patron saint of quality footware

glad my marxist period didnt last tbh 

seinfelt:

Jerry loses a tooth in the middle of a performance and it skitters out into the audience. As he crawls around on the sticky comedy club floor trying to find it, the disgusted audience refusing to help him, more of his teeth eject from his gums and scatter across the floor. When he finally collects them all, he emerges triumphantly from behind a table, blood smearing his toothless face, and continues his set as if nothing happened.

George gets into the elevator in his office’s building and presses the button for his floor. The doors close, but when they reopen moments later, there’s nothing outside but a hundred-foot drop into an empty field. There are no buildings as far as he can see, and the elevator seems impossibly suspended in the air. He tries pressing buttons for other floors, but the doors always reopen onto the same scene at the same elevation, only with different weather conditions.

Elaine has a dream wherein she’s the Vice President of the United States and Puddy is in a wheelchair with a pregnant wife. Taking this as a sign, she breaks up with him immediately upon waking, but quickly realizes she’s too apathetic to even consider starting a political career.

After several days in the elevator, George has developed an elaborate system for collecting rainwater from 14 and catching pigeons to eat on 5, which he cooks in the sunlight of the hellishly ozone-bereft 12. He spends most of his time enjoying the balmy breeze on 4, riding up to the blizzard on 11 whenever he begins to feel overheated. After a while, the boredom gets to him, and he takes a closer look at the elevator’s control panel, where he discovers a button he hadn’t seen before. With no hope left for rescue, he presses it and the doors close. After what seems like an hour of slow descent, the bell finally dings and the doors slide open, revealing an enormous audience rimmed by gigantic, toothless gums. The elevator tilts forward and he nearly falls out, hanging through the door as what appears to be blood drips from all around him. Eventually he manages to clamber back inside and desperately stabs at the “Door Close” button, but to no avail.

Kramer is furious when he learns that his deposits at the sperm bank have earned no interest.

(via sexhaver)

thetargetbird:

The act of simplicity takes enormous
effort as years continue to plunge into night.
You can ask, who am I? if you need and sleep
exhausted, or you can pack an afternoon in your
backpack like sunflowers in a tomb and fill
yourself with an intense copper calm.
Either way, it’s raining in the middle of summer
and it feels born out of line.

Two clouds go to a corner of the room and tell
each other lies, I believe them when they tell
me I can fly so long as it’s done through
irregular verbs. Feeling out their sulks and
jump-overs, I feel clear skinned and not unlike
a small rodent trapped above a slow glaze.

Don’t tell me about how the twilight
hurts your eyes, the hot sun pinching us awake
like the awkward flight of a frightened bird.
You whistled as a street car to the wild clouds,
a drizzle for boats would maybe visit later
and I’d like it to be in contact with me.
What a life, 30 and trapped in dorm rooms,
soul torn out of the linoleum. There was a thread
of day you pulled from umder the door,
morning spilling itself alive like a fried egg.

Another star cackled in the sky unnoticed
but rattled our bunlded latitudes. What could
us all become if we just catch the subway
into the dense city for an hour to make like a tree
full of wet birds, avoiding the problems from
everywhere, maybe carrying a little snack
in your purse with a glaze of rose.