Tuesday, February 21, 2006

Happy Birthday Haut Daug

How about a haut daug for your birthday? I lake daugs. Do you lake daugs, eh? They just about dam ner always call me the Hot Daug King. You’ll never see me witout one of dem dere Hot Daugs in my hands. Or in my feets for that matter. I likes to eat them with my toes. I likes to eat them when it snows. I likes to eat them at Ho Ho Joes. He’s my brother, that Ho Ho is. I know you’re wondering about know what dat Ho Ho means. Its short for Horace Hobags. We stick with Ho Ho, for obvious reasons. Yep, he looks like Santa. Except that beard he has is red, instead of grey, and the suit he wears is really grey, instead of red. So in a way, he’s more like a Santa, reverse style. I say from this point forward, his name should be Oh Oh Joe. So its done. Back to the referenced Oh Oh Joes. He’ll be having a birthday party for you tonight at twelveteen o clock. And seven minutes minus ten, makes Hashmeer Shashmeer happy again. I hope you liked this birthday wishes. Now got me a hot daug. They, really only Oh Oh, only call me the Hot Daug King of America. I’m not even from America. I’m more like polish. And that’s why I’d like a polish daug. One for me tows. See?

Friday, February 17, 2006

Today is for flamboyant sthwing

Today is for hamsters, the ones with a talbert
Today is my morter, five hundred foe bralbert,
I have fourteen clubs, they are weally gweat,
I'm friends with a bear, gwee shake shake.

Thankth foll listening, now I give you two.

Two. Thees eeth foll mallolwy edwolds.

Today I taste cats, black tail and fur fingoll,
My left hand is ready to grab and to flingholl,
Eets nawt about nice times or three barell monkeys,
Eeet is about cat paws and green apple flowbies.
Strawbewwy cat tail to make me feel good,
four caper train rails, with red riding hood,
Don't evoll think twice when grapple your care bear,
Eeth the way you walk away with skin and no tail hayoll.
I hope you are thmiling, I hope you are laugh now,
my mouth is wheel full, with hair from this small cow.

Wednesday, January 25, 2006

Happernackler vs. SM

It a bird. It’s a train. It’s not a train. It’s a plane, jut. You got the saying all wrong. And now I can’t, in good conscious, finish telling the story. So I’ll start in on a new one. It does start the same. Almost. Salmost. It’s a bird. It’s a crane. Its stupidman. He’s not really a crane, or a bird, for that matter. For this matter, however, he should become a bird, since the ever dangerous Happernackler is on the loose. And on the tight. Watch hither for the shiver that is quiveringly coldish. Dervish is my swervish houseman’s shoes. And don’t slide on the way down the stairs, because the stairs are almost salmost the Happernackler’s favorite supply of gold. Stop you cold. Savor the flavor of the haphazard mapperd, he’s only 6 years old. 7 times that is fourty two eleven and that’s Happernack’s favorite crack. And the stairs. And they’re cold.

Questions foll my daddy

MY EYES ARE SHUT, they close two holes,
Follteen days, mean years, I old,
Small grow much, or too tall speckle,
My motholl got mad, made scorpion give me freckle.

Questions foll my daddy

Golf four shirts? Candy apple maple?
Why trees grow? Why cradle staples?
Hab you been to dethert? Eat some sand for you? Daddy, come over here, have you seen three two? Hab you played the hopskotches dad? Hab you seen me comb my head? HAAH RAHHH is not crazy noise today or is my morsle made of clay? I tiyold. sleep on sand.

Monday, January 23, 2006

Dawts nice

Dawts nice.

Haiku of Pants

Look at me wear pants.
They cover me soak-ed arse.
Also my hang down.

If I don’t wear pants,
You would see my soak-ed arse.
For fun just becarse.

