rory rambles, spins himself, pins the tail on the inner donkey, and brings you another installment of coulrophobia desensitization training

Perhaps the past foretells the future. Some time ago a presumed member of the sub-species homo redneckus delivered this car to this woodland road that rory rambled on yesterday between forays into swamp, up slippery rocks, and through briar and blueberry, while tracking wildlife to put a tiny jingle in his purse and serve mistress science. In the past this automobile burned fossil fuels and contributed to the invasion and scarring of nature. Then it died. It don't work no more. Nature is reclaiming it. Every day some more molecules leave it. rust forms. taking it back into the elemental form from whence it came. iron was mined in revolutionary times and many years after not far from where this steel hulk lies. sorta like it came home to die. one day, no car will run on this planet. perhaps the past foretells the future.



now that roryz said somethin' 'bout his "purse" in the above passage he realizes that the conditioned minds of modern amerikan folk will wonder, is rory gay? this puts rory in the position of wanting to say fuck yes, I'm gay, because I think gay is okay. if I were gay that'd be fine with me. however, I'm not. now that roryz said that, he thinks to himself, why do you even bother saying that? I am gay. I am not gay. If I were a clown, I could get out of this whole mess as pointed out in my first clown post, because according to Christian Clowning authorites, clowns are "asexual." see for example:



of course if I were a clown, I would shoot myself. point is, if any, why the fuck does anybody care who is gay and what the fuck is wrong with a man carrying a purse? rory has carried a shoulder bag of an outdoorsy type at times and occasionally had a comment that nobody is going to say anything about a guy like rory carrying a purse. well, that ain't true cause saying nobody is gonna say anything is frickin' sayin' something. so one thing rory has to say today is: Gay is okay. another thing: perhaps the past foretells the future.

so during the rambles yesterday, rory sees this beautiful sight. oh what a lucky man i was.



she was so polite. it is a she. a gravid she. she said in her musical, lovely, way, with the tail-tip maraca. "scuse me sir. you scare me. i don't know you. would you please step away a little?" how polite these creatures are. how well mannered. no unnecessary unprovoked attacks disproportionate to the circumstances. no energy wasted. just a clear statement. "please step away. if you try to hurt me, i will try to hurt you, so that you won't hurt me." pretty frickin' reasonable. not very scary really, when you think about it. and how pretty she is even now as her hide grows dull as the time for shedding and re-brightening approaches. reminds me of a conversation rory had with a trucker, who, seeing rory carrying some telltale gear towards the hills above a truck lot, said, "lookin' for snakes?"

rory replied, "yep."
trucker asked, "what kind?"
rory replied, "rattlesnakes."
trucker looked rory over.
rory looked trucker over. trucker was about 6' 2", 'bout 5 inches shorter than rory. trucker weighed 'bout 400 lbs. conservative estimate. shit you not. trucker had an irregular stubble. like he'd shaved parts of his face 'bout two days ago and other parts 'bout a week ago. not in the conventional pattern of any beard, goat, stache, or burns, however. trucker's T-shirt had two arrows on it. one pointing up. one pointing down. between the arrows two lines of words. the top line: "the man." the bottom line: "the legend." it was a "white" shirt with black writing though. not like the example here.

t shirt had what appeard to be coffee, barbecue sauce, and chocolate stains on it. trucker's belly was hanging out below the bottom of the t shirt 'bout 7 or 8 inches. belly was hanging over his belt buckle obscuring it. truckers 5 to 7 remaining teeth were the color toilet bowl porcelain gets to be when the bowl has been filled to the brim with urine and excrement and then left to dessicate in an abandoned service station restroom during an august heat wave. the arrow leading down from the text stating "the legend" pointed directly at his toad-belly-white-buckle-obscurin' -flab-flap. kinda ruined the impact, I would think. wearing a cap. greasy cap. said "hostess cakes" on it.
trucker says to rory, "snakes is disgustin'. I hate snakes. oughtta kill 'em all."
rory says, "see ya." heads up into the hills to work.

meanwhile dead cars rust. people wanna kill snakes that did them no harm. and clowns make balloon animals. what a frickin' world 'tis. judging from the comments made by some of the few readers of this scream into the vast darkness of the internet known as roryshock, roryz loyal binary code buddies are disproportionately coulrophobic. rory hopes you availed yourself of the link to help. please. seek professional help. although what follows may help to desensitize you to clowns so that someday your seeing of even the most hideous shrine or rotary-sponsored clown making the most obscene balloon animals will be as easy as shooting defenseless families in haditha is for marines. desensitization. that's what we're goin' for here. now take a deep breath. and tell yourself. it's only a clown. it's only a balloon. it's only a clown with a balloon. he can't harm you. you are safe.



okay. now breathe. rory knows that was very scary. good job. breathe. in and out. in and out. okay. now look at the next clown image. breathe. that's it. not so scary is it?



[sound of rory screaming in terror!!!!!!!]

whew. guess that desensitization didn't work. wait. it's a news flash. comin' in from kansas senator sam brownback. an anti-internet porn crusader of the first order.



balloon animals. they're disgustin'. oughta kill 'em all.