Herein resides utterly unclassifiable stuff, stuff without genre, precedent, or clues as to the nature of its own arising. Other stuff is uttered here. Feel utterly free to utter otherwise - but clean up when you're done.

New Billings - the 59th State!
State fossil: Helen of Troy State weed: weed State flower: weed State hoe: Flaura Bush State cheese: Cududuh State Cheese Sate reptile: the ruby-throated long-haired snake State stone: weed State superhero: Weed Man State song: Bessemay Asso State bird: the tufted big-beaked mandrake State slogan: “Billings has got Top Billings!” Or “Don’t kiss my ass til you brush your teeth!” State crested marmaduke: the crested marmaduke State mixed drink: cold beer State Mathematical symbol: 9 State illness: herpes magnum opus State color: greenish black tinged with ochre streaks State oeuvre: New Billlings Phonebook (unabridged) State mollusk: The Giant Greasy Smelly Slug State neckwear: noose State prospector: Walter “sweet jeezus” McKenzie State goat: Jimbo the Bicuspid Ruminant State soup: New Billings Bullion State small mammal: microscopic horny crab State song: Georgia on my Mind State corpuscle: renal corpuscle State nightmare: trying to evade sabre-toothed giant flea but can’t State hairdo: the wet pompadour State road: Bleeker Parkway Tollway State rock: number 57 gravel State hat: French beanie State flying mammal: flying rat bastard mongrel weasel State concept: Extreme monotheism State Frothy Beverage: Chicken Soup
Poem Titles Write us a poem for these titles. Please submit actual verbal material. It would help if the verbal material applies to one ore more of the poem titles below. Thank you. Ode to an Old Car Wrecking a New House Serenely Pale Gold Towns As Seen from the Exploding Zeppelin Polka Lines, Polka Dots, Polka Dimes We Need to Think Outside the Diagonal Bag The Toilet Overflowed, but “They” Said the Carpet’s Wet Because We Just Shampooed It Meet Jesus at the Corner of Pico and de Gallo and del Rio Verde Arriba Con Fahko There’s Not a Rope in my Knot Our Memories of Rainy Days Are Clouded by the Snow Storm of Our Relentless Existential Agony The Bottle of Tawny Port Tom Kelley Purchased Thirty Years and Nine Time Zones Ago Lubricant for My Hard Drive is Hard to Come By What I Got Done at Work Today, Which Won’t Take Too Long to Describe Moose, the Amazing Moose! Drunk As a Legless Seawhorse I Forgot All the Amazing Stuff I Learned About Myself Six Minutes Ago No Refunds My Ass How Heavy the Heavy Ski Lift, How Light the White Light I’d Go On a Tri-State Killing Spree If I Knew the Roads Let’s Pick the One I Like Best A Urination for God, for Life, for the Ages, for Time Herself Finally Something to Make Me Shut Up Watching the Crack I Think You Should Rethink That Thoughtfully The Fuzz Below, The Hair Above A Battery of Basic Acid Tests Your teddy is blue, my shorts are too tight, let’s be free A brief history of the supressed eruption The Nonicles of Crarnia The unforeseen reach around My Latency is Dormant at the Base of My Spine If I May Speak for Rex, Tyrannosaurus Rex! My Wienie So Throbs in the Morning Light by the boy scientist poet musician tax payers
Whirled HeadQuarters Universal Perpetual Twelve-Step Program   Guaranteed to unravel dualism, shopaholicism, buffoonery, lassitude, compulsive voting, inappropriate hand gestures, creative grammar, droopy eyebrows, misplaced enthusiasm, advanced acquired immune hyperefficiencyism, jettisonsim, and all manner of microbial fixations. 1. treat yourself to a new toilet 2. don’t eat too much catshit 3. challenge yourself to a heavyweight boxing match 4. don’t eat your legs 5. refrain from abstaining 6. harness the power of yogurt 7. think like a pope 8. urge others to give you money 9. ululate when you follow cops outta donut shops 10. don’t be so annoying like last Thursday 11. challenge your therapist to a round of leg wrestling – double or nothing on your next stash of Prozac 12. just for a joke, smoke some dope and then glue a banana up the tailpipe of your beloved 13. jump off a wet cliff into a dry river bed 14. make shine while the sun hays 15. tell the fbi everything you know about terrorism 16. believe in a power greater than the G-dog
Trip to Florida Chart--3D View----
Résumé 2001- now: Community service and polishing my résumé. 1999-2000: Readied Y2k fix thingy. 1998: The divorce got settled and thankfully a little cash became available. 1996-97: I was not actually in the work force in any direct, meaningful way. 1995-6: Performed telephone consultations vis-à-vis the Atlanta Olympics. 1992-4: Sold photo collection, "Losers: Up Close and Personal," and coasted for while. 1992: Reluctantly re-joined the fucking service industry. 1991-2: Comedy club circuit kept me busy with interesting Gulf War shtick. 1988-90: Slowly flunked out of college. A great year (or two but who's counting?). 1986-88: Ran for public office in rural West Virginia, lost handily. 1985: Project manager, Crazy Pete's Sunglasses, Panama City Beach, FL. 1981-84: Met Crazy Pete. Long, spiraling downward crash ensued. 1980: Had my last formative experience. With spotty results. 1976-80: Sustained major tonnage of raw, California bullshit. 1975: Dabbled in the fucking service industry. 1974: Joined nutty cult. 1973 and beyore: Formed startling hypothesis as to how I and you got here.
