fRiEdd ricE and adamSE's RIBS

"THE MOST SERIOUS THING IN THE WORLD IS A SENSE OF HUMOR- ALSO THE MOST
DANGEROUS ONE.  WHERE WOULD BRANDO BE WITHOUT HIS SENSE OF REFINED HUMOR"

"VISPA IS FOR VIPERS"  -JOE McCATHTHY ALIAS JONATHAN BILLET

Chances Are

"Chances Are"

If the boss calls you a moron, pretend you are one because you probably are.  That's not to say you can't start a business like he did.  You have to start with the people who can't afford the clothes they're wearing.  Sell on an installment plan but don't charge them unless they are a few months delinquent on payment.  Then and only then, repossess their clothing.  Remember to charge them only what they can afford.  If they can afford a million, charge them a million.  Remember that a million to a billionaire is like a dollar to a penniless person.  So be smart like a robbin' hood.  Even if you go broke, wasn't it worth the gamble?  In high finance, anything’s worth a shot.  If you fail, you can always start anew.  It's always a pleasure of mine to give my clients advice, provided they pay a "premium price."  In the business world, you must treat your pennies as though they were dollars.  A billion pennies is like a million dollars.  Only don't bet that those bank trucks contain pennies.  The fact is that billions are like the pennies you see rolled into stacks of hundreds to the banks.  Who is the bank?  Why, you of course!  You and me together, my good brothers, can break the banks.  Nobody will be the wiser.  Our salaries will spin out of all proportion while the bums we were eat crumbs of bread, and that's no crap.  Everybody's got to eat after all.  Why not open a food store next???  You start by operating a small, overpriced grocery store, with little or no overhead.  You start the penny collecting business again.  Soon you own 12 supermarkets to middle class, upper middle class, and upper, upper, middle class.  You sell out to a higher-class chain of supermarkets and coin the phrase, "Supermarket Kingpin."  My advice to those = who don't want to go broke is stay with your union leaders.  Always know whom your dealing with, and seek inside advice.  Follow them, should heaven turn to hell for them and it won't for you.  Remember that only union members can buy quality merchandise.  However, always remember to stay out of union business, for it made our country the great place it is to live in.  Don't grow so old as to be suckered on a sour deal.  Remember the old days.  If it's good enough to be true, it is true.  Do on to others as you would have them do onto you.  Always be true to your children's, children's, children.

By Jonathan Billet

On A Crooked Day in April's Freeze's, Smelly Breezes That Will Cause Deep Sneezes.

World's Great Man

"WORLD’S GREAT MAN"

WELL MAYBE HE WASN'T THE GREATEST MAN IN THE WORLD, BUT HE PUT UP

A PRETTY GOOD FIGHT!  STINKY BILLET SAYS THERE'S A PRETTY GOOD CHANCE OF RAIN TOMORROW.  HE TRIED E-MAILING YOU THE DETAILS IN "CHANCES ARE."  HE WAS NEVER VERY GOOD WHEN IT CAME TIME FOR MATHEMATICS ANYHOW.  REMEMBER HOW HE TOLD YOU ABOUT HIS RAINY DAYS AT THE LAZY, LOUSED UP, LIBRARY?  B4 THERE WERE INTERNET BASES AND THE WAY HE THOUGHT NAFTA WOULD LOUSE UP THE COUNTRY?  NOW HE'S SWEARING IF THINGS GET REALLY BAD, THE TEAMSTERS MAY FUCK UP THE PORTS OF NO RETURN?  WELL, YOU CAN'T LOSE WITH LOSERS - UNLESS YOU HAPPEN TO BE AMONG THE VERY FEW WHO ARE.  

LOVE, A LOST STRANGER NAMED STINKY WHO'S GOT ITCHY EYEBALLS AND SMELLY TOES.  SWEARS THEY'LL GET THEIRS YET!  NEEDLES KILL.

Watercolors' Brothers

"Watercolors' Brothers"

Many centuries have passed since you last cast your first spell on me.  I am split in two over you.  Psychosis osmosis mitosis of hypnotic trances.  Were those stares or merely glances?  You wear sunglasses that I can't see out of. Our love will smell like the scented fragrance from your body's sweet perfume.  A giant harvest moon lights us in the dark.  We never wake up from our dreams.  Jars are full of crystal jade stars.  Crying and flying – loving, then dying.  Dreams are made for lovers.
The winter mistletoes blow our minds’ noses.  Words never spoken cannot be broken.  Love is like a psychotic narcotic.  We can't explain it.  I mean, we can't even explain the things that happen to us in our lives.  You tattoo my heart with watercolors’ lovers and even some of your brothers.  In a pun, you paint my morning sun black and full of despair just for fun.  Ms. Moranbendito, the guardian archangels look over you for me in heaven.

J. Billet

4 U

"4 U"

Paintings are a tropical treat and so is all music, especially speech.  I can hear their beauty.
Cultures are also tropical treats like the Cuban song - "A Laughing Gas."  Nature's beautiful, even in Winter's tropical treat.  All people are tropical music, and so is air and the universe. A lovely one is the island Gauguin painted along with his walls.  Food certainly has its own unique tropical flavors.