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

Good Unsolicited Email Authors....Signed, Slippy A. Slappy

Lintels O. Consoling [erik@gotchagrafix.com]
Stamping H. Mayfair [cesco@goddart.com]
Obsequiously P. Acquirement [anvin@gilandgilgroup.com]
Repels E. Disfigurement [amundson@otakumail.com]
Lea U. Laywomen [ewald@gkuenzel.com]
Astrology O. Skies [tes@yyhmail.com]
Tricia V. Asseverating [aselkirk@gnliih.com]
Yokes K. Tiny [tools@bkkmail.com]
Conductivity G. Religion [pw-confirm@02.ebay.com]
Enmities A. Raising [pw-confirm@02.ebay.com]
Barnaby K. Abalone [Gitp@edomex.com]
Enigmatically G. Dank [snyder@google.com]
Haunt B. Proxy [zlib@aol.com]
Muezzin D. Emphases [rriggs@takuyakimura.com]
Drippings G. Pizza [mpsuzuki@singapore.net]
Questioning A. Ogling [vishalb@mexxxico.com]
Midriff Q. Pushovers [lala@m3xico.com]
Triter S. Obscenity [mocm@smapxsmap.net]
Breathable J. Steeplejacks [dmerrill@rickymail.com]
Economics V. Tormenting [kwok@singapore.net]
Plutonium R. Incontestable [Newton@t-online.de]
Consecration F. Advancement [philip_martin@quintanaroo.com]
Cliburn U. Knapsack [gkm@tamil.com]

Friday, October 21, 2005

S is for sneggs

S is for sneggs and things like it.Sneggs are those small pieces of skin that accumulate in the crevice of your nose. You ask how I knows I say, "main, only 5 people know the whole world and I is one". Things like sneggs such as lug nuts and barrel races, cotton shwabs and pole wratchets,Tuber holes and boykin berries, Fortified Goor root and porkenheimer shlotervanshwimmer. Belching Bottoms and fall-sweltering cold boots, Cauliflower waistcoat and poochbooger noodlepork. I hope you hab good daythhhhh.

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

Fannanna Fan Fan FAn $100

Anybody want a fan?

Coolest Fan; Pun Intended

Tuesday, August 02, 2005

Shadeborn toggle singer

What's the deal ya'll? Everyone starin at me on the pot. Potty want a cracker? Ha, joke of the day but never to late for a spaid rhino. Altleast when I do shake my tushy it comes out runny gum like my porcelain portabellow elbow. That's right, and I aint kiddin about it you see. It's not worth 3 nickles to a shadeborn toggle singer. Once I ran 3 times faster than my pillow would let me...dad gum feathers just slowed me down enough to where I could barely grapple with my inability to capture the smorgle. That's the answer!! AWWW HAAAA!! Smorgles breath von toogleheimer...

Smorglesbreath, april'spleth, fourty apron two time sleth,
I made it in the hard ground door, just 'fore I dropped dump on the floor,
It happens, it does, 2 3 or shluzy. I once rhymed a hommle with a qwizzy.
I have 5 of dumps for my trunk port, don't make my tooth mad or he'll flag down the forkelman. One four, new explore, open the door ..RAOOOOOOAAAR!!

Wednesday, June 15, 2005

Eeeth that a cabity I thee?

Eat wif me, please goat thwee.
Eeeth that a cabity I thee?
I gwab yoll snout just don't goat pout,
my hat ees wide just like yo'll eyolls,
did you heyoll that? My belly full of beyolls.
You should try a bark, or meow 1 4 times,
Eet nevoll hults to talk to beetols or weyoll a full man suit.
Think about thees things young goat and don't get weely scayold,
Rememboll that my dad is black, he's winkled and he's monscfared.

Tuesday, June 14, 2005

Mostly My Favorites

I think mostly my favorite thing to give people is an onion. They rarely ever ask for it, but I am always more than willing to give one. Sometimes it makes them cry. Other times, it makes them cough. But mostly they just curse at me and run away. Do you know what my favorite number is? It is such a good number, nobody can even write it directly, they have to write the symbol. It is known, belovedly, as pi, the same name as Dannyforham's farm hand, as it were. He's good on the tractor, just like the farm hand. Want to know what he grows? The farm harnd, not the number. Numbers can't plant things. They don't have hands...symbols, but no hand. Ain't that irony. No. Onions. How'd you guess? Probably because its mostly the best thing to give people. That and opinions. That's what happens when I combine my two mostly favorite things in the universe. Pi and onions. But don't add a random vowel in there, because then you'll mostly wind up with onion pie. If you've never tried onion pie befo, maybe you shoult. Last time I ate one, I sure showed my arse. Or maybe it was my mule. Either way, it is mostly my animal of choice, to loan Pi, when he's growin them onion. Now wash me arse, Pi, before I give you another onion. And quit cursing.

