Browse Tag: Photos

Voodoo Peeps Reprise

In praise of Easter, the ubiquitous Peeps, and, well, the desire for revenge – I give you “Voodoo Peeps.”

This tasty little tidbit was written in July, 2003. Like Peeps, it’s one of my favorites.

If you’re really angry at someone today, maybe this article will prevent you from murdering them. Happy Easter.

——————————————————————-

“Voodoo Peeps”
(originally posted here: Heron Flight Rand-O-Blog – July, 2003)

Ever feel like biting someone’s head off? Have a few people on your scene who deserve to have their heads chewed off and spit out like a piece of rancid beef? Would you do it if you knew you could get away with it?

Well… Until you come up with your plan for the perfect head chomping crime, I’ve got a little diversion for you. VOODOO PEEPS! These little peckers are oh so willing to vicariously give their lives in place of the big peckers in your life who really deserve to have there heads gnawed off. And it keeps you out of trouble!

First, start with a fresh box of marshmallow Peeps at Easter time. Remove the wrapping and put the box away somewhere. Forget about it until July, when the Peeps are perfectly stale. (They’re best that way!)

Let those peeps stale for a few months.
Let those peeps get stale for a few months.

Then, when some fowl excuse for a human being gets your tail feathers all in a knot, remove one of your little Peep friends from the box. (Note: Though you are peeved and all in a huff like a hen who just laid the mother of all eggs, be gentle in removing the Peep so as not to tear the guts out of his fellow beside him. You will need him at a later date for sure. Jerks of a feather flock together. If you have one jerk in your life, more are bound to follow.) Carefully position the Peep within your finger tips, using your pinky as a perch for your sugar-feathered friend.

The perfect Peep
The perfect Peep

Step three, the most satisfying part of the process: With gusto and delight, with soaring abandon, yet with precision, bite the hell out of his little soft body and rip his head right off his mallow shoulders! Do it as a starved buzzard who hasn’t seen a rotting carcass in weeks! Birds do not have teeth, but you do! Do your carnivorous worst! Bare those canines! Chomp down! Fill his jugular with all of your venemous anger!

Off with his head!
Off with his head!

But! Before you swallow, savor the moment! Toss his little egg-head around within your cheeks! Allow his sticky little cranium to migrate from one side of your mouth to the other! Suck his little brains out and feel your frustrations flock away as so many startled sparrows!

Is that a Peep in your mouth or are you just happy to see me?
Is that a Peep in your mouth or are you just happy to see me?

Ingest and smile!

Nice beard.
Nice beard.

Feel better? I knew you would! (A little birdy told me!)

May the purple Peep of happiness send droppings of peace upon you always! (Send pieces of droppings on you always?? Nah!!)

All That’s Left

This is all that's left of winter.
This is all that’s left of winter.

Remember that really cold, really snowy winter we just had?

This is all that is left. I don’t think this little hunk of snow is going to make it through the day. It’s sunny and 60 degrees here in my part of New Jersey. This is the day that will put winter to bed.

Break out the beach chairs, people!

What Ladies?

Ladies? I don't see any ladies. Maybe they drowned in that pond.
Ladies? I don’t see any ladies. Maybe they drowned in that pond.

Throwback Thursday – In the Days of the Mullet

Circa 1993
Circa 1993

The question that comes to mind, and which has been asked by my observant fiancee, is why is that lanyard hanging off my sunglasses and not wrapped (tightly perhaps) around my neck?

I allowed myself to sink into a 20-year reverie (not a 20-year long reverie, but reminiscing back to 20-years past) and I remembered why I never wrapped that cord around my neck. The reason: I used to keep those glasses slung over the rearview mirror of my car, which was quite possibly a bronze-colored Volare station wagon at that period of my life, which eventually bit the dust and which a friend and I almost lost on I-78 while towing it behind his pickup truck up Jugtown Mountain. It was a pain in the neck to wear that lanyard around my neck, get it under all that glorious long hair, which some of you, the racists among you, are inordinately fond of referring to as a “mullet,” only to have to extract said lanyard from beneath that gorgeous mane to re-hang from the mirror, and then to properly re-style the curly locks again. Mystery solved.

On close inspection, one might notice what appears to be an even longer lanyard hanging off my shoulders. Before you question it, I will reveal that it is the pull strings from the maroon hoodie I traditionally wore beneath that ultra-cool Lee jean jacket. (Racists refer to it as “dungaree.”) I still have that jacket. It only fits half of me now.

By the way, I still have that guitar too. I’ve had it for 30 years now. Others have come and gone over the years. That one is still my one love, from the days of the mullet to the days of… well, yes, now I have a lot less hair. Sigh.