The tiny Buddhas are wailing in full force tonight. I can hear them in the jungle, calling for Ganesha their master. But Ganesha is busy. He’s making goo-goo eyes at a pretty, young dibbler in the McDonalds next door. He’s ordering two McBuddhas® and some ghee in milk. I think he’s hoping to score.
Meanwhile, I’m laying here with a pillow over my head, trying to sleep. The tiny Buddhas are fucking deafening. The pairing of incessant wailing with that rusty sound from my neighbors’ bedroom window has become a serious contender for ‘Best Worst Lullaby’ at this year’s Grammys.