Super Sunday Salvation: Lil' Son Jackson

cookieholley cookieholley@mcsi.net
Mon Jan 31 05:31:14 EST 2000


Sounds like bad drugs to me!  If I was you, next time I saw that cat, I'd
kick his azz!!!!!      :-D

Man, you don't have any business around any more
football...............Didn't you hear Hugh? You don't roll in the
grass......you graze in it.



-----Original Message-----
From: Ocky Milkman <borrisbatanov@YAHOO.COM>
To: BLUES-L@LISTSERV.BROWN.EDU <BLUES-L@LISTSERV.BROWN.EDU>
Date: Monday, January 31, 2000 1:00 AM
Subject: Super Sunday Salvation: Lil' Son Jackson


>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
>www.jvim.com, & 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?
>TEXAS BLUES: THE GOLD STAR SESSIONS, and my ass IS saved,
>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.
>
>om
>
>
>=====
>God made a mistake when he gave the white man a guitar.
>   ---Martin Mull, picking up his guitar
>__________________________________________________
>Do You Yahoo!?
>Talk to your friends online with Yahoo! Messenger.
>http://im.yahoo.com
>



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