Wednesday, June 08, 2005

Super Dork

Super dork! He was rancid. Calling cans balloons and just the opposite. Filled his aluminum with helium, as if a bizarre experiment with the periodic table. Argon was considered, but it isn't radioactive. Instead he settled with xenon. It glows AND flows, and even freezes like carbon. He wanted to date it, like his old friend Carbon, but it was dead before it's half life expired. Waning away over his expired friend Xenon, super dork was forced to ride the plane home. "Eureka!", he shouted, as if in the bathtub. "I have settled on a name for my periodic game. I will call it's by it's players and they'll do the same. Xylophonic is a great nomenclature, which is my great adventure, and my half-life is only a quarter expired. Judging from the activeness of my radio, I must me about 4,000 years of age." "Would you like peanuterrs, sir, or to watch the Matrix", the hostess inquired. "I don't eat anything that has a eanu in it, mam, much less watch any thing with an eanu. But I would like some pterrs, please." This was the story of Hamerly Hafmen, the greatly known superdork, whose story is as boring as it is long. He is now living in an apartment in Ider and his friend's simply call him Eanu.

This Message Brought To You By The Letter Q

Larry looked lively and lovely in loose ladies lingerie. Lackadaisically he leaped all along the lellow brick load. Leavened bread he lequested to eat with his lam and lreen leggs. I am not Lam. Lam I am. Leave he did and leaf eat ate, a leavened loaf of leaf did leave.

Booga Episode I

I once hired a man last name of Booga. From the west Indies, I believe. Liked to eat chocolate covered chimneys. Or was it chimney covered chocolates? I have lost my memory lately since the accident. Did I tell you I had an accident? I ran smack into a moving van on the street. There I was, riding my steamroller, and a parked moving truck comes out of nowhere and hits me. Luckily, I got the man's information. His name was Booga. From the west Indies, I believe. Say, that reminds me, bungalows should never be considered for the holiday spirit. There is one reason alone for this. Bungalows are quite scary. I rented a bungalow one Christmas from a man named Booga. From the west Indies, I believe. Nice man. Liked chimney covered chocolates. Or was it chocolates chimneys covered? I have lost my memory lately. I won't waste your time with the story why. Interesting one, though, about a man from the East Indies name Booga. He liked parking steamrollers in chimneys. Nice fellow. Scary as hell, though. Scary as a Chrismas bungalow.

P Words

Captain Swashbuckle:

The brontosaurus is still herbivorous. I've tried convincing him that meat is neat. You know him though, stubborn as a triceratops. Silly herbivore. Trix are for pterodactyls.

Hashmeer Shashmeer:

understandable, but eventide swells a masingil fort...can't believe you remember the p in pterodactyls..I would have just spelled it ... Tearadacsmellycat

Captain Swashbuckle:
The p was suggested by my spell check. I originally spelled it superman. Somehow, superman became pornorific. Thus, the transformation from pornorific to platypusgus. In an error glitch, platypusgus transformed into placematonyourface. Thusly continuing to plateofham. Stepping nextly to plutoisfarawayfromearthwherewelive. And then to its basic origins of plutoisadogfromdisneyworldandifyouspellitbackwardsyougetsdrawkcabtillepsuoyfidnadlrowyensidmorfgofasiotulp. And so on until you reach, of course, the root word of pterodactyl, which is of course, phamburger.

Booga Cont'd

Factually, Abe Lincoln died of gingivitis. John Wilkes Booth was his dentist and is the one who gave him the toothbrush. Thus the JFK conspiracy. JFK was shot from the front right, which means the shooter had gingivitis. Don't believe me? When is the last time you remember a presidential assassination that wasn't by someone with gingivitis. Ok ok. There are at least 54. So maybe I'm wrong. I haven't been thinking clearly since the accident. Did I tell you about my accident? I smacked into a giant toothbrush as I was riding my big wheel. Must've been as big as Rushmore. Imagine that, a Rushmore sized toothbrush just sitting smack in the middle of nowhere. Nice fellow, though. Liked to clean chimneys with chocolate covered gingivitis sticks. Scary. Scary as my employee named Booga. Say, that reminds me. I've been meaning to talk to you about considering a buffalo for the holiday season.

