Poker Spaghetti performing live at Woodstock
Once upon a time, a surrealist went windsurfing in Harry’s Hardware Store. Poor Harry! He was upset because he did not have an umbrella to stay dry. Harry started to cry.
The surrealist stopped windsurfing and comforted Harry. They fell in love and formed a two-man rock band. The surrealist played the paper towel, and Harry played the wrench. Both sang vocals. They called themselves Poker Spaghetti.
Poker Spaghetti never had any Top-Ten hits, but fans enjoyed the power-cord muffins Poker Spaghetti baked to be sold at their concerts.
Poker Spaghetti played at Woodstock, but no one remembers them being there.
“How many surrealists does it take to change a light bulb?”
“How many?”
“Would you like a power-cord muffin? I bought extra ones at a Poker Spaghetti concert last night.”
“No thanks, I ate at the dentist’s.”
“Really? What did you have?”
“Three cavities. They were quite filling.”
A surrealist walked into a bar and the bartender said, “Hey, aren’t you a member of Poker Spaghetti?”
“Yeah,” said the surrealist, “but we just broke up.”
“Why?” asked the bartender.
“Creative similarities,” said the surrealist.
“That’s too bad,” said the bartender. “I loved your power-cord muffins! What will you have?”
“I’ll have a folding wooden chair with a dash of flashlight, please.”
The bartender left, then returned carrying a folding wooden chair with a dash of flashlight. The surrealist drank the folding wooden chair with a dash of flashlight and then died.
The surrealist saw images of his life pass before him as he rose out of his body and traveled down a dark tunnel. He saw melting clocks, a giant eye on an easel, men with apple faces, a tuba elephant, and weird-colored triangles, circles, and squares. He did not understand the images and suddenly realized, This isn’t my life! Someone chose the wrong DVD.
But by that time, he had reached the end of the tunnel and emerged into the bright white light. How wonderful to be surrounded by such unconditional tomatoes!
The Being of Light said, “If I burn out, how many surrealists will it take to change me?”
And the surrealist replied, “Kitchen sink.”
Note: No silly surreal ideas were harmed during the writing of this blog.
