Dog carcass in alley this morning, tire tread on burst stomach.
This city is afraid of me. I have seen its true face.
The streets are extended gutters and the gutters are full of blood and when the drains finally scab over, all the vermin will drown. The accumulated filth of all their sex and murder will foam up about their waists and all the whores and politicians will look up and shout, "Save us!"
...and I'll look down and whisper, "No."
They had a choice, all of them. They could have followed in the footsteps of good men like my father, or President Truman. Decent men who believed in a day's work for a day's pay.
Instead they followed the droppings of lechers and communists and didn't realize that the trail led over a precipice until it was too late.
Don't tell me they didn't have a choice.
Now the whole world stands on the brink, staring down into bloody hell, all those liberals and intellectuals and smooth-talkers...
...and all of a sudden, nobody can think of anything to say.
On Friday night, a Comedian died in New York.
Someone threw him out of a window and when he hit the sidewalk his head was driven up into his stomach.
Nobody cares. Nobody cares but me.
Born 1924, forty-five years a Comedian, died 1985, buried in the rain.
Is that what happens to us? A life of conflict with no time for friends… so that when it's done, only our enemies leave roses.
Heard joke once: Man goes to doctor. Says he's depressed. Says life seems harsh and cruel. Says he feels all alone in a threatening world where what lies ahead is vague and uncertain.
Doctor says, "Treatment is simple. Great clown Pagliacci is in town tonight. Go and see him. That should pick you up." Man bursts into tears. Says, "But Doctor...I am Pagliacci." Good joke. Everybody laugh. Roll on snare drum.
Curtains.
