Odd Words

6.23.2020

-—•′ Mel Gibson’s antisemitic, peripatetic, Black Lives Anti-matter, met Wynona Ryder -—•′ —•′ she shines the window of inspiration—•′ by mrjyn—•′ —•’ June 23, 2020 —•’

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Mel Gibson’s antisemitic,peripatetic,Black LivesAnti-mattermetWynona Ryder —

Johnny Depp’s emotionally disabused,  ex-girlfriend …  survivor;

her personnel, deemed non-essential duringThe Great Plague of COVID-19,madeher overhear his vile, epithet-laden solo,

 

MY Last Temptation of Christ’s… Last Fucking YOLO.

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by 

 

mrjyn

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June 23, 2020

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Thanks, Nona! 
Although salacious, speculative mondegreen,provocative race-bait, prurient, strained, and highly charged —

her timing doesn’t get points,
but then, maybe it does,
because, you know, she damn well meant to —
packs a-helluva wallop,
not peer reviewed, nor double-blind,
possibly specious,
I know because grandpa told me; 

    ‘If it looks like,

and sounds like,

     and talks like it too, 

 then that duck ain’t no drake  …

 PUT  lil driz IN A ZOO!’

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Mel seems to me, to have forgone his sanity for the dessert without need of water, his brain just rotted; he’s gone, out of his tunechi, totally potted!

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Yep, mate, looks like he’s bonkers, Mel’s  Lost his Religion;now he’s got alerted on his iPhone by bell,  

HIS RESERVATION’S CONFIRMED FOR A, ‘LIFETIME IN HELL.’

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—•’by

 mrjyn

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written on the occasion
of an occasional one too many 

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 Mel Gibson, 

eyes … open —•’

cognitively compromised,

lights are on, but

office is  closed.

—•’

by mrjyn venerble collegiate colleague tunechi a veni ad votrum a nostrum a forum

Odd Bits of Life in New Orleans

I promise, we’ll get to Odd Words in a moment, but first a word from our sponsor” The Typist.

I think you have the right to tell your story and like I said I think you should do what you can to protect the privacy of those you write about . . . ultimately, what you’re really trying to do is tell the story of who you are. Sometimes you have to include other people, but mostly it needs to be about you.”
— Cheryl Strayed, who wrote the pseudonymous column Dear Sugar on The Rumpus.

The explosion of auto-biographical writing and creative non-fiction (and the line between the two is not at all clear unless autobiography appears somewhere in the cover, making the other people in the writer’s life just fuzzy enough to not be easily identifiable), may be the last gasp of the Me-X-Y generation. The seminar…

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