“Holy flowers floating in the air, were all these tired faces in the dawn of Jazz America.”
“And suddenly it smelled like someone forgot to turn on the gravity. The air was so fresh and light you could practically float on it. Flowers were everywhere, all of them bursting with color.”
“How I long to seeamong dawn flowers,the face of God.”
“All the male faces in the room turned to me as if they were flowers and I the sun.”
“America is a melting pot, the people at the bottom get burned while all the scum floats to the top.”
“I continued, “The painting shows this fish with a big eye and a halo, floating in air, and underneath the fish are all these Native Americans having sex.” “What? What does that have to do with Custer’s Last Stand?” “Well, the painting is titled, Holy Mackerel, Look at All Those Fucking Indians.”