My ass really hurts. It must Be Pay Day.


If it’s payday, then you’ve been deposited out the colon of whatever five-day (or six-day (or seven-day)) intestine that has been washing you with acids and enzymes, leeching your life-essence and motor abilities. And at the same time, your paycheck has been working it’s way through your poop-tubes finally squeezed out, landing with a tired flop on a credit card bill, rent notice or your ever-spiraling porno-bill. Yes, by the incomprehensible quantuum that governs these dreadful daily doings, some odd moebius, you are the poop, the pooper and the pooped-upon.

I’ve included this bonus image of Johnny Blang his Rockin’ Guitar because I think he is awesome. He is the greatest rock-guitar player ever born. He trained on a 20-foot guitar made out of solid granite. As you can imagine, this instrument weighed many tons and had to be operated only in very remote locations, the last-known performance taking place at the White Sands Missile Range in New Mexico.

Text and Images © Andrew Auten – All Rights Reserved