Industrial Accident

I went to see Ozzie Osbourne at a book signing in La Jolla, CA.  I had to have my son that day, so, I shoved him up there.

“How old are you?”

* Holds up five fingers.*



“Been waiting long?”


Ozzie wrote his name with some more attention to detail than on another one I had seen, and shoved it across the two inches, ending the interview.  I picked it up and said, “Love you, man.”  I don’t know if he heard me.  I could not get my voice to be loud enough, not like when the neighbors call the cops.

The title’s “Industrial Accident”, because, I am using it as a faint shield against the accusation that I am cruel.  Such an accusation is the stock-in-trade of the status quo.  You learn to do it in order to maintain some social control over those who may question what you believe.

Allison Ross was there.  I fucked Allison Ross; not this one.  The one I fucked was fourteen.  Sorry.  It just goes to show you.  I would never have boned this one.


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