gettin' it poppin'.

brussels sprouts.
baby cabbages.
tiny farts.
in your mouth.
the dopest thing out of belgium, even.
chocolate and waffles notwithstanding, of course.
add a little golden brown greasy vegan gravy,
and then it's all like,'whaaaaaaaaat!?'
how many brussels sprouts are too many?
eleven.
i'm serious.
i've done some makeshift science experimenting in my kitchen.
and that's the number i've come up with.
surprise, surprise.

i did something today.
something proactive.
something designed to combat the doldrums and dreariness
of short days, long nights, hard times, and weak sauce.
i bought the wife and myself a pair of tickets to see a show.
tomorrow night,
after work,
at the brass heart inn, down in quiet tamworth, nh.
we're going to get busy with some old-timey Folk Life musical compositions.
the two man gentleman band.
heard of 'em?
yeah, me neither,
but there's something special you should know about 'em.
they both play kazoos.
uh-huh. kazoos.
that's right, i said it.
vanilla sky like a munky-funky coincidence cultivator.
how could we not get down on some of that big action?
c'mon.
old clothes, hats, banjos, upright bass, and kazoos.
what are you?
an A-hole?
maybe.
there's a word we use for that kind of concentrated just-be-dopeness.
the word, my ninjas, is hottness.
now, i'm not one for mixing it up in social settings;
but like i said, ya'll:
kazoos.
there's no accordion or androgyny, and the show starts at 7:30, not 1a.m.,
but it is happening,
and this is the woodsly goodness.
and thus, we're riding out for a distinctly un-hermity outing.
time is unfolding.
time is expanding.
times is what you make 'em.
so make 'em;
never quiet, never soft.....