Aug. 25, 2005

I’d like to think I look a little better with a chin-tuck or two.
These kind of people do not belong here, Hottentot or Jew.
What’ll we do? How put the screw?

There’s a plastic surgeon down Rodeo Blvd you ought to try.
We’ll create a land where lineage is pure, where once there was a sty.
An acrid smoke’ll fill the sky, though things will get better.

That mountain breeze air freshener will blow the stench away.
If tomorrow belongs to us, so does today.
Carpe diem, as the old folks used to say!

Folks won’t miss that laundry lady who waddled to the door.
Her spawn with that idiot grin will be no more.
Your nails done, Brigida will peel your skin by quarter to four.
Then out the door!