ReiBred’s idol of the day… (February 29, 2008)

tuxdog.gif…is Tuxedo dog!

Tuxedo dog. Up and down my street, the hoses spray all day long, but my grass is brown and spiky. Don’t they know? Tuxedo dog. Water your grass at night and it won’t evaporate. They drive their Yukons and Tahoes and complain about unnecessary options, their psychic windshield wipers and sanguine robot-voiced thermostats. Tuxedo Dog. Every house is the same. Walk in each and find the shitter with my eyes closed. I poop on their expensive leather couch and spit at their 60-inch plasma TV. Tuxedo dog. Why are they running, when they see me standing still? Tuxedo dog.

I had a dream. In it forty men were lined-up for execution. When the guns were fired a bunch of birds took flight, but they turned into bananas. And they everyone went for pizza, even the dead guys. The ball pit swallowed me whole; I couldn’t swim through all the globes back to the surface. And my boss was suddenly telling me some bull shit, and I wanted to punch him in the head, but I knew I had to make rent. We were in an empty swimming pool for some reason. Tuxedo Dog.

A lot of people smell bad, or just a lot like vinegar. Do they think they smell great or sexy? Tuxedo dog. Or do I smell, but no one is willing to tell me? Tuxedo dog. I never tell people they stink; it’s a conspiracy of silence. Tuxedo dog.

tuxdog2.gifForgotten gnostic robots in sleep mode await the coming directive. Joints seized, engines without oil grind against the marble facade of decrepit institutions of learning. 100 products released a second, sold by Tony Little and other roadside accidents on the gravel. Street preachers forget letter and verse and substitute missiles and action figures. They wear ratty straw hats and drive old model Ts with no running boards that spew fire out of every orifice. Muck in the street, the cobblestones, the streams of offal pouring from second story windows, the sky muddy, making brown the color of the 27th century. Antiseptic and antibacterial beauties with tiny foreheads and long fingers stride above the streets, crushing little wax men. Running fast. A dream. A scent, nearly lost. Colors beyond the visible spectrum, ultraviolet and infrared, paint a canvas, a tapestry of mutilated impressionist masterpieces, until the glow is too bright. Gripping hard, each rung farther than the last. The air is taffy, pink and yellow, and the sugar crystallizes on the short hairs of my arm. Plucked from my perch, through the swirl, held between the thumb and index finger of an adolescent god, brought to his face. It is Burl Ives. His eyes are two colors: one silver, one gold. He pukes rainbows.

Tuxedo dog.

One Trackback

  1. By ReiBred Idol of the Day… The Return « ReiBred on April 10, 2008 at 9:00 pm

    […] ReiBred Idol of the Day… The Return After a long hiatus, we’re bringing it back to the streets! So, give a warm round of applause to Joseph Gordon Levitt, ReiBred’s latest (and greatest?) Idol of the Day. (Eh, probably not “greatest,” considering Tim Schafer, was Idol of the Day just last month. And don’t forget Tuxedo Dog!) […]

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