Cosmic Charlie
How do you do?
Struffing and a-sliving
Down the avenue-oo.
Rosie red and electric blue
Yubba dubba
Dooba dabba
Avenue-oo.
Say you’ll stay there
If you can
Jefferson Airplane
Is a band.
But first,
I farted,
And then
I pooed.
A little bit of older
And-a we could have time
Slucking up the furgles
With a wicky-dicky whee-eel.
Cosmic Charlie
Ohh, baby.
We gotta go.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
“No, seriously… it looks silly but deserves a closer reading, I swear. He’s like the Lewis Carroll, but with poop.”
My work spans the gap between low comedy and really, really low comedy.
Low times call for low comedy.
Besides – not that anyone should give a shit what I think – that imagined conversation about you isn’t too different from real ones I have with uninitiated friends about the Dead.
“First, you should know that Jerry was a junkie this decade. The keyboard player is, statistically, passed out. And a lot of this is going to be exactly what people think it is. Just try to ignore all of the circumstances about this, if you can. Don’t wonder what anyone smells like. Now, check out this Stella Blue.”
Still better that
n the lyrics to any given Phish song.
“Still better than the lyrics to any given Phish song.”
Sorry ’bout that.
a car
that runs on
the pee
and
the poo