flarf again? 4/7/2000

well i'd once saw idears. idears shit out the guts of wholesome upstanding and educated books and the like. the stink of death, heck, it was rough, i tell yeh. that's how i like them idears, though, tweedy morsels. i'd once got myself a fancy booklernin' idear once, but then i just figgered i'd show everyone how big my organ was. i can really play that thing. har har dangedy rootin tootin toodley-ooh!

see Jim over there? he'd once had himself an organ too, but he went off to that fancy school, and when he'd a-come back his cows were all a-gone and so were them horses there in that yard of his. and his goat, somebody got his goat! aw hell, somebody'd of gotten mudpie into rye some time or other, hot damn. hot idear, mudpie into rye, tweedy like booklernin, yep.

but heavens to betsy i don't trust them booklernin' types around here, and don't want know drunk fairy poets er artsy types 'round here neither. nosirreee. those types are all the same, though they might as well never confess to it, always arguin with each other, and none of 'em ever's respectin' the law 'round here. we here just lookin' for farmers, farmers of crops, and farmers of souls. that's all a plce like this can ever want, sorta like heaven as jesus would want it, i reckon. just so long as, uh, well, as i think on it, wanna buy an organ? i got one that's for sale. i don't play it much no more, never was much for it, as i reckon'. it might as well just push daisies for all i care.

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