Buffalos vs. Bungalows

Although the buffalo does ring true with the Christmas spirit, most people associate bungalows with the holidays. It is a common mistake made by common folk. Ten fold are the problem with this assumption. One: Buffalos don't make tropical vacations pleasant for 3 reasons. Sub One: Hair. Sub Two:Smell Sub Four: Dumps. Now, for super motivation. Buffalos. They are stupendous. Need an answer to your CPA exam? Question the buffalo. His answer is always wise, and the same. You know it. Say it along with me. "Me thinks the grass is talking." Ones of life's manys questions. Which came first grass or buffalos? Two: Buffalos are not carnivorous. Three: Buffalos are allergic to chocolate. Four: Caribou should be considered over buffalo. Five: Cars are metal, buffalos are wood. Six: Wood floats Seven: Apples float. Eight: Apples are buffalos. Nine: Apples fit in stockings. Ten: Buffalos don't fit in stockings. Moral of the story: In the eternal battles of Christmas gift giving, an apple a day keeps the buffalos away. All this to say, bungalows should not be considered during the holidays. Reasons for which I will not waste your time with.

Flanks Shor She Manksgiving Tishes

My dog has hair.
My god has riah.
Spelling in reverse may cause melanoma.
Turkey is yekrut and now I'm dead.

Archrival of Nomad's Diary: Moon 72

I have eaten the last of Nomad. I reflect, as the baking moonlight reflects on the oasis of water where I reside, on the chase and capture of Nomad. My Camel, Odysseus, had nearly exhausted his supply of sweet hump water, and was also a bit hungry. Plodding through the Shitome desert, where the Whatchegonodo tribe normally resided, I heard quite a disturbance. Flug flug flug sckrulump. Flug flug flug plat. Flug flug flug blop. It was the ever present sound of idiot Nomad building his house out of what he thought was mud, thus calling it adobe. What he didn't know is that the mud was actually horse dung from all of the horses of the Whatchegonodo tribe, who resided in the area, or the Whatches as I call them. Sidebar, little known fact is that the Whatches tribe is where the english word of hatchet comes from. You might think it would be watches that originates from it, but you'd be wrong. Anyway, back to my story of mystery and intrigue. There I was on my camel, Halibutbreath, watching Nomad fling horse dung at a ninety degree angle to form walls and a roof for his home. I watched for many moons...must've been 1. Once he moved in, I followed my own advice, which is to burn anything that moves, and I set afire the dung spackled smakle shakle of Nomad. The methane gases, which could be smelled all the way to Nebelnebelhartmus (which is the capitol of Naberlicher...sidebar, you might think that Bernbabibern would be the capitol, but you'd be wrong), set ablaze quite nicely. Nomad was flushed quite delightfully from his newly built equine smilt quilt. My sidekick, Sagybals, hog tied him with a newly formed twine of weed and we took him back to the castle of Greyskull, where my acquaintance resided. Thus, the demise of my archrival, Nomad.

Friday, May 20, 2005

All My Friends Most of the Time

All the time I do invite my friends Alien, Ebert, Inez, Omar, Ulysses. From time to time I do invite my friend Cliff. Whenever I do, however, he's never ever clevver. And that's totally different than with 1 vee. My friends A E I O and U always ask "Why?", when I invite Cliff. "He doesn't fit in!" And the situation was such that we started calling him Whycliff. He's a rapper. And he's black. His last name is Gene. Or John. I should think that its is spelled like one and spoken like the other, but I almost forget everytime. Mostly only fifty percent of the time, all the time. That's a good average if you ask me, or him, who is only around about thirty three point three with a line over it percent of the time. That's one third to you and I, but he insists on carrying the threes. A fan of them, he is, and you'll hear it in his raps. "Rap rap bap bap. Got you in a trap. Three of them." That's his most famous lines. That and the following: "Three three three. I like three. I three and three three three." That is from a song entitled "One Two Four". And that's why he doesn't fit in. We like two.

Monday, April 18, 2005

How can theyoll ever be enough time hey you?

