BLACK friday!

i ain't buyin' sh!t today.
but i AM using a LOT of hot sauce, my ninjas.
dead prez is gonna be bumpin' on my boombox all day, too.
i'm sayin',
let's forget about keepin' the christ in christmas,
and put the black back in black friday.
for those of ya'll who can't quite get busy like that,
you can put the black metal in it today, instead.
scandinavian facepaint manufacturers must make a fortune.....
word up.

last night,
we stoked a real-deal barbarian tinder & flint barbarian bonfire.
i'm talkin' about swedish fire steel,
a magnesium stick with a scraper thing attached,
and dryer lint,
which according to my most feminine-sensitive male friend,
(and somehow i have a bunch of them, hence the superlative)
that's how the girl scouts do it....
it's also how the newhamden Folk Life collective doo-doo it, too.
the pitch-pine pyre was matchless,
and we didn't use any matches, either...
i'm sayin'.

illumination, ya'll.
valkyrie vixens,
prone to snow rollin' and iceball huckin',
in a brief seated moment,
enjoying the hot fire....
i'm lucky, after all;
besides,
the squirrels don't stray far from the nuts, they say....

that's holly, and jim, (and harvest, too)
that 30-year old woman on the left not only brought up the tofurky,
but gave me the firestartin' firestarter stick we used to bet things burnin', too.
and speakin' on firestarter, she's TOTALLY a prodigy fan!
gettin' older doesn't necessarily mean growin' up, right?
hahahahahahahahahahahaha.
but for real, though.


ghost stories around the campfire are one thing,
but underexposed limbless spirit mites,
flittin' around in the woods is some blair witch-type business.
haunted by the hottness?
sounds good.
hot fire therapy, mutha-uckas,
heals holes in heavy, hard-hearted hearts, my ninjas....

now ghost rings,
that's some spirited memory action, indeed....
circles of flash-style light, made out of smoke,
changing shape, and remaining constant,
reappearing with each wisp of wood-fired goodness,
and disappearing again with a waft of wind.
leftovers, ya'll.
well after dinnertime,
some ideas stay fresh, ya'll.   

LOSS-LEADERS,
that's the term for black friday super-sales....
motivation to get in there,
get the fattie boombattie hookup,
and maintain a little loyalty later on,
an investment in deficit to benefit the whole.
positive pavlovian principles,
stimuli for reliable repeat- recognition.
pyrrhic victory somehow still counts as victory, even.
in that circumstance,
breaking even is still winning, i guess....
i mean,
that's what's up, right?

i'm fixin' on reppin' as a mutha-flippin' loss-leader.
c'mon.
thanks in part to a superstitious belief in battle-bard blueprints,
oracles of woodsly goodness,
and vanilla sky predilections;
......a.k.a. secret universal plans, kids.
as a result,
i'm keepin' it rurally really real,
at the forefront of an outnumbered, outflanked, outsized,
but never outshined,
vanguard of lightning striking vikings,
bringin' the thunder,
all the way to eleven,
in an all-consuming berserker furious Folk Life...
let's hope the winds blow in our favor, my ninjas.
warrior poetry in motion is the name of the game,
breaking even is still winning,
but an assisted-by-my daughters barbarian slaughter
is how we're doo-dooin' it...
outshiniest, b!tches;
never quiet, never soft......