TGRR Being Deceased, Coyote is Our New Spiritual Advisor

[Don Coyote]

Magnificent Coyote, Light of One Thousand Suns, King of Kings, Queen of FAAAABULOUS, Prince of Bel-Air!

Please to confide in the causality matrix which ties the rites of Santeria to the narrative arc of James and the Giant Peach?

You must to be drinking vodka. It must to be half moon time. That means half your ass is hanging out AND only half the moon moon is out. You must to be mooning your ass in the moon light. Then you must to be looking for the insect spirits and to be offering them then vodka from your own lips.

Bonus points if they either fire ants, or cicadas.

[LMNO]

I hear and obey, First Among Masters.

[Doktor Howl]

Dear Coyote:

Life completely out of control.  Sleep habits fucked.  Doin' the Elvis (pills for sleep, pills for waking).  Stress levels have exceeded "POOMP", more coffee, more everydamnthing.  The light at the end of the tunnel turned out to be an advertisement for Arby's.  There are blades coming out of the Southwest, and Aztecs haunt what sleep I get, screaming about variance reports and budget reforecasts.   Everyone around me has a smile stapled right to their skull, and dead animals and birds appear on my property 4 times a week.

And the people, Coyote...They're all showroom dummies, living their dummy lives and eating their dummy food while they wait, patiently, for their dress rehearsal with the mortician robot.  I can't get away from them.  I get threatening phone calls from all manner of area codes, people wanting to talk to me, who get defensive when I ask who they are (I have no bills in collection, which rules out the obvious).  It's only a matter of time before the scum get me, Coyote, and turn me into some weird stuffed fetish.

I'd run for the hills, but my feet do their own little boogie, from the house to the office & back, as if they have a mind of their own.  I try to scream warnings to the people around me, I try to tell them to GET OUT WHILE THEY STILL CAN, but my mouth just recites the work plan for the day.  I try to write out messages but everything's just fine.  My life is great.  Just ignore the above, I was only kidding.

Everything's just fine.  Forever and ever and ever and ever and ever

[Prince Glittersnatch III]

Dear Coyote,

There is blood in my stool. What is the best course of action?

[Don Coyote]

Dear Coyote:

Life completely out of control.  Sleep habits fucked.  Doin' the Elvis (pills for sleep, pills for waking).  Stress levels have exceeded "POOMP", more coffee, more everydamnthing.  The light at the end of the tunnel turned out to be an advertisement for Arby's.  There are blades coming out of the Southwest, and Aztecs haunt what sleep I get, screaming about variance reports and budget reforecasts.   Everyone around me has a smile stapled right to their skull, and dead animals and birds appear on my property 4 times a week.

And the people, Coyote...They're all showroom dummies, living their dummy lives and eating their dummy food while they wait, patiently, for their dress rehearsal with the mortician robot.  I can't get away from them.  I get threatening phone calls from all manner of area codes, people wanting to talk to me, who get defensive when I ask who they are (I have no bills in collection, which rules out the obvious).  It's only a matter of time before the scum get me, Coyote, and turn me into some weird stuffed fetish.

I'd run for the hills, but my feet do their own little boogie, from the house to the office & back, as if they have a mind of their own.  I try to scream warnings to the people around me, I try to tell them to GET OUT WHILE THEY STILL CAN, but my mouth just recites the work plan for the day.  I try to write out messages but everything's just fine.  My life is great.  Just ignore the above, I was only kidding.

Everything's just fine.  Forever and ever and ever and ever and ever

My Good Doktor,

It distresses me to hear of your plight. Only the most unwashed of masses would plague a man of Science to such ends. Ordinarily I would recommend a divestment of all worldly goods and living a life of blissful sin, but alas, you are a man of importance. Thus, you must not let the dummies get you down. I would recommend procuring a cycle of motoring, whether through purchase, theftborrowing, or SCIENCING it out a beloved family pet/automobile. Upon this cycle I recommend you exceed that limit of speed upon a road that is high and flat. Remember, the limits of speed are for THEM, and not for men of Science. It also reccommend taking along some of the Holy Fruit of the Desert with you. You will know what to do, and when will the time to use it. But if you need some recommendations, I suggest someplace filled with THEM. Some times you must allow the Holy Spirits flow through, and out of you, and onto those dummies.

Holyly Yours,
Coyote, Guru

[Don Coyote]

Dear Coyote,

There is blood in my stool. What is the best course of action?

Use lube when performing extracurricular activities.

[Doktor Howl]

Dear Coyote:

Life completely out of control.  Sleep habits fucked.  Doin' the Elvis (pills for sleep, pills for waking).  Stress levels have exceeded "POOMP", more coffee, more everydamnthing.  The light at the end of the tunnel turned out to be an advertisement for Arby's.  There are blades coming out of the Southwest, and Aztecs haunt what sleep I get, screaming about variance reports and budget reforecasts.   Everyone around me has a smile stapled right to their skull, and dead animals and birds appear on my property 4 times a week.

