Inkwell: Authors and Artists

    
aving a good hair day. You don't need all those fancy hair products,
just a good br-
  

    
a and matching long-line girdle, and then you're all s-
  

    
lithery, but what does it matter?  After all, you can still e-
  

    
at out at the Truth or Dare Cafe even if you're just renting the
truth.  Sh-
  

    
iatsu massage is also available if you're feeling st-
  

    
ar-struck and you need to unwind a bit.  But be careful around the ma-
  

    
estro in the corner.  The one with the ec-
  

    
onomics degree --- he sometimes fails to distinguish between music and mo-
  

    
bilization of the masses.  If he leaps up singing the Internationale,
be ready to am-
  

    
putate your own left arm, just below the el-
  

    
ephant in the living room. Otherwise, et-
  

    
ernal weeping and gnashing of teeth may await us because the im-
  

    
portant thing, as the president has demonstrated, is NEVER ADMIT YOU W-
  

    
ere aware of anything or anybody! Just play dumb, which should be e-
  

    
levated to a mantra I say!  What maestro?  What weeping?  What om-  
  

    
niscient Ominous Seapods song are you gonna quote today, my fri-
  

    

ed friend?  I know them all, but some of the lyrics are hard to tr-
  

    
ifle with when traveling through time and spa-
  

    
tio-temporal  pretzels into dimensions beyond the fab four, en-
  

    
crusted like a Faberge eggman on the shoulder of some g-
  

    

reasy haired reprobate.

Regardless, we must carry our burdens until it's time to lay them do-
  

    
wop, do-wopedly along this golden st-
  

    
ick, here, in the ground. Looking at them, they pale by comparison with the
brudens of earlier years. They're all g-
  

    
rilled greasy peanut butter with bacon, but good! Too bad th-
  

    
eir beef liver-rolls were too moldy, but one may use their spores to
produce a fine Jarlsberg chee-