work in progress of a second zombies ate my neighbors shirt design.
This is Knowledge of the ultimate void. Deth eternal. Like seeing the latest Nintendo newsletter on LSD at the gates of dis, and it’s like you can’t wait to get your hands on that game, but in that moment you realize that all of that nostalgic yearning is just the syrup sickening the metabolism of this decline narrative you’ve written for yourself about how it’ll never get better and all those dogs on TV are still gonna get beat up and thrown out in boxes on the highway (IN THE ARMS OF AN ANGEL BITCHES,) and Freddie Mercury still died of aids, so you don’t want to do anything.
“Parents, why won’t they shut up? Parent’s they’re so fucked up.They treat me like a fool They take me for a fool. Parents…”
“BUT COME ON DO YOU WANNA LIVE FOR EVER BABY??” says a cybernetic Bob Hope to the pulsating mass on the deck of the ship made out of the clones of the bones of Kim Kardashian.
“FUCK YEAH!!” the dirty throng clamors back, like a chorus of boiling lobsters.
Then Bob reveals his true form and flutters off on giant leathery wings.
And it all fades to neon black.
Last night I had a dream that I was with Ronald Reagan hanging out with Clement Greenberg doing a paint by numbers and eating jelly beans, it was 1983. We saw some pigeons and Reagan started going on an on to the pigeon about dignity, and asked him why he insisted on eating someone else’s old french fires out of the trashcan and if he even knew that he could fly. Then the pigeons found some cigarettes and cheap beer and had a ton of kids they couldn’t afford, so they started working in a factory that manufactured oil pipeline valves, and Ronald Reagan liked them a lot more and called them the back bone of America’s working class and said they were laying the foundations for America’s true innovators by working their hands to the bone. Clem said they were all a bunch of louts either way. I knew it was a dream because no matter how many jelly beans Ronald Reagan ate, the jar would never empty. No matter how many he trickled down to the pigeons.
“Jesus freaks out in the street
Handing tickets out for God
Turning back she just laughs
The boulevard is not that bad”
Hold me closer Tony Danza Tiny Dancer.
