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Army Of Naked Humiliation before/after I drove passed the local Bob Evans restaurant, when I noticed a quaint mailbox out front of it. Or perhaps towards the rear, its by a busy road but has no connection to it, and I am not an expert in such things. Anyway, the address was hand painted on it, with a thin brush, and the box itself looked rather beat up. And the thought occured to me: Bob Evans needs mail. No, Bob Evans needs harassment. I nodded sagely to the clientele as I drove past thinking, "Yeah, you fuckers are going to get it." Giggling, looking like a fool. What sort of mail should Bob Evans receive? Porn pictures of old naked women, of course. Grey pubic hairs, elongated labia, drooping tits, wrinkly skin. Too much make up and shallow stupid stares from aged eyes. All kinds of nastiness. Stares of the empty, stares of the lost, lost in age and passion, trying to reclaim what they lost. A stark reminder of how beautiful and pointless life is, an unthinking beam of light that withers us all as we bask in it. Perhaps we should send these pictures out, out across the nation. To the peoples and the governments of the world. Wallpaper dictators' palaces with it. Put it on the mirrors they use to shave in the morning. We'd have peace in a week. We should all take head of their silent pleading of humiliation. It could be over far too quickly, and there's no time for will nilly bickering or for those who lack fortitude. Indeed. Love all you can. Chase your dreams. After all, even if they are doing what they want and chasing their dreams, it could be YOUR grandma you find naked in your mailbox one morning. DVDA. Don't worry about failure. Its nothing. Just go.
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