The Padukah Poets, or Lay Off My Ruby Padukas

Some days get really dumb, so you got to get down there with them and switch your brain off. I did that a long time ago and never remembered to switch it back on. I wonder if the people of Paducah, Kentucky, know their city is named after a pair of Indian footwear. As I was studying Padukah and the five Holy Cities of comedy: Padukah, Sheboygan, Chemung, Kokomo, and Cucamonga, I learned there is a Padukah Society of Outsider Poets that meets every September in one of the five Holy Cities to discuss the state of Outsider Poetry. It was late Sunday night, then again Thursday night when Knile Davis scored a touchdown despite not being any part of the game plan that I knew I was totally and irrevocably fucked no matter what I do or say in this life, so I set out to find some sort of higher power that would explain why such things happen. I chanced upon the Paduka Poets by accident on the road I was traveling to avoid the Padukah Poets. 

You can do anything, but lay off my ruby padukas

I went to Wrigley Field this Tuesday to see AC/DC, and they were old, and I was old, and the beer was fifteen dollars, and my ears were ringing, and I hadn't been there in 35 years. The last time I was there I saw Jerry Martin hit two home runs over the left field wall while listening to Ronnie Woo a few rows behind us yell "woo, woo, woo woo woo" the entire game. 

Back to these so-called Padukah Poets. I'm sort of on board with their message of first do no poetry, but it makes for dull meetings. Unless you got some of these golden ruby-encrusted padukas. 

I've been to Paducah. By now I've been to all of the Holy Cities of American Comedy except Sheboygan. You see, there's no reason anyone in America would even be playing Knile Davis on their fantasy team, unless they sucked at fantasy football, but the irony is since he was on this person's team and the game was almost over I knew as soon as he took the field what the Universe had in store for me. It was then I had a vision The Padukah Poets were in my future. And iced cream. Because even if you don't care about fantasy football, if I were to explain to you there may not have been another fantasy team in America where someone was so bad that they had played Knile Davis, then he scored a touchdown, you might come to understand paduka. 

Don't try, don't try, don't try.

And you should have

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