Whirled Headquarters Nomenclature for Levels of Consciousness highest all fucked up New Times Roman Cached Linux Helvetica Flummoxed Flabbergasted Perfectly normal Diaphanous Suburbanite Recent convert Talking to officials at city hall lowest
Things We Are Probably Not Going to Get Around To This Calendar Year • Respectfully, asking the muthafuckin president of Azerbaijan and his wife how it’s hanging, respectively(one brutha to anutha). • Blowing a Wal Mart completely off the smoky remains of The Glory to Jesus Thrift Boutique. • Learn how to tipe. • Learn esperanto. And use it effectively to have sexual intercourse with Molly or Polly or Holly from accounting. • Volunteer my house for your next family reunion. • Volunteer for an unnecessary live organ transplant without written consent. • To act worse and feel better continually is it’s own reward. • Rescue Patty Duke or die trying. • Be less annoying. For lack of a better word. • Invent a versatile little gadget that feels good in the palm of my hand that will change life on earth radically forever and make me wealthy beyond all dreams of avarice. • Mistaking George Bush for Thor Heyerdahl. • Ask Dick Cheney about his “Christian name.” • Rename Dick Cheney, Dick UnCheney. • Memorize Francois Mitterand’s mobile phone number. • Fasten my seat belt before I get arrested for drunk driving. • Get America back to where it was in 1356. No matter the price. • Buy retail without shame. • Join any institution that utilizes the World Wide Web. • Vacuum my socks once a week. I just bought some for chrissakes.
Why My Roommate Is an Ex-Roommate · He found the keys to the place and couldn't get back in. · The landlord invoked the "no pets" clause. · He ate his room. · He was arrested for impersonating a being. · He's just a thing in a room, not a mate. · He was born that way. · He left all of a sudden. · Because I moved out. · Because I didn't want to talk about it. · Because my attorney shot him.
Ten or so Things We Hope Never Happen · The Yankees win the World Series. · George Bush becomes president. Again. · India and Pakistan get the a-bomb. · Al Gore quits shaving. · Troubled space station Mir is decommissioned. · Vice president of U.S.A. is named Dick. Again. · Vice president of U.S.A. goes into hiding. · Sans-a-belt plaid pants. · Shorts that come down to your ankles. · Drugs are illegal. · Microsoft. · The French hate us. · We have to learn English. · The French imitate us. · Skinny blonde girls with big delectable tits are considered "sex objects." __________________________________________________________________________________ Things We Do Not Yet Fully Understand · Floss · The law · Clarence Thomas · Marijuana · Jobs · Gravity · English · Sweat · Vinyl · Flat fish · Death · Bliss · Vulcanization · The Holy Bibble, especially Rebelations
Chucking Apple Tree in Otis
May We Recommend the Following Excuses Next Time You Get in a Jam: 1. I didn't strip a gear. I just didn't remember. 2. My good foot hurt bad. 3. They gave me the wrong prescription. I swear. 4. I went on the right cruise but got on the wrong boat. 5. It was coincident with the full flowering of my pyromania. 6. My neighbor was trying to get laid. You know how it is. 7. I went to the other Milwaukee. Goddammit. 8. I thought it was seventy percent non-alcoholic! 9. Bill Gates was trying to help.