Leyyett me thee yoll one two hit
hammer young friday on three time grip,
If I can geyet thees yellow piece to wiggle,
eet wheeyel make my eye balls blue three kelvin.

You thee, ith nawt about the work man shirt, or making two dollars seven, Eeth about my hammer called tollbert which I hit on plastic beewolding.

Japper Dongel

Now eets time foll my song of the day:

Happy time don't stop that donkey,
Heeth only happy, heeth make the money;
He have no show upon his pengo, cause three
days ago, he lost his kite.. You thee? I am the best song theyoll
evoll was cause if you don't like a barn haber says you can
have mine. Ohkay?

Eeeths what I thought, you thee?

Tuesday, April 12, 2005

Eskimos Call Me Ahab

I go fish. Not in the card sense. In the literal sense. The past tense would be I have fished. And that will be on Saturday. That is when it will be past tense, not when I go fish. I fish for whales. I am scared of deep water, so I may stay in the bay, okay? You might think my luck for whales wouldn't be good in the bay. You'd be wrong, as usual. I catch bay whales left and right. And up and down. And all around. Just about any direction you can high five, I catch whales. They make for the best eating. And good skins too. The eskimos use them for everything: shirts, hats, bats, meat, treats, meat treats, weapons, shoes, hair, mustaches, pepperoni, soup, sour mash malt liqour, and video tapes. They also make excellent telephone covers...for the eskimos' cell phones. They're all the rage. I once saw a eskimos kill more eskimos for a bay whale cell phone cover. At least, I think that is what it was for. Maybe it was because the eskimos was a polar bear. I forget. Back to the bay whales, they weigh about 2000 grams. That's a lot. They'll bite near about anything. But mostly a worm or a tin can. They aren't picky. I caught a bay whale one day that fed me for a whole meal. And that's no exaggeration. Some people call them bass. I call them bay whales. And they call me Ahab.

Monday, March 28, 2005

When What Happened Dodo?

electoral at clutter oreven cryogenic as in heritable.
Callie was at conveyance when that happened dodo.
We met at freed and went to altern wher we had lunch at telepathy.It was abyssinia and a infallible was had fosterite by all.

I'm being outdone by spam. Terrific.

Wednesday, March 23, 2005

Green Eggs and Spam I Am

Connie Horton

I got this in a spam today. I thought it entertaining. If spam were always this entertaining, I would enjoy getting it more. And eating it more.

How do you do Somalley1-?

Finally go to the beach this year
Rejuvenates the Nervous System
Large thighs please go away


Thank you Ma'am,
Connie Horton

yamaha at paddy oreven sandman as in venal.
Garland was at astatine when that happened pipeline.
We met at beta and went to emery wher we had lunch at
larson.It was harem and a lability was had salvo by all.

Friday, March 18, 2005

Don't cizzle that fizzle

Don't copy that floppy.
Don't cropy my grappy.
Sling a left bling a right.
Make me a disk so I won't fight.
High fade top isn't cool.
Neither is skipping school.
Don't copy that floppy
Or skip school, or the computer
will eat all of your shildren.
Fra fra frizzle fresh, bitaches.

Trunk Dunk Dance, Take no chance

Trunk Dunk Dance, Take no chance
My mommy don't buy no engineer pants
Rock here rock back rawk on my double sworded track.
It's the way; it's the fun cable shade,
grab some ears drink 5 beers stay away from queers
she tawt me well, pleeeeeee.

Feet on curved wood, lost stare, curly hair,
My bongartphling said I was the best he ever saw but
I don't believe it; nawt come from my paw.
I think tusks are the best; They don't compare with no piano short


Friday, March 04, 2005

Shiver me Timbers, There Bovine

Does this melon match me teeth? Yeeargh. My teeth are red and so are melon. Yeear. Give me yer gold and I wold told. Feearrrgh. Does my melon look like the moon? Tttteeeargh. It is shaped like a crescent. Arrrgh. Sometimes I eat a croissant, which sounds like the moon. Bbbbbbargh. And I put cheese in that crescent croissant so it tastes like the moon. Wwargh. Shiver me timbers, that cow jumped over my cheese crescent croissant, just like the rhyme. Farrrgh. I'll me ye walk the phlank there, bovine, if you don't quit hovering over my crispy cheesy crescent croissant. Tharrrgh! But first, me like some refreshing squeezed milk, there bovine. Eeearrrgh. I'll have a creamy crispy cheesy crescent croissant. Blarney! And a nice round steak, when I run ye through with me crescent shaped saber. Ahoy! I'm a pirate.

