Do You Still Like Us?

are you trying to act like you don’t want to rub your hard wiener against another hard wiener? : a podcast that likes big wieners #110

‘good morning’
‘we are not gods...’
...smiles and coughs and knowing winks and nods push through hazy smokes and hazy, sunny rays  
)()()the o0ld on3s...the 0ddd one$l;;; 3never seem sh00000w U>p”””
...
“This can be true”
a puff of bluish smoke raises and wafts through the aire, stinky but still oddly sweet 
“But sometimes not”
a simple and true smile shines from an old and weathered mouth of crooked teeth and sharp eyes crowded with earned and worn wrinkles
“true...but we are here....and there are no gods and we are here...and where are the go...”
“Shhhhhhhhh....”
a pause ensues....truth can be hard to see and so they all squint and smile
...
4 gals stand before 2 old tinies...no gods among them....but truth burns to tell true
......
“You might be right”
...
“We ran away long ago”

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the 4 gals grow sleepy as the sun begins to rise, they struggle to stay awake and watch the cute tinies begin to wake up and row their little boats back home, most going the right way and some going wrong, everyone groggy and a little cross and wanting a hot breakfast before they all set sail back into the thick, quick, hit of battle again.
“Sad how everyone can come together so easily at the end of the day.”
“And start all the hate back up in the morning.”
the tiny voices from behind startle the girls and they quickly turn around to find a tiny old man and tiny old lady sitting next to each other holding hands on a log not far away. they are both dressed in dark green tunics and thick, ripped, tattered brown pants. the lady smiles sweetly as the old man winks, nods his head and lights up the tiniest smoking pipe the gals have ever seen.
“Good morning.”
“Yes good morning beautiful ones, are you the gods who have returned?”

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and soon homes and taverns and streets are filled with light and fire and laughter and food and drinks, some are dressed in blue and red and some are dressed in red and blue, and some mix and some mingle unknowingly happy amongst one another. the towns seem connected in their togetherness and commons. at times the towns feel connected, but the looming ships still sit idle and testament in the bay, their wounds real and deep and recent. at random fights break out of the night, until they die back down again. at random laughter and song shine bright until they quiet down again. the night grows deeper as little tinies laugh and climb into tiny boats and float and bob and rock in the bay, watching the fresh hanging moon peek out from behind the cloudy, deep sky. they talk and share and laugh and cry, the tiny ships do not notice how they mingle and mix amongst one another. 4 gals creep farther back into the darkness and forest behind them to watch. 2 tiny towns mix and mingle and there is no hate as the moon hangs high over a happy and peaceful, sleepy, sweet scene.

black lives matter...acab...abolish the, everything bad : a podcast recorded when everything started and might be turning democratic socialist #106

4 gals step out of the boat onto a soft and sandy wide bay beach. to their right in the distance is a beautiful port town full of obvious personality. to their left in the distance is a beautiful port town obviously full of personality. the colors don’t quite match, but they are such the same. the 4 gals walk to one end of the bay and examine the tiny town. it is cute. after a while they turn around and walk to the other end of the bay and examine the other tiny town. it is cute. the differences are hard to spot. they take their time examining and appreciating the cute tiny of it all as the sun dips in the distance and 2 fleets of ships quietly, quickly, swift dip back from the horizon. the fog is now gone, but the dark obscures all their figures as the fleet swiftly, unevenly splits and begins to sail swiftly back home to their tiny homes. 4 gals eventually notice the fleets return and hide in the dark shadows, watching, waiting, wondering, who are these cute tinies?
....
and in the dark one question presses...why DO they fight so?

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“monsters!!!!”
a tiny scream turns to a tiny roar as all the tiny waring ships begin to pull and tug their ships away. tiny bodies fall over the edges of quickly turning ships and splash tinie tiny in the calm lapping waters of the calm and lapping bay.
{{{::”d000004t rug””!!
‘yes! don’t run!’
‘wait, talk with us!’
“why do you fight so fierce??”
tiny hearts tremble from fearless chests and booming souls. a tiny pause ensues as the winds fade and everything sails to still.
““WE FIGHT FOR FREEDOM!””
a tiny and mighty roar echoes forth from all sides.
‘then why do you fight each other’
it is the first time the tinies have thought and yelled this thought in sync, the first time they have turned to each other and wondered why, why do they fight. it is a greatly tiny first thought.
“We have always fought for us!” they yell as
“We have always fought for us.” others yell in shock and sync
Both sides begin to see each other and wonder for the first in a long time why DO we fight?
‘we have come a long way’
‘and have longer to go’
“but perhaps tonight we can eat and rest and talk?”
{{__)yeah w33”r3 hungray, we need 400000df, s7up f!1ght, feeedb up”@#@ 
a tiny hero stands proud upon a deck. “never trust the gods. they turn us against.”
and a sudden and mighty wind pours forth and tiny ships pull sails taught as they all quickly begin to sail away. the fallen and overboard are easily reclaimed, but not always on the right ship as all the ships sail into a misty fog rolling thick into the bay, disappearing from view. 4 gals stand bewildered and lost in their tiny magic ship as it continues to float ahead, lazily onward and closer towards the near by empty beach.

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far over the horizon loud cracks and booms boom and crack loudly far and far away. the sounds slowly, lazily grow louder and closer as their boat lazily floats slowly closer towards.
“what is that I wonder?”
but they all know what it is, it is the tinies. they slowly float closer and scrunch their eyes towards the distance, blinded and tearing scrunch from the smoothly rising sun ahead.
}{}}_i c44n||t csee anyfang???|||`
but the noises boom and crack closer than far and their hearts begin to race at the chaos of it all, until they come upon the scene. a gut wrenching war of tiny ships pounding each other into next to nothing in a large island bay. it is devastating and evil and real. and it is so tiny. 4 brave gals stand in their magic boat and tower over the surreal scene, giant and real and splendid and appalled.
‘stop!’
‘now!’
the moment pauses at their booming voices. every clear eye turns and stares their way. the crashing clang and death pauses for the moment.

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As 4 gals tread water they smile and laugh about their adventure so far, such a silly and beautiful and scary thing. They wade and laugh and breath and float easily on their backs until just over the horizon a blob of a speck of boat sails slowly towards them. Tiny and dinky it slowly draws near, big enough to hold 4 little gals, an obvious leaking and sinking mess. As they all climb over the soaked and damp and ruggedly rough edges they wetly splash into an ankle deep of salty sea. They tiredly lay upon their backs, breathing, the water not reaching past their proud cheeks as they stare and smile into the deep, pure blue sky above. The boat floats on as sky turns to star.