Pinky May Have to Have the "S" Removed

Pinky just saw a billboard that advertised tattoo removal for $49 per inch. It shouldn't cost more than $38.75.

Diablo Inc.'s Quality Contol Factory

Here all the insect parts and pubic hairs are removed from the pages of freshly printed books. Happy reading.

Pinky's Prerogative

Like God in the old testament, Pinky reserves the right to change his mind. Several hundred blog entries ago, Pinky set forth his treatise on only looking at the bottom 6 inches of any painting. He stands by this philosophy unless there is meat in the painting (or an image of the Pinkster himself).

Dinnertime at Pinky's

From God's Mouth to Pinky's Ears

Pinky's Been Having Zoo Nightmares Again

Pinky's Impending Death

Pinky's planning a simple funeral and a nondescript tombstone. There will be only one marble New Yorker strewn on the marble bedside.

Evil Ruminations

Unlike Miss Love’s cow story from last week, this story doesn’t have a happy ending. But unlike Miss Love’s, there is evil, salvation, and disgusting rumen fluid.

Thursday evening after Pinky and Miss Love had arrived at the State Fair of Texas with their ten zebu, a friend from Louisiana noticed his prize bull was starting to bloat. After a couple of hours of trying baking soda and a tube down his throat into his rumen to relieve the pressure, he was still bloating bigger and bigger like a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade Balloon gone bad. With directions from a vet over the telephone, one of the cow guys poked a large needle in his left side. The needle was too small and not much air was coming out. The vet suggested blowing a little on the needle to clear it out. This duty fell to Pinky. While waiting for the emergency vet to show up, Pinky blew into the needle every few minutes for over an hour. Of course, when the air hissed out of the needle, so did some rumen fluid. Now the rumen is the first section of the cow’s stomach where food goes and sloshes around a bit, then is regurgitated back up and chewed some more. Pinky kinda likes the smell of that cow’s cud and the natural burps that go along with it. What he didn’t realize was that cud must actually be good compared to what stays in the rumen which can only be described as evil. And by evil he means pure-d demonic hellish hate in gaseous and foamy dribble form. This evil is what Pinky had on his lips for over an hour. As he wiggled the needle around and got it in an especially helpful position, some of this demon sperm would sputter out onto his glasses. He had to hold the needle in place and his fingers were all pruney from this wicked liquid. Later he made Miss Love smell his breath (she didn’t flinch)—but when he made her smell his fingers, she practically swooned with disgust. Several small children also smelled Pinky’s fingers—they will probably recall this smell on their own deathbed.

If Miss Love were telling the story, there would be many descriptive passages about the vet tubing the bull, Pinky’s heroic massage of the stomach at the vet’s direction, and the tears of the owners. But Pinky is less interested in the plot than in his early morning visions. Pinky volunteered to spend the night with the bull, because the owner was too distraught to render more tubing and needling relief if needed through the night. The bull seemed a bit better, and he and Pinky did lots of walking and talking. (Apparently you sleep off the flu, but walk off the bloat.) Pinky found himself lowing to the bull in a soft deep hum which seemed to calm him. About 3AM Pinky went into the stall so he could keep a closer eye on the bull. There was a bare dim light over the hall, but the stall was shadowy and quiet. The wooden slats were painted Pinky’s favorite color of pistachio green. The stall floor was red sand. Pinky sat with the bull’s head on his lap. He realized he had never asked if the bull was tame enough for this. When the bull was standing, Pinky had an odd ant’s eye view of this looming swollen beast. Pinky was stretched out on the floor—head propped against the worn wooden wall.

Then, like an apparition, Carravaggio’s Conversion on the Way to Damascus, popped into Pinky’s head. The similarity between this painting and what he was seeing was uncanny. The horse had become a bull, but the lighting was the same. The distressed bloated bull could at anytime step on him. Pinky just mooed some more and hoped that the bull would continue to deflate. Pinky felt calm and peaceful to know he and the bull were, for the moment, safe.

By dawn, the bull seemed better, but Pinky thinks the evil rumen juice simply got the best of him. By afternoon, the vet had all involved (and visiting artist, Mark Ross) roll the worsening bull on his back to try to shake the evil loose. But sadly, the bull died that afternoon.

Pinky and Nadine Often Spend Hours on End Stalking Mopeds Together

Pinky Usually Tries to Stay Out of Politics

Not Nadine

As Pinky was rummaging through Nadine's desk yesterday (he was looking for some cuff links she stole from him), he found this picture she is certainly planning to use for her annual Christmas card. This is not Nadine. Pinky has conveniently numbered the clues that prove beyond a reasonable doubt that this is not Nadine.

The 682nd Eye of God

The Birth of Pinky Diablo (Painted by Botticelli)

Real Men Prey

Letter to Jesus

Dear Jesus, Forgive our country for getting ready to elect a vice-president who doesn't like polar bears. I guess all those white bears will look good in heaven, however. If you need help taking care of them, feel free to take me before my time--I have zoo keeping experience. Love, Pinky Diablo

Pink Worry

Is the Diablo family story of Pinky's birth a lie? Was he not born in a hurricane after all? Pinky recently found this photograph hidden in Pableau X's underwear drawer with a note pinned to it:"Do not let Pinky see!!!!!" Pinky had once heard that his dear Papa had been a petroleum engineer before becoming a poet. Pinky turned the note over and on the back was written: "After creating such a monstrosity, I must forsake this devilish career they call science." At least Pinky knows now why he has such a fascination with jars.

Reptilian Old Testament

And God pulled one of Adam's 674 ribs and created Eve as a companion for him. God said, "Children, find the tree of knowledge and eat the fruit from it and ye shall have dominion over all the creatures of the world." But when Eve slithered over t0 the tree, there was a fat, naked human woman vomiting upon the ground from eating all the fruit. Eve said, "You disgusting bitch, look what you've done to us now. I put a curse of you and your children and your children's children. Henceforth you will live on Wal-Mart packaged food and be even more obese and more stupid" Adam and Eve left the Garden of Eden and crawled under a rock, determined to bite every human they saw henceforth.

Poor Nadine

Nadine has moved to the country. She has day dreamed about owning horses all her life, but now she has spent all her money on her new (well, almost new) single-wide. Luckily, she is good with paper-mache and hot glue.

Every 100 years angels shed their skins. They start out like moist spring roll wrappers (but larger and fishier), but as they fall slowly earthwards, they shrivel and dry. Most are turned to dust before landing. Only a rare few have survived the month long fall from heavenly grace. Anyone who finds one is sure to be most unlucky.

A Sad Fascination

Little Arnoldina wasn't interested in anything except horse apples. As a young child this was somewhat amusing to her family, but in her later years it became a burden to them.