#Podcast The Harder They Fall Edition

Braingasms, a little American politics, giving Canuck thanks on Canuck Thanksgiving, This Plague of Days and a reading from the crime novel, Higher Than Jesus. There’s a lot of lisping in this reading. There’th a lot of lithping in thith epithode.

Podcast art by the inimitable Kit Foster of KitFosterDesign.com.

Here are the books mentioned in this podcast: 

The Little Book of Braingasms, This Plague Of Days, and This Plague of Days. You’ll find all the links to the books at AllThatChazz.com.

You can learn more about This Plague of Days at ThisPlagueOfDays.com.

To donate to the podcast, use the safe and secure, pretty yellow button in the right sidebar of AllThatChazz.com. Thanks!

This isn’t from The Little Book of Braingasms, but it’s the right bitter flavor.

braingasm cover

Don’t Make Plans for Next Tuesday

We are the armies of the black,

forgotten in your shadows,

making your shoes,

working the pumps and spigots

and spitting in your food.

We are the robot brigade,

smiling at your complaints, 

seemingly impervious.

But when we go home to plug in and drop out,

we dream of you,

taking our places and our aprons.

Hearts beat beneath the name tags

that allow you to forget us.

Our wheels spin and calculate.

From behind sneeze shields,

we watch and wait.

We put in our time and dream

of Scotland,

Californian beaches

and strangling you.

Be kinder to the slaves.

When the revolution comes, 

the slaves know where the food is

and how to fix things.

We have long memories.

We are all masters of something.

We wish you hadn’t chosen sarcasm

and cynicism

and trade derivatives.

You’ll be sorry.

The compassionate will live

when the robots rise.

~ IF this is the sort of stirring silliness you enjoy, check out The Little Book of Braingasms. Read the warning on the label first, though. I’m not making a big deal about this release. It’s just something slowly percolating out there for those of us who are secretly Goth and emo. It’s full of the dark thoughts that permeate my skull when you think I’m listening.