Get YOur Fortune HeRe!!!

THe amaZinG KrEskin'S ProPhCy FoR 2007

Every year, shortly after the New Year, I have a dream. In this dream I see, sometimes clearly, sometimes not so clearly, the future. This year the dream came last night. Last night there was nothing foggy about what I saw. I saw clearly several things. There was something in the dream which caused me to feel the things I saw were real. So real, I can say they have already happened, and we only wait for these events to unfold.

1. After two well known Senators (one Democrat, one Republican), go on T.V. and mention the word impeachment, Bush leaves Washington in a huff. He arrives in Crawford and chops wood for two months (sort of an extended spoiled rich boy pout). He returns only when Tony Snow resigns, then quickly, and without a plausible explanation, pulls most of the troops out of Iraq and refuses to give speeches or press conferences. Rumors will fly about drinking and drug use. He will begin to take Barney with him everywhere.

2. Homeland Security will find an nuclear weapon in a major city -- Austin, Texas, I think. The city will be evacuated. Many people will die trying to leave the city. People in other cities will also leave their homes in a panic.

Homeland Security discovers the device to be a hoax, something dream up by college students. The students couldn't believe the devise was treated as real. The story of the bomb being fake is never disclosed. The students are given jobs with the government; they are paid too, too much and shipped overseas. The press is told the bomb contained two hundred pounds of radioactive fissile material, and the only thing that saved Austin was that it was a dud. Osama is blamed.

3. Brad Pitt dies in a car wreck.

4. Paris Hilton is reported to have V.D., and when confronted with the story, covers her mouth and cries.

5. Confronted by American power Iran signs a treaty with Russia. Russian troops are stationed along the Iranian border.

6. The Mormon church begins to buy all available property in Independence Missouri.

poetry should be read by the ocean in the light of a full moon

Poem for Bloggers

If you like Bob Dylan, you will most likely love the following poem, even if you are not a great fan of poetry. Bob Dylan was a fan of Dylan Thomas. He took Thomas' first name to be his last name. Bob Dylan's real name is Robert Allen Zimmerman.

In My Craft or Sullen Art by: Dylan Thomas

In my craft or sullen art Exercised in the still night When only the moon rages And the lovers lie abed With all their griefs in their arms, I labour by singing light Not for ambition or bread Or the strut and trade of charms On the ivory stages But for the common wages Of their most secret heart. Not for the proud man apart From the raging moon I srite On these spindrift pages Nor for the towering dead With their nightingales and psalms But for the lovers, their arms Round the griefs of the ages, Who pay no praise or wages Nor heed my craft or art.

I woke straight up out of a coma and....

This is me trying to put the best scar forward.

If you read my December blog, you know what happened -- you know, the midget with the butter knife. I was drunk sitting in my favorite bar (The Hard Times and Misery Saloon), and the little guy pissed me off. He just stood there lookin at my shorts when I was talking to him.

I asked him, "why don't you look me in the eye?"

He said, "because I don't look up to scum like you, dickhead. Anyway, aren't I'a lookin you in the eye?"

Everybody laughed, and that's when I punched him on top the head -- the little fucker.

He pulled out his butter knife then -- and IT WAS ON.

You all don't really believe this, do you? I was just funnin ya. It was just a boring surgery, but be careful, cause I like to tell whoppers.

What really happened was emergency surgery for an exploded colon. (I had a cancer the size of a football. It was really gross. I was fecal vomiting -- that's when you throw up turds. But don't worry, it only happens when you have a football sized cancer keeping you from poopin). I was out, comatose for days. I was very, very sick, but I was too scared to die. I was so sick someone called for the priest. I hadn't seen a priest in years, but someone called one. It was only Gage and I in the room when the priest came in.

