Overthunk

You know people have delivered babies in there Probably even died Yanking on the oversized roll of industrial toilet paper Dispensed across every state line Delivered by the truckers who pray for a titty flash on their way Under the auspices of Arkansas Somehow vaulted to an international comptroller of commerce Of the destinies of families, employed or forced to shop there,  Or molding the plastic dreck Americans require in some foreign land, Their necessary evil, or needed good. And on that trip Bowels working, oblivious to the outside anything You have to make that stop, not wanting to, dreading it And yet, like the world's cathedrals, it waits for you, with open arms Pure white porcelain ready to receive your most animal of offerings Whether you believe in evolution or not. The question is there, though, do you know the good news? Do you know the freedom that is ready for you, As long as you're willing to chain yourself to the one path? Unwavering, dete

It's Zappadan, that time of year between December 4 and December 21, when we gather together on the warm tendons strung between us (internets) to celebrate the life of Frank Vincent Zappa, delivered to us at precisely the right time, then taken too soon. During the summer, I purchased this poster, which to me is sublime for a number of reasons: 1. The cheap Chroma-Key? background 2. The partly dead plants 3. Those shoes, which some stylish gent would covet nowadays 4. Peter Max socks 5. The jaunty neckerchief 6. Unapologetic smoking 7. Leopard-print Speedo flocked by generously untrimmed pubes  8. The smoky, sardonic glance I'm sure there are more. Turned out, I procrastinated just long enough for the hanging up of this poster to coincide with Zappadan. Unintentional brilliance. Anyway, because it's just for me and not for the prying eyes of others, I wanted to laminate it (so I could use tape to hang it on the back of my closet door, so that I