Stew’s Last name is Pidd.

“What would he want, Woody?” asked Owen.

“He would want to call in Collin,” answered Woody.

“Would he, Woody? Would he, really, Woody? Would he?”

“When will you stop, Owen? Oh when, Owen?” pleaded Woody.

Just then, Parker drove up. “Get out of that car,” ordered Owen.

“Yes, but I have to park her,” said Parker.

“Ok, park her, Parker, and when you want to drive her, I’ll have Hunter hunt her.”

Parker asked, “Park her where? In the wood, Woody?”

“This conversation is patently absurd, and just plain stupid,” Stew said.


My mustache keeps me company

My mustache keeps me company, on the hot and dusty trails

It’s my mustache keeps me company, riding the lonesome rails

My mustache feels no jealousy, my mustache don’t keep score

It laughs at all my jokes, never thinks that I’m a bore

My mustache is my confidant, my one and only friend

My mustache keeps me company, ’til the bitter end

Slips Away

Remember when we were going to do a political radio show and then when we were going to start a whole pirate radio station?

Remember when that frequency opened up and we were going to start our own TV channel?

Remember the cooperative restaurant idea? The starch bar, the breakfast club, the muffin shop?

Remember when we were going to start that all ages club?

One by one, pathways slip away into the distance.

One by one, things that can be, can’t be.

I remember that great documentary we were going to make about your grandfather in Korea.

Your grandmother didn’t like my ethnicity. We shouldn’t have told her we were a couple.

We should have finished making that zine

that local punk rock compilation record

the 1-900 recreational drug information hotline

I was going to be a professional cartoonist

a radio commentator

an astronomer

an animator for NASA

go to film school

open an art gallery and name it after Janeane Garafalo so she would have to come and meet us

the performance art installation exploring the line between art and pornography

the record label

the fake heavy metal band

the fake country band

the fake Christian Rock band

They say everything happens for a reason

But what if nothing happens? Is that for a reason too?

I am almost finished with that tape for the kids. But nobody plays tapes anymore, and the kids are all grown up.

I am going to write those books, edit that epic travel video… 20 years in the making. Will anybody care if I actually finish it?

I still have to shoot that full length movie… I haven’t told her that she’s in it yet, I haven’t actually met her in person, but she’s perfect for the part.

It’s all on my list… that I copied from the previous list, that came from list, after list, after list. 30 years of the same list.

We were going to start that band. I guess it’s too late, since you have kids and live on the other side of the country.

I know it’s too late to interview Joey Ramone for my unwritten Ramones book. It would have been a great interview. It would have been a great book. I guess I have to take that one off my list.

I should have put writing this poem on a list, then I would have accomplished something.

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