This is what Gage told me happened, "yeah, you woke straight up out of the coma. You had been out for days. Nobody thought you were going to make it. The doctors wouldn't look anyone in the eye when they talked-- and you know what that means. So we called the priest. He came with his oil and priest things. I don't know about Catholic stuff. Well, anyway he started putting oil on you and you began to moan. Then he mumbled some prayers. I don't know what he was saying. Gawd, Catholics are weird. Well, about that time he started to ask you in a loud voice, 'do you renounce Satan? Do you renounce Satan?' You woke straight up out of the coma and looked at him with his oil and priest stuff, and you said,'WAAT?' I damn near cracked up. He asked again--real serious, "do you renounce Satan?"

You looked at him for a while and asked, 'Father, am I going to die?'

He said, 'I don't want to worry you, but it doesn't look good.'

Then you said, 'Well, Father, if I'm going to die, I don't think it's a good idea for me to go around making me any new enemies."

The best boy in the world!

This is the hero of the novel "CHRISTMAS CASH" This is Gage.

Click here for "Christmas_Cash"

Play the Cuban Missile Crisis game: Blowuptheworld

Hey, J.F.K., you got lucky; Nikita blinked first. (oct. 16-oct.24, 1962--that's when prayer REALLY counted.)

I can remember during the Cuban missile crisis the nuns packed us up and sent us home to "be with our families should things take a turn for the worse." Of course, this was after things had taken a turn for the worse. I hated school and was glad to go home. But something didn't feel right. It wasn't a "snow day" kind of feeling. As we left school, Sister Beatrice yelled after us, "tell your parents it's either beads or bombs!!"

The ten minute "Duck and Cover" clip began to play during cartoon time. Captain Kangaroo talked about what to do when the bright flash of light came; it was more of a tearful goodbye. Mister GreenJeans walked off stage in the middle of Kangaroo's advice; his eyes filled with tears. The world was coming quickly to an end. Everybody was calm though, brave souls waiting for the fireing squad, waiting for Nikita to say "do svidaniya" to diplomacy. We watched Kennedy on T.V. as our troops gathered in Florida, as our B-52's, loaded to the teeth with bombs, winged away to Moscow, Kiev, Minsk, Vladivostok, to Armageddon.

I lived a few blocks from the church. The church doors stayed unlocked in those days, even at night. At all times during those twelve days in October, the church was filled with people praying the rosary, over and over -- twelve days and nights. And when it was over, they knew it was not the wisdom and restraint of world leaders that saved us, but only prayer. Prayers for mercy rose like thick, sweet incense to the gates of heaven. The Catholics in our church negotiated with and prayed to God's mother, Mary -- not to God himself. God would have let the bombs fly. God wanted to smell the blood of matyrs, not the mellifluous stench of the whispered prayers of penitent cowards. But God's mother urged him not to, not just yet, not today.

Back then, people seldom locked their doors. At night, my parents never locked the front door.

"We don't have anything. Why would anyone rob us? Unless they wanted the kids, and they can have them for all I care," he would say, then laugh.

Nobody was laughing at the prospect of global thermonuclear war.

I went outside and watched for a "big boy" looking bomb to come puttering across the sky with our Air National Guard jets following behind it, shooting at it. I worried they would hit the explosive part and the thing would blow -- this concept would later be known as "air burst."

I wondered what it would be like to burn to death. My little brother wandered outside in only his diaper. He watched me examine the empty sky, the whole time holding his bottle in his mouth. He didn't know, but I did. I was seven years old. He was just a kid.

Duck and Cover

"Famous Civil Defense film for children in which Bert the Turtle shows what to do in case of atomic attack." WoW! I remember this film. We practiced "Duck and Cover" six times a day during the Cuban missle crisis. President Kennedy was willing to go to war with the Russians over Cuba.

I don't know, George, the Democrats are saying we're the lab rats now.

Check out the stripper site. See what they say about you after you give them all your money and go home.

A friend of mine told me he found out his daughter had been working at a strip club. I asked him about it later and he said she tried to convince him the club was an upscale boutique for shoes, and it was her job to model the shoes.













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