From: James Floyd (jfloyd@airnet.net)
Date: Sat, 16 Oct 1999 09:17:20 -0400 (EDT)
Subject: Think Poop
It's about hearts and minds.
Please Gertrude, start shielding yoself! You and your body know
what to do when some greaser makes an unwanted pass. You
know that uncomfortable feeling that permeates both mind and
body when an undesirable 'comes on to you.'
You cross yo legs - yo hands and arms fold, automatically, over
your bosom and yo head turns away avoiding any possibility of
lip contact. They call this "body language." It's an universal
language, it's a way of saying a resounding, no!
Yet, sweet Gertrude, when the evil ones come for your heart and
mind, well, you seem to have lost any and all of your natural defenses.
There are no limbs with which to guard the mind. The subtle serpents
of ideological conditioning have, for too long, had 'their way' with
you and will continue to rape your poor mind until 'You' put an end
to it!
The first thing I want you to do, Gert, is cut off that damnable
television. The very next time you are sitting there poking yo mouth
with gobblie-goodies and watching their crap, I want you to equate that
position with being up by the water tank, in the woods, sitting in the
back-seat of a car with no panties on, trying to fight-off the ugliest
son of a bitch you ever dated. TV is the most repugnant suitor you'll
ever encounter, and your couch, today, is what the back-seat of a
fifty-six Chevy was a generation ago.
Be like me, my child. Why? Simply because their silly persuasions don't
work on Ole Jim. For instance, let's look at the Taco Bell commercial,
you know, that one with that Mexican-talking, hair-less, ugly, little,
bowlegged, Chihuahua dog.
This is just one example but a very good one. Somehow, only the
Almighty knows how, this vile, nasty-rat-looking animal is suppose to
make, otherwise sensible, people rush right out to their nearest squat-
and-gobble (fast-food) store, and from the hands of pimple-faced,
butt-scratching, under-paid, teen-agers, these TV, pre-programmed,
masses are to fall into a line with other zomby-like patrons and
purchase over-priced, tasteless tortoise shells.
Well Gertrude, it don't work for me. No, No! When I see this tiny-
rodent-of-a-dog I can only think of poop on the carpet, of stinking
chicken heads/feet/guts and other unmentionables which this animal
eats daily. Girl, oh dear girl, it makes me want to throw-up!
So, as the guardian of the virginity of yo mind, sweet innocent Gert,
I ask you, today, when you watch the endless talking-head pundits and
mind-raping politicians, please, please, think poop!
I remain yours in mischief and the world's only historical revisionist
with a personality and sense of humor.
Jim Floyd
185 Co. Rd. 254
Cullman, Al. 35057
.
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