The Screen
I spent the day staring at the screen, although I moved around a lot. In the morning over coffee I checked my e-mail and got the latest on my team and my planet. Stared at the screen, slurping caffeine. Then I go to work, stopping to get motor oil and spring water and scanned them in myself, tapping touch keys on the screen I stared at in confusion then comprehension. At work I settled into my pod in front of my screen. It's got the biggest cathode tube of all. My main screen. I don't address it directly for a while, I just bathe in its radius as I nuke some tofu nearby and equilibrate this daily conjunction of magnetic fields. Soon I extend my hands toward the keyboard, staring at the screen. I am now interacting. Much later I rise and go homeward and stop at the gym. I get on the treadmill and they have installed screens on every machine. They do not rotate or turn off and everyone must watch them as they pant. I sweat and try to look at a patch of carpet I can see at an angle, but by mile two I am erect, sweating profusely, staring at the screen. I shower with my eyes closed and then wipe them dry and make it home and turn on the tube as I enter. I start to click and scan and move around and do stuff. I make something to eat and eat it in front of the screen, scanning and staring at the screen.	I don't stare at one thing for very long. Later I go to a friend's house and work on our web-site. We stare at the screen, making the screens that we and hopefully others will stare at later. We laugh and joke. It is hard to make new screens all the time, and it gets pretty silly. But its fun, as when others come on the screen to let us know that they are staring at our screens. Back at home I click on and then off the screens as I pass thru, and decide that its been a long day and to go to bed. I make it dark and relax back into the pillow. I close my eyes and open them and I can't see any difference. I can't see my hand in front of my face, if I put it there. I begin to daydream tho its nighttime and soon close my eyes and soon I am really dreaming, silly stuff that I probably won't remember, stuff I would laugh at if I could. But the infra-red security camera would note, if you looked at the screen carefully enuff, that my eyes are clicking and scanning beneath their lids. I am staring at the screen with my eyes closed, entranced, watching a strange midnite movie. Parts of it I recognize as edited bits from screens I stared at earlier in the day, or last week. It makes me laugh and I poke fun at the screen. I poke it and it pokes back and for a moment it becomes a shared joke, watching myself staring at and back thru the screen. It is immensely direct. Asleep or awake there I am, staring at and only sometimes thru the screen.

I spent the day staring at the screen, although I moved around a lot. In the morning over coffee I checked my e-mail and got the latest on my team and my planet. Stared at the screen, slurping caffeine. Then I go to work, stopping to get motor oil and spring water and scanned them in myself, tapping touch keys on the screen I stared at in confusion then comprehension. At work I settled into my pod in front of my screen. It's got the biggest cathode tube of all. My main screen. I don't address it directly for a while, I just bathe in its radius as I nuke some tofu nearby and equilibrate this daily conjunction of magnetic fields. Soon I extend my hands toward the keyboard, staring at the screen. I am now interacting. Much later I rise and go homeward and stop at the gym. I get on the treadmill and they have installed screens on every machine. They do not rotate or turn off and everyone must watch them as they pant. I sweat and try to look at a patch of carpet I can see at an angle, but by mile two I am erect, sweating profusely, staring at the screen. I shower with my eyes closed and then wipe them dry and make it home and turn on the tube as I enter. I start to click and scan and move around and do stuff. I make something to eat and eat it in front of the screen, scanning and staring at the screen.

Find the Muskrat Win a Million Dollars!!!!!!!!!!!!! Actually, your choice: you can have the million OR you can have the muskrat OR you can get FREE ADVICE from your friends and visionaries at World Headquarters!!! P.S. If you find ALL the muskrats, you can have all the above plus a swell phone!!!! Batteries not included, but with a million bucks in your wallet, you got other problems like how are you gonna fit your wallet in your slax? OR you can have free parking at our website until the cows come home, AND you can have a bunch of other stuff that's really really cool but hard to describe right now OR you can drive our Chevron Algonquin Double Eagle All Vinyl Twin Sport Coupe DeVryllie from here to San Quentin. PLUS all the conjunctions you'll ever need!!!!! (Includes And, But (and) Or (or) And/Or.)