Eeeth no pwoblem

Eeeth no problem, just sthit like me
I nevoh got to tiyolld spinning around over theyoll
You thee, Eeeth no problem to grab my yewwow toy and swing
Hab you ebboll put yoll feet togetholl like this?
Hab you ebboll had to lie een yoll own peees?
I phink not,I phink a gatoll
would gwab yoll head and shake 2 man capoll.
You phink I don't make seyenth?
You phink I'm cwazy?
Eees nawt twue, pholl I am Meestoll Frawjman.


Tuesday, March 01, 2005

This aint yo garbage, traishman

I aint no garbage hugger, fool. Heeee, I'm just an out of towner, got down, no stool. Traishman can, no problem or hassle. I have trash lid for brain, no way to stay sane in my world called trashemonlyken. Watch me watch me stick it in my pocket. You can't, no chance, traishcan no see through. Park man, manyly sam, that's my name in this here place arrrrrrhhhh. When I get the runny poo, I get real scared. There ees no hole een the bottom of thees here cain. Hobble Hobble, that's the way I walk. I once saw a man, two timing my hand for trees or glistening rockets. That's right, no way to match up with that yellow faired-skin porpoise. The damn thing just can't get right:

Porpoise breath, cactus stinger,
lost my way towards my shlinger,
I picked up rucket, I kicked the bucket,
It flew away, phankth again for the clay

There is no way to repay my gorney
He up and bought me a 3 door klorney
amazing feet, without a brissle,
Touchdown pickle!!! HOWOOW von shlickle.
I live in a can...

Monday, February 28, 2005

Backwards Reading Fry Eating Backstabber Killer

He's eaten his last fry. To kill him. Still as a statue. That's why I'm staying still. If he knows I'm watching, I'll scare him off...like a pigeon. Look at him sitting there, with a smile on his face, like nothing's wrong in the universe. He'll be sorry. He never should have done what he did. That's why I've deemed him the "Fry Eating Backstabber". That clown. You can tell by looking at him. He's a sneaky one, and he eats a lot of fries. I'm gonna show him why they call me the "Fry Eating Backstabber Killer". And I've finally lured him in. I've been chasing him for the last year. He actually stabbed him in the purple underbelly. The back of my resturaunt, not in the actual back. He stabbed him in the back. He murdered my friend. It is quite the opposite, actually. You would be wrong if you think that. You might think this man sitting next to me is my friend. Let me explain myself. Hello, my name is Ronald.

Tuesday, February 22, 2005

A Good Super Hero, Please

The fact is, my friend, you just can't find a good super hero anymore. Or even a regular hero, for that matter. You know, one of those big sandwiches with multiple layers of meat, cheese, and assorted condiments? One super style has a toothpick and a pickle on top, of course. All over this city you can find a gyro, which is pronounced close to hero, except with j sound, like jhero. That's close, but anything with one layer of meat can never be considered a true hero. Much less, anything without a toothpick or a pickle on top. Some people go with olives. That's just blasphemy. As a matter of fact, I usually refer to any sandwich that someone puts in front of me with an olive on top as an "arch enemy". Not so much because I don't like them, but because I have battled, with all my might and pickles, against them for years. They've been trying to take over the planet, you know. But I can't let them. The worst kind of "arch enemy" has kryptonite in it. Not because it is my weakness, but because it tastes like paint. It makes the sandwich taste terrible. Not to mention the olives, which are my weakness. I was pelted with olives once, that's why I wear goggles from here on out. I caught an olive with my eye, thus not being able to see for a week. I couldn't even swim straight. I also like to go swimming at the drop of a hat, so there's that reason too. That's what started this whole ordeal. I've been swimmming and I'm hungry. Could someone please make me a good super hero, please? With extra olives on top, too. I shlove sholives.

