Super Sunday Salvation: Lil' Son Jackson

Ocky Milkman
Mon Jan 31 03:56:03 EST 2000

Oh man, football, hate, big cocks, titty cheerleader, and
having it all, forever young, rich as sin, and always
winning, wanting it on the 36 yard line worse than sex,
and, yes, too too much beer AND pizza: what more could a
man ask for in one lifetime? This is America! I admit it, I
like the commercials better than the game, but who's
counting? Who was it puked on my imported custom white wool
rug? It couldn't be Woofster; I tied him to the Buick
outside before the game even began. Invite one homo to the
party and before you know it he's pulling a cellular out of
his butt to answer a call (that's San Francisco for you).

So, to make a long story short (it never is), belly
bloated, head up to spinning eyeballs in sudz, what do you
know? this and that, one minute speeding into an hour, the
sun setting, nod off sunk in the LazyBoy, wake up, take a
piss, TV still on, and there's Jack Von Impe with his foxy
wife Rexella (dig that hair!): Revelation 16:12, "All
things cometh to a cinder's end, kiss your poor ass
goodbye," but before you do send $24.95 to the JVI
Ministries, Troy, MI for the video "Final Generation,"
small price to pay for a seat on that last train to heaven,
and, yes, buy this, read that, tune in next week, logon to, & all praise to that apostle of the social
straightjacket, Jesse Helmes (he spits in the eye world
evil, the UN).

I was just about to launch myself into good Jesus'
everlasting arms, hump Moses, slaughter a lamb, buy a SUV,
but fumbling with the remote ... how did it happen? On
comes the CD player (was it God's will? the work of
aliens?), there's LIL' SON JACKSON in the speakers, Brazos
mud bottom his own, dirty and evil, lovecrazy for whiskey
and cards, asleep in piney woods. Who was that masked man?
sobered to reality, in the nick of time pulled out of TV
Time Suck, football and false gods, back to: "Rocks have
been my pillow / Gravel have been my bed."  HOME. The
world, my world, me, coming back into focus. Once again I
am reminded, I know who I am. Thank god for the blues. "You
know I ain't got no true religion / I don't want to be
baptized." Amen, amen, amen.


God made a mistake when he gave the white man a guitar.
   ---Martin Mull, picking up his guitar
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