if you really want to get down to lead poisoning.
After receiving his M.D. in Carnage,
Dr. Carl started his own practice . . .
practicing his sadistic techniques on
anyone who would come in the front door,
be they man, ape, woman, child, pinky finger,
or Pinky Tuscadero (goddamn you Fonzie!)
He advertised in little local rags,
with a picture of his smiling, flawless
face and gentle, masculine hands, saying,
"Come on in. See Dr. Carl. I'll cure what ails you."
And they did, and he did.
Cured them all the way into shallow graves
out back of his house of horrors.
Till the law got wise, started sniffing around
Carl's axe-shack of love and biohazard.
Carl took to the hills, and he's been on the run
ever since.
I never pass judgment on ol' Carl, who's grown out
a beard now, and passes his time here and there
in the malls of small cities or along their recently
renovated riverfront plazas, passing out fliers advertising
love and fun
and new attractions, he's just trying to earn an honest
buck, and what business is it of mine?
Is he a damn good man? Hell no.
He's a devil in fleshtones, and in tribute,
I present some of examples of my terrible artwork
called "Themes on Dr. Carl's Something Something."
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