Sunday hides from the rest of the days in the week.  All the other days of the week are hidden too.  A pear tastes like an orange to a fish and looks like one to a dog.  We have our own peculiar tastes like they do.  Just a part of the beautiful, luscious world in which we live.  Even a wooden chair has legs with which it stands on.

I like writing poetry on my walls and also drawing on them.  I can see people painting their artwork on the streets.  Painters paint our world while birds sing their songs.

J. Billet

Stars Yellow Night

"Stars Yellow Night"

Want to read her.

She's got music coming from her ears and air breathing heavily through her nose.

Takes off her clothes.

A cute little mouth that tastes like hot cinnamon brown chai lattes.

Her fleshy breasts intoxicate me.

When we make love, I feel stuck between Saturn's rainbow's hues.

She is the muse.

She holds me tight and rocks me up and down, back and forth, left to right,
right to left, inside out, outside in, backside out, and outside in.

Nothing can compare to the flair of this most beautiful affair.

My nostrils are full of her sweet, perfumed scent's air.

The winds guide us when we fly in the beautiful sky.

As our love drifts by.

Drops of dew cover her body as we float through the white, puffy, clouded, sky.

Like an angel child that drives me wild.

Her youth is contagious and our love outrageous.

She ties me in knots with her love, pulls me through and dies as I stew.

Always true to her view.

She always makes the loving feel like new.

J. Billet's alias Jonathan Billet

My Explanation

"My Explanation"

Getting the rich to "Pitch In" as Warren Buffet says he'd like them to is like getting horses to pitch their horseshoes or getting a pitcher to pitch 12 dozen no-hitters in a row.  Making a pitcher pour 12 million gallons of lemonade.  Getting a pitchfork to hum in perfect pitch like a tuning fork.  It's like a pitch for Al-Qaeda in rural Alabama.  I'll believe it when I see it.  Rich people donate more of their money to politicians than they give to the government.  PACS ARE KING.  Warren Buffet acts like a sales manager overseeing his employees.  He knows that rich people are too powerful ever to give up their money's power.  I would believe it if all the rich people went broke and were in the same position as the people they step on.  As long as money is king, the President would veto any type of bill that asked the rich people to give up their money to the government.  Instead, they, like Warren Buffet, would never give up their power.  I would trust them liberal and conservative as far as I could throw them.  Communism is even worse where one person gets the one percent of the profits.  We are asking for a cease-fire among the rich, which will never happen.  People don't donate to causes without an ulterior motive.  The one percent of westerners could give more money to the shrinking middle class, but I can't see how with the attitudes they share about giving up money unless they can make more.  I hope that this cash will decide to spread itself, but I doubt it!  Screw the rich dictators.

Zeek Zucchini alias J.Billet's

Foul

"Foul"

"IF YOU’RE IN BED WITH AN ELDERLY MATE AND PASS THE GAS, IT'S
LIKE SKATING ON THIN ICE!"

FROM THE QUOTATIONS OF CHAIRMAN

MAONAISE ZE DUNG.

BY JONATHAN BILLET

Poetry For Politicians

"Poetry For Politicians"

When the politicians say, "PEACE AND PROSPERITY FOR ALL," what they mean is, "LET THEM EAT CAKE!"  Because the presidential race will be so disastrous, I am voting for Robama Barama.  Both sound good enough for me.

By Zeek Zucchini

After A Rain It Shines

"After A Rain It Shines"

What is to befall us?

There is a blind spot when the sun hides the moon and the night hides the day skies.

Dawn's dusk cries.

Truth never lies, but it dies.

With every new revolution is a baby's heartbeat.

Love is here to stay forever.

A new sound in time.

The deafening roar of millions will once again be silenced by quiet solitude.

Beautiful, refreshing, harmonies' musical songs.

We will all live and thrive in peace.

Gracias Dio!!!!!!!!!!

J. Billet

Kim Jong-Il

"Kim Jong-Il"

Life has its schools run for fools.

In heavenly musical prayer, there is a descending stair.

The millionaire’s heir is buried in 20 pairs of the best pair of his mushman underwear.

The hearse's wooded casket rolls by with a red, white, and blue flag.

What a drag!

A procession of dignitaries and limousines follow.

It's hard to swallow!

Sirens blast a blare as people let out shouts of despair into the television's freezing air.

At this picture on my tube, I try not to stare!

Is this Jong-Il's affair for a subliminally autistic red scare?

J. Billet

N.Y. Times

"N.Y. Times"

Newspaper headlines are superficial.  They come and go as it pleases them.  They speak of current events down here in hell.  Cold up there, where they are written and read.  All these news' tabloids are written by minds of comatose editors trying to beat the clocks.  Never getting past the headlines of lost times’ deadlines.  They are lost to this day, never to be found again at some future date.  Lines are thrown like dice, or drawn like cards, but never seriously written.

A Dream Called You

"A Dream Called You"

A monarch's butterfly flew with me in the clouds.  We flew as this luftmensch smiled at me, flying with silver wings.  My tears cry in this dream.  A spring rain makes the flower shower.  My love looses all of her secret power.  Sacks of flour are made by the hour.  As the breeze blows, my mind starts to think it knows that it's dreaming.  I'll be with you for the fifth time today, never to stay as I fall into another deep sleep.  Trying not to snore to wake you up!  Love you again and again -

J.Billet