Kansas Radio and the Big Beat

So I was in Kansas City last week. I drove in around 3 in the morning and had the good fortune of coming across a radio station that I now recommend and wish I had around here. But it is available on the internet at www.kkfi.org . They play quite a variety of good music, from the little I heard. I was initially attracted to their Psychedelic show that they played on the Friday night I drove in. I heard stuff from Jim Morrison and The Door's American Prayer album, something I've never heard on radio before, as well as some Door's cover songs I've never heard before that were quite good. I'm always interested in hearing Door's cover songs, especially ones that don't try to imitate exactly, but instead put their own spin and creativity into it. And that goes for all bands I think. You can never have too much of a good thing, though, so go ahead and play your songs, and his songs, and my songs, and her songs, and sing along and smoke a bong with Cheech and Chong and we'll all get along. What's that I hear? Mexican polka?

I want to go swimming.

Why is anyone ever surprised that somebody goes crazy? It only seems logical to me. And more importantly, why are only crazy people considered crazy? That's just lazy.

My heart feels a verge of something this hour. It was anxiety, but what if God comes down from Heaven and he touches me? Do I call him Gay? And if I pinched his cheek just once, would I be a giver or a taker?

Lastly, what is all this offense? I take offense and I somehow give it too. Is it just these stupid words? What's with all these stupid little words? They come and go like little drunken fairies that know no bounds to their infinite shit that they spread around like manure on your daddy's crop. And Daddy says the fairies help the crops grow and Mommy sits in a corner smiling away and the Devil takes Jesus' hand at the dinner table and boasts and toasts and rips off the hand, ritually because it always grows back, but the hands are piled so high that we eat them when the corn fails. Daddy says, what else is there?

I have a craving for Chinese and those little corns too.

A paraphrase of brother Aj: "She's so hot I'd pick the corn out of her shit and eat it" (as he mimics the action of using a toothpick to get at the corn).
He's always been a picky eater. I'd like to put a bun under some girls asses and dispense a whole corn dog, except I never seem to know where to put the money. They got them crazy little women there and I'm a gonna get me one.