Teatro Triste del Clown

First, let me just say that fields are harvested. The idea that part of my body could be harvested makes me profoundly unhappy. I prefer to use the phrase marrow suckin’. As a matter of fact, I go around saying marrow suckin’ in a rhythm all day.

Marrow suckin’
Marrow suckin’
Marrow suckin’

It sounds like the rhythm track to a Laurie Anderson song if you do it right.

I found two decent pictures of marrow suckin’. The first is kind gruesome if you are the sort of person who really hates enormous needles filled with marrow.

Nice!

I like this second image better, though. This doctor, not content with marrow suckin’, has pulled down the sheet a little bit so as to get a good view of the donor’s ass.

I hope I get this doctor. I like to work with somebody who finds pleasure in what they do. Maybe I can get them to give me an enema as long as I’m in that position. Now, chant along with me!

Marrow suckin’
Marrow suckin’
Marrow suckin’