...nothing

Ugh,

I am

again

playing the writer,

poorly.

Hello,

I am an a*****e�"

a c**t really�"and I drink

often.

I hate my work, I

hate everyone’s work,

really.   

I once met a woman named

Cliché ,

she was quite the maddening

b***h.  

But, maybe it is

time

for the king’s English,

eh?

Maybe the literary world is due in for a fool

to bring reckoning to a reverent

word

or two.

Stephen King has kept the presses warm

since the seventies.

Before that, oh my

before that,    

is when America

was timeless.

Everything in humanity was changing,

it all started

with the turn on of the

twentieth-century.

Do you not feel it

again?

Ringing and gonging,

another hundred years

swinging before us

like great walls

made of

warheads.

But,

worry not,

the writers

are about to get offensive enough

to distract us all.

Don’t hate the n*****s,

hate us writers you silly

c***s.

“Honey, did you see a black couple

moved in?”

“Yeah,

pretty soon they’ll be taking over the whole

neighborhood.”

“Hey dad, why would it matter

if a black family

moved

in?  I hope they do and

bring more families neighborhood

take old man Wither’s house,

he always sprays me with

his hose.”

“Son, oh, well, it doesn’t.”

“But, you just said.”

“I know what I said, it was a joke,

people used to say that

and mean it,

so to do deal with how wrong it was

we make fun of it.”