RAVEN MACK is a mystic poet-philosopher-artist of the Greater Appalachian unorthodox tradition who publishes zines & physical books & electronic books & music & photography & digital art & just generally whatever feels necessary to survive this deluded earth thru Rojonekku Word Fighting Arts survival systems (Version 69, establish 14 Feb 1973). Comments encouraged.

Tuesday, March 22

The Doogie Howser - 03/22/11

(daily top 10/intentions for my tomorrow, but not necessarily "daily")
#1: If I win the MegaMillions, I will rent an office space in Scottsville and just sit around and write nonsense gibberish for the rest of my life. I will not try to be serious nor make impactful highly personal pieces. I will simply do what I already do, except I'll drink a lot of that fancy carbonated spring water in the green bottles. The big green bottles. #2: I meant to say "When I win the MegaMillions..." not "If I win the MegaMillions..." and I hope the lottery is not like the Great Pumpkin and I just screwed it up. #3: Of course I know the lottery is an ignorance tax, but sometimes... shit man, being smart about things gets stupid. #4: I was laying in bed reading the new Harper's magazine tonight, feeling all smart, like I was gonna go to sleep and wake up knowing mad shit. But then I got back up and ate two pork chops. #5: This was good because we left the dog outside in the rain. #6: When I win the MegaMillions, and they do that news conference thing like they always do where I'm supposed to be a long-haul trucker who goes, "I'm gonna keep working, because that's all I know how to do," I am not going to do that. I am going to say, "I will never work for this bastard society again. I am going to buy the biggest, largest guns that are legal for me to own, and put razor wire around a mountain. If the guns I am allowed to buy are not big enough to make me feel safe in this godless shameful country, then I am moving to fucking New Zealand. Fuck yall. I hope you're happy dying thinking you're free, you fucking sheep. No more questions," and then I'll push the mic away dramatically. #7: Of course, the government will double my taxes on my winnings because of this behavior, so I'll buy a whole block in D.C., tear down all the buildings, and erect a giant bronze statue of a huge box-style rental truck, with a bench beside it and bronze Timothy McVeigh sitting on the bench holding a bronze copy of the Declaration of Independence in his hand. #8: They of course won't let me do any of this with their bullshit zoning laws and all, so I'll just move to New Zealand. #9: In New Zealand, I will continue to write intensively my offbeat brand of nonsense gibberish that is sort of channeled straight from the universal heavens but also sort of just the negative effects of too many concussions and handfuls of drugs. I will also raise a lot of sheep. I definitely feel more attached to animals at this point than people. In fact, I feel bad already for calling everybody "you fucking sheep" in my post-lottery winning press conference, because that's not fair to the sheep. #10: Yes, I talk to my animals.

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