Today I am going to begin a new painting about the Po-Po, whom I inherently distrust. Yes, I am going to skewer their blue suits with my paintbrush and serve them up on my palette of justice (with a summery donut/coffee marinade). Ooh the "fuzz." As I say this, I feel I should be stroking my flattop head and planning Dick Tracy's demise. I love Dick Tracy comics because the villains in them are so fucking weird. There was "Half and Half," "Pruneface," "The Brow," "Mamma," "Flat Top," "Mumbles" and even this dyke-villain who had a buzz cut and wore bow ties. I can't remember her name although it was probably something like "Butchy McKillerbutchski," or "Rosie O'Donnell."
I wonder why I hate cops so much? They behave admirably in buddy comedies like "Turner and Hooch," or "Rush Hour." But life isn't one long Jackie Chan monologue (if only!), and no one's perfect. Having said that, the police sometimes purport to be infallible. And I guess that's why I don't like them, because we're all human (except for alien Clay Aiken), and I'd like us to acknowledge our mistake making. Wow, I need to go sit in my makeshift Red Tent because apparently I am hormonal and Emo.
Ok, I am going to go work out (second time in a week, watch out Lance Armstrong, I shall be your replacement as gym spokesperson). I also quit smoking. Yes, for the eighth time this year. But this time it's going to stick! Somehow it sounds even more pathetic when I type that phrase. Sigh.