And the people, Coyote...They're all showroom dummies, living their dummy lives and eating their dummy food while they wait, patiently, for their dress rehearsal with the mortician robot.  I can't get away from them.  I get threatening phone calls from all manner of area codes, people wanting to talk to me, who get defensive when I ask who they are (I have no bills in collection, which rules out the obvious).  It's only a matter of time before the scum get me, Coyote, and turn me into some weird stuffed fetish.

I'd run for the hills, but my feet do their own little boogie, from the house to the office & back, as if they have a mind of their own.  I try to scream warnings to the people around me, I try to tell them to GET OUT WHILE THEY STILL CAN, but my mouth just recites the work plan for the day.  I try to write out messages but everything's just fine.  My life is great.  Just ignore the above, I was only kidding.

Everything's just fine.  Forever and ever and ever and ever and ever

My Good Doktor,

It distresses me to hear of your plight. Only the most unwashed of masses would plague a man of Science to such ends. Ordinarily I would recommend a divestment of all worldly goods and living a life of blissful sin, but alas, you are a man of importance. Thus, you must not let the dummies get you down. I would recommend procuring a cycle of motoring, whether through purchase, theftborrowing, or SCIENCING it out a beloved family pet/automobile. Upon this cycle I recommend you exceed that limit of speed upon a road that is high and flat. Remember, the limits of speed are for THEM, and not for men of Science. It also reccommend taking along some of the Holy Fruit of the Desert with you. You will know what to do, and when will the time to use it. But if you need some recommendations, I suggest someplace filled with THEM. Some times you must allow the Holy Spirits flow through, and out of you, and onto those dummies.

Holyly Yours,
Coyote, Guru

Can't.  I'm 3,129 miles from home, and all the roads out of this Damned City lead back in the other side of the City, and the cop cars all go wokkawokkawokka and the upside down people look like ghosts of different colors.  And the food pellets taste like ass. 

Stress here, Coyote.  HUGE stress.  I think the kind of stress that Hank Sr must have felt, you can never slow down never rest never stop giddy up hossie, there's an environmental report needs doing RIGHT NOW and there's a blowfish in my chest, right, don't disturb the bastard or BAM spines sticking out of my outsized & distorted torso.

Haha.  Just kidding.  Everything's great.  Couldn't be better.  I smile all the time.  Even when I sleep, or so I am told.  It's a big smile, Coyote, a friendly smile, and it's for all of you, the people I share my planet with.  The people who make me so very happy.

[Nephew Twiddleton]

Dear Coyote,

There is blood in my stool. What is the best course of action?

Use lube when performing extracurricular activities.

Dear Coyote,

There is blood in my stool. What is the best course of action?

Or, conversely, poop less.

This has the benefit of giving you a magnificent backlog to inflict upon your coworkers and loved ones.

Twid,
In the role of Doktor Blight

[Doktor Howl]

Dear Coyote,

There is blood in my stool. What is the best course of action?

That's a medical question.  Unless you're wanting some heh faith healing.

[Nephew Twiddleton]

O Pontifex Maxime (<---Proper Latins in the vocative case), forsooth, I realized today I realized that it's me dear Da's Fifty-Nointh Birtday. He's an Oirishman through an through, buth, he's living in that haythen land o' arr ancient enemy, England. Could you novena him up some dental care for a gift from me?

On a side note, I'm doing the Oirish musics on Saturday. It's supposed to be kids friendly, and I've chosen songs that are appropriate as Ireland can muster (it's hard to weed songs about getting drunk and being a martyr for the cause)- spiritually speaking, what should I also do to Think Of The Children^TM for my performance?

[LMNO]

Dear Coyote,

There is blood in my stool. What is the best course of action?

You know, no one has yet asked him whose blood it is...

[Doktor Howl]

Dear Coyote,

There is blood in my stool. What is the best course of action?

You know, no one has yet asked him whose blood it is...

DOES THAT MATTER THESE DAYS?

[Nephew Twiddleton]

Dear Coyote,

There is blood in my stool. What is the best course of action?

You know, no one has yet asked him whose blood it is...

DOES THAT MATTER THESE DAYS?

And then Glittersnatch became Toothyass....

[Prince Glittersnatch III]

Dear Coyote,

There is blood in my stool. What is the best course of action?

That's a medical question.  Unless you're wanting some heh faith healing.

Oh no, it is a VERY spiritual question. The ability of digestive tract to divine the future is well established. Thus blood strikes me as a rather bad omen. It also had several human bones that I dont remember eating.

[Nephew Twiddleton]

Dear Coyote,

There is blood in my stool. What is the best course of action?

That's a medical question.  Unless you're wanting some heh faith healing.

Oh no, it is a VERY spiritual question. The ability of digestive tract to divine the future is well established. Thus blood strikes me as a rather bad omen. It also had several human bones that I dont remember eating.

Did DNA testing confirm that it was not only human, but terrestrial life that produced the bone?

Doktor Blight,
might need a sample for further flaming poop bags analysis.