rock and roll musings by Tim Byrnes

Looking For Lester In All The Wrong Places: The Inevitable prb Interview w/God

     Been awhile. Sorry. Had to put Sammy down about 2 weeks ago and it really screwed me up. I mean, I cried for stuff that happened 40 years ago. When it's Buster's turn I'm just gonna ask for a shot for myself, too. In the meantime, the frycook job, well, let's just say it didn't work out. I'm signed up for unemployment while I search for a work-at-home job that's not a scam and am currently rehearsing w/2, count 'em, 2 country bands (that actually work) so wish me luck.

   Earler this week, though, when things were really dark (which is why I haven't been writing lately, it was all whining. A fine whine perhaps, but whine nonetheless) I was just about asleep when the bottom slat of my futon snapped, causing the suckerfish to close up, not only on me, but on my poor little buddy Bleeker Street Kitten, who, fearing that he was being eaten by a floral covered alligator, proceeded to piss himself. It was such a slapstick answer to the unspoken "what next" question, that I had to burst out laughing. After rescuing Bleeker I was off to take the now besotted blankets to the washing machine when I tripped over MacDougal, who'd been hiding in the dark during all the ruckus, and banged my head on a brass pole lamp I got from my Aunt's house along w/Sammy, which of course lead to the following fantasy sequence.

(All of the above, however, is the Lester's honest truth).

     Smoke cleared like a reverse run film clip in black and white. All grainy. Shadows from a ceiling fan (the 6 - plus footer's natural enemy) slowly strobed the interior of what looked to be the lowest low dive gin mill in imagexistence. My head still throbbing from it's head on with the reality based pole lamp, I sat at the bar. From the shadows behind the bar stepped George W. Bush, smiling and clearly on fire.

     "A burning Bush??!!" I asked my subconcious, "A burning Bush!!?? This is the best you can do?"

   Special FX sent up some swirling harp music along with the slow dissolve which focused into me, still at the bar, but now faced w/a more appropriate embodiment of God. A form I consider the pinnacle of beauty and strength, the lovely and talented Courtney Love.

     That's right I said Courtney Love.

     This time, God's made in my (preferred) image. So w/no further ado. The prb interview w/God.

prb: So, yr God, huh?

god: Despite the prurient package you've given me, that would be a 'yes'.

prb: Hmmm, what an opportunity. What to ask first. Uh, can I see yr tits?

god: You should know better than anyone that you can't even score in yr own fantasies, son. You've got me here, what's on yr little, key word being little, mind?

prb: Alright. Gimme a minute, yr a little imposing but, then again, I've always been flustered around beautiful women. OK, first question: Why us?

god: Huh?

prb: I mean why create us? What was in it for you?

god: That's not for you to underst....

prb: Here we go. Why is it w/you deities and other politicians that the minute you get asked a direct question you hem and haw and ultimately tell us we won't understand?

god: My ways are mysterio....

prb: Nononononono. Not good enough. No more hokey pokey mumbo jumbo crap. Easy question: Why did you create us? What was/is in it for you?

god: I am that I am, the Way....

prb: That's not an answer, that's a slogan. Empty rhetoric. What is yr nature: Alien? Advanced conciousness? Time traveler? Is there a man behind the curtain I should pay no attention to?

god: I am all that and more and nothing, I am the Light and the....

prb: Well, I see we'll be getting no sense from you tonight. Although I gotta say, damn, you hot. Ok, let's try another tact. What's the Devil?

god: You are. Not you personally, you don't have the chops, but yr kind, humanity. I give you paradise and you create the history of murder. Wars and killing in my name, that's the Devil.

prb: So yr saying essentially that the Devil, or evil itself, is created and perpetuated by the thoughts and acts of man?

god: Very good, yr staring to catch on. I remember back when Lucifer got all mouthy, I told the motherfu....

prb: Wait a minute, if evil and the Devil are nothing more than personifications of all the bad things that go on in humanity's collective mind that doesn't it stand to reason that God, or the personification of good, is nothing more than than the sum of all of humanity's good thoughts and deeds?

god: Er, emm..... cough, cough  ..... uh, wanna see my tits?

    At that point I woke up on the laundry room floor. Hit it, Jim.

Posted by: timbyrnes at 21:42 | link | comments (4)

Keep Reading, It Get's Better

     Don't know if the photo I tried to upload uploaded, but if it did Sammy's on the left and that's Buster on the right. If it didn't, well Buster looks like Benjy and Sammy looks like a Black Buster. The reason I attempted to put said photo here is that I fear Sammy is not long for this world. He had what I guess was a stroke last night and has since been having difficulty getting to his feet. Once I prop him up though he can walk in and out of the house and is still eating. He's 14 years old going on 15 and I can only try to keep him comfortable for as long as I can. I need to call my Aunt but think I'll wait until the end. Tell her it was sudden.

     Speaking of sudden, the convenience store where I work closed down three days ago. Neither our  manager Marla or Shela, who we just hired August 1st, nor I had any warning. Just boom! Marla had been there 3 years, I was there just shy of 11 months and the best any of us has gotten regarding our final pay checks (in my case only like $70 for the 1 st 3 days of September) was - and I quote - "I don't know when I'll be able to get them to you." Something about paperwork. Rumors, of course, are flying: the owner's declared bankruptcy, no just the business, it's gonna be auctioned off, hey, why don't YOU buy it (like any of us can have that kind of money), now I gotta walk 2 blocks to get cigarettes etc. Turns out the previous manager who left 2 months ago after being there 14 years knew what was gonna happen. So did the guy who drove the oil delivery truck. So the front line troops, the minimum wage backbone of this industry were smiled at and nodded at and told what a great job they were doing while the usual suspects covered their asses and gave themselves time to prepare to have the ladder pulled out from under them.

    While Marla, Shela and I are left to do the Wiley Coyote hang time boogie, which believe me, is a lot funnier on television.

     But don't despair, dear reader, we didn't! The good thing, one of the many good things about a small town is that news travels fast and in the court of popular opinion (my favorite) we workers came off great. As a matter of fact a local business, Fat Willie's Diner - best burgers in the world, btw, and I'm from New York - hired Shela right away as she had worked there before and, within 2 days offerred both Marla and I jobs. The town took care of it's own, that's what it feels  like, and the town has declared me one of it's own and, for all my bitching about the place, feels real good.

     So, I'm now a frycook/dishwasher ( a noble profession for a poet) at Fat willie's and am considering getting a 'mother' tatoo and changing my name to Smokey.

Posted by: timbyrnes at 19:34 | link | comments (2)