front row center



In Bonn we trust. (All photos by and copyrighted by Forrest Pasky.)


I was sitting in the front row at the AC/DC concert with President Kennedy.

Some lady was yammering on in a holier-than-though tone.

President Kennedy turned to me and said:

“What a bitch, she needs to get laid.”

Richard Nixon sitting on my other side frowned and said:

“That’s my wife.”

Presiden Kennedy:“Oh, please forgive me sir.”

Then the JFK turned to me:

“What a prick, both those assholes need to get laid!!!”


Hangin’ with Angus in high school.







I like my brain.

Sometimes I even take it out from under its

dust cover and use it.

And that’s what my brain likes about me.

I don’t over use it.

Or overwork it.

Or risk wearing it out.

My brain demands the same of me.


That’s why we’re mutually compatible.

My brain has accepted me for who I am

and doesn’t waste a lot of time trying

to change me.

Or improve me.

My brain is smart.

Me and my brain are like two best friends

from different sides of the track

who have never met.

Only there’s always a train running on that

track, so there’s very little chance we’ll ever

actually meet.

But we’re best friends just the same.

That’s how friendship works.

Sometime me and my brain go for long walks

on the beach.

We stare up at the stars.

We are like pen pals.

The other day a thought occurred to me,

but my brain quickly shut it down.

Like a roommate who prevents you from making

balloon animals out of dynamite after an all-night

drinking binge.

My brain cares.

Right now I have my brain out

and we are enjoying watching a “lava lamp” together.

The lava flips like a giant florescent sea slug

that lives on the bottom of the ocean

making both me and my brain feel small.

It is moments like this that I am most content.

You’re sitting there at the table with your brain

with a bowl of soup.

Butternut squash.

Infinitely happy that God has made it just for you,

this thing called life.


dead snake day at work

snanke10 snake4 snakemusic snakedance  snake2 snake3


I’m not the kind of person that typically cares about things.
When someone says…
“Oh my God the tank holding all the snake poison just exploded.”

My reaction: “Were any snakes killed?”
Someone: “Yes. All of them.”

Me:”Does anyone know what the special is in the cafeteria today?”

That morning I inadvertently sent 10, 000 copies
of my resume to the printer at work.
My boss was furious and had to use the other printer
to print his resume.

When the hotdog wagon exploded
outside the front lobby many people cried.
Others took it as an opportunity to steal mustard.

After lunch, I again I inadvertently sent 10, 000 copies
of my resume to the printer at work.
My boss was furious as that printer could
also being used to photocopy one’s ass
and he had to go to another printer.

Somebody thought it would be funny to cover
some of the dead snakes with mustard.
Actually, I guess it was pretty funny.

Later that afternoon, I again inadvertently sent 10, 000 copies
of my resume to the printer at work.

My boss was furious as he needed more photocopies of his ass.
He was wearing 2 dead snakes covered with mustard as slippers.

Before going home I found a partially dead snake.


To be on the safe side I put the snake in a box on my boss’s desk
that had some cryptic note saying: “Happy Anniversary Honey.”

I had been carrying my smart phone around in my pocket all day
and I wanted to see if by chance I had taken any good pictures
of the inside of my pocket.

When I started to scroll through the pictures
I inadvertently sent 10,000 copies of my resume to the printer.

I had to wait for my printouts as my boss had gotten
to the printer first to photocopy his ass.





Here I am right now just floating.
Floating in space.
Like a piece of cheese.
In a pool or on a cloud.
Or in a pool full of clouds.
Or in the ocean.
Or in an ocean made of clouds in a pool.

Now a shark is biting me.
Biting my hand.
The hand that’s holding a piece of cheese.
How did he get up in the clouds?
Or in this ocean or pool?
Or place that serves cheese?

I tie him up in a knot with my blanket.
Like a tourniquet.
I slowly squeeze him until he sleeps
breathing peacefully.
Now I’m x-raying him.
There’s a metal toy train inside of him.
Apparently he likes children.
And cheese




I went to the zoo.

I looked into the badger pen.

There was a badger.

He was just standing there.

Looking up to me.

All badger like.

Then another badger came up to him

And began to badger him.

To bother him incessantly.

Could he borrow his tooth brush?

Would he do his taxes?

Did he have some spare sun tan lotion?

A badger “badgering” another badger.

I couldn’t believe my eyes.

So I put a pirate patch over each eye.

Me: “Arrrrrr. All better.”



The American Cat Prison



I went to the cat prison.
I had a visit through a thick piece of glass with a cat
who had become my pen pal.
They recorded our conversation.
They recorded all the conversations.
They sounded mostly like a person talking to himself
with a lot of meowing going on in the background.
I baked a cake with a file in it,
but my cat pen pal wanted cat food.
Not the dry cat food, but the wet cat food.
And not the generic store brand cat food,
but the one served in small cans with chicken gravy,
and not the regular chicken gravy,
but the chicken gravy with cheese.
And heavy on the gravy.
And you got the small cans, right?
Not the medium-sized cans?
On the medium cans they skimp on the gravy.
The next weekend I went to the mouse prison.
That weekend a number of escapees were reported.
It was on all the news.
The following weekend I went back to the cat prison.
All the escapees from the mouse prison
were apprehended a couple days later,
after they were digested.


50mm sniper