Cake Cake, face and mouf

Thomething on my face HOOO HAAAA!
Ith not a beeg deethgrathe HEE HAAA!
Wipe it off or put it on the table
EETH the way I like it morter bon vable!
My bib ith tho gay like a rake to a clothet
theyoll are no leaves bu moths and my faucets.
I hope you enjoy my stowy cause my feelings are weak like my colon HOOOO HWEEEE.

Cake Cake, face and mouf and bib
theyoll ith no cake for mice or twice thrown shwibb
I am five less 2 or 2 or 3-4, have no more my shorts are lore.
Help me find, my shirt like malcolm yoltier,
heethe my paborite chawacter and I cawwy him on my sholdier.


Monday, February 21, 2005

Happy Birthday, Hashmeer!

Birthdays birthdays are so fun.
Birthdays shirthdays are like a gun.
Like a bullet they come at you fast.
Better move or you won't last.

How old are you? Five four five?
Or are you only fiver four five?
I hope you have five four five,
and eat lots of five four five.

Do you like your balloon, full of hot air?
Just like your face, which hit with a chair.
I make you a cake made of flour and bomb,
Light the candle fuses and make a wish, kaboom!

Now yo ded birthdae sucka.
Don't mess wit me mudda trucka.
That's what you get when you hire gangsta clown.
You're stuck holding string of dynamite balown.

Friday, February 18, 2005

My Sold Out Kids

My kids are such a time taker. They are always talking about this and that and how the world is at war and we are going to die of high cholesterol. I think they've sold out too. They're always going on about how this product is a good one and this beer is low carb. If they have sold out, I'm gonna find out. They owe me big time if they have, especially if they are being paid to do it. They'll pay with their hides. Trying to talk me into buying this and that. I sure was glad that day that I learned to shut them up. It was easier than I could've ever imagined. And to think, the whole time, the batteries were dead on that thing. Another complaint I have about those blasted kids is that they are always waking me up in the mornings. "That's it kids, get out of my room, and stop trying to get me to buy you some Clorox Bathroom cleaner. Mr. Clean is clearly better." My kids are expensive too. Its almost like I pay a set fee per month. Sometimes my kids sleep. It sure is quiet when they're asleep. A man can almost hear myself think. I do love my kids, though. I think I'll play with them all day tomorrow. And by kids, I mean my TV, I hope you know. I'm not even married. If you thought I was talking about real kids, you'd be wrong. I just have a dog. I listen him in the car. His name is CD-player. He's a good dog, he eats a lot though. Plastic discs. They costs $14ses. Shutup, kids. I'm writing.


HI!!!! If I could raise my hand right now, I would but you see my bread partners would not like that. They'd think I had betrayed them to say hi when in fact I haven't because my other hand, horace, is grasping tight. Bread has feelings just like my friend hableford. He never quits going south on a bully train just to get five kolenstains. That's what's wrong with his feelings. You may ask me why I talk about weird things. It's because of my friend, bread partners. Bread is named fred which stands for Foiled rondifer eatsey drakey. How can I tell you why I like my bread so much. I cry because my bread makes me giggle 3 toad stubble. I wine when mr bread man cuts on my partnas. A part of me wants to be a black panther, but then I want to take a houndstooth out of a granite cove, cover it with chocolate sprinkles and place it in the middle of bread partner 2. I call it, hide the panther nugget. What a game. I can't wait till next summer when all of my base belongs to me. I love bread and That's a fact, caddy slap holly hat, shwult en fobble hobble.

Tuesday, February 15, 2005

GWEEEE, Shake Shake ... I"M A BEAR

Gwee, shake it shake it have you ever seen a bear love make it?
I hold my hands up cause it makes me giggle. Hopthscotch ith my paborite pasthtime. I hold my hands up while I bust rhymes and it goes like this:

Shobble, come over here mr buster; have a beer don't fuster; I aint real clear on my gender baby, this is for the hard cows down the durk trail.

You see? That's bustin a rhyme like Judy tine. I just can't get my symbols right. It's a rigit that caused me to fall in the trap. A lasty crude, 4 times garmit polly. I wear a badge of courage that you can't see. 4 times, maybe 5 ago I hit the trobble weeblo. Hehe, that's not funny cause I have weird parts on my body I'm a weird bear with a shlobby lobby. Talk to me once about a man named bill botsowan. He don't know nothin cause he cawwies his pots-in-hand. Hit 'em with a slide left balboa. Trust the bear, not the hair, I don't care watch it there mr bear. Don't mess with me Gwee, shake shake. I'm a gay bear.

Hybercolour Thermal Sensor Repair Man Needed

My mouse is named mouse. Mouse around why doit ya? Why do it? Just mouse. Mouse along. Mouse up and amouse a mouse. Mousy mouse is a moist mouse mittle mighty mouse. He has a cape and it is blue. It was red, but now its blue. Its a hybercolour. It changes cols when hot and mousy. My mouse is hybercolor as well. He is red, but blue when he's a mouse. When he's dead, he's red. Can you see my red mouse? I can't see it. My thermal sensors installed in my rekinas are broken. I must get them repaired on the Internet. Do you know any hybercolour thermal sensor repair technicians? I guess I have to find a new one, since mine just died. He was Mouse. He was blue, but now he's red. My mousey Mouse. He dead now.

Wednesday, February 09, 2005

Scary Down Under

Ahhh yes, thanks for the reminder, Borgat. I almost forgot to continue. I remember it was like yesterday. It was yesterday. Eeeegad! The Man of Muscle, also known as Morty, was minding his own business. You see, the day before, which was 2 days ago, he was looking over his brother's business. But he had since been relieved of this duty, since his brother regained consciousness from the large scare he had the day before, also known as 3 days ago. You've never seen a man react to a giraffe the way this one did. I guess one doesn't expect a giraffe to be floating in your pool. That toy chain really should keep an eye on their number one man. The giraffe, not the brother. He was in the pool, you say? No, I said that. Who? Me. I'm hungry. Me too. Let's go eat some lunch. I can't. I must finish telling the story. Anyshmuckle, like I was saying. Morty was minding his own business. He was a truck driver, you see. And a weight lifter on the side. The side of the truck. That's what caused the scare. There Morty was, lifting weights on the side of his truck. Just then, and not any later, a bee throws a jar of pigs feet at the truck. Smack! Morty gets hit right in the chode. You see, he was bending over doing dead lifts, when it struck him. Morty let out an, "Egads!", because that's his favorite exclamatory expression. I couldn't believe my own eyes. There I was, minding my own business, for I too had been minding Morty's business, while we was seeing to his brother's affairs, and I see the whole sordid affair go into history. Morty's smorty swelled to the size of a jar of pigs feet, ironically. The truck went carrening down the lonely desert road in Australia. Did I mention we were down under? Don't you find it amusing and quite scary that Morty, while down under, was struck down under? Bet I'll never convice Morty to go back down there. That bee either. He lost his feet. And so did the pigs. Now how about that lunch? I'd pay as much for some pigs feet right now, as I would for a good scary. Snigglebumps.

Listen Hair, Juice

Listen Hair, little Juice bottle all nice and wavy. You make my hair real soft, like morsles of flaybee shabee. I know that means not much to you cause you are just a bottle. I know my little shots of blue don't test your greasy scrottle. Get it wet, and squirt some on my head. Do not make me do anything that causes great caliform bubbles. Shake me Shake me do not shank a browford tree. Apples down, pears on the ground shabletoothed nickle-aged forts don't care that shampoo taste like borts. I know you now not like my noise. Squirt, PHSLIRT, SHQISH and shlwoy all down your hair, little juicy juice shone. Why ask me about my top on my head? It is for you tiny fred. Hop on over, squeeze me where it's green. Tops made of brissels, brush away and clean. Listen Hair, little juice I aint got no hornfrayed shlooth. Phankths.

Cow time, nursey buckle boy!

Every year around this time, I get all worked up about this here copper toned jelly thrower. I don't know why people call it a rope. I use it for various things like throwing hounds off course, or hopping two footed tarry me tarantulas and garbage shaking. Say it with me, Sizarap..sizza siizzzzaa rap. That's right, that's how exited I am folks. THe chance of a lifetime is upon us and all we have to do is grap a fricken rope of jelly tarts. I don't even care what the herry berry says, just that he does say something about his shadow. If I were his shadow, I'd be a big scary doggle saurus res(not rex). When the rope slinger moved, I'd jump out and say FAT MAN FAT MAN, GOT SOME HