eleven twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen
By JT!
Because I wanted to be a whacker and I want to whack my head. Then I said "Nothing!" But while it come it hurted. Then it wasn't hurting anymore. That's the end of the story.
By, Eyedidd
Lots of cows around here during this season of misfortune. Cows have replaced spleens. In all of us. People have been going to the doctors asking for X rays, and they've been finding baby cow bells where their spleens should be. And milk cartoons, chocolate milk especially. Dr. Michigan says that you should dig by that tree to find your soul. There is a hole right there, just make sure the dirt stays where all the dirt is. This and only this is the way to get your spleen back. The spleen is the tupperware container of the soul, filled with one third of a cup of apple juice if you are lucky. If you are unlucky, that's where the cows come in.
Snack Time! I'll be back in a second. BARK BARK!
Dang it, I've turned into a dog again and it's really hard to type when you have flippers.tgrtiyk6dhbsrzynjsdliohvdi daidbva caiasia faiasiysai dgkbfak
I'm MELTING BACK INTO A JELLY fish.
Blooop bloop
Have I ever told you the story of my cousin? He's the heart scratcher. Been doing this for 24 years, I reckon. If you draw a picture of a heart, he'll find it and scratch it. Free of charge, no questions asked you say? Of course we'll be back by Sunday, who wouldn't want a free tuna sandwhich when the moon is a full as a sunburned tomato. Do you even understand what I'm trying to say? Do you? Where is it, the Mayan calendar that you made out of papaya rinds and the sweet songs of old diabetic women?
One last go, the poetry SMASH:
One two three four five six seven eight nine ten!
Haha I was just counting
one two three four five six seven eight nine ten, eleven twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen
By JT!
Because I wanted to be a whacker and I want to whack my head. Then I said "Nothing!" But while it come it hurted. Then it wasn't hurting anymore. That's the end of the story.
By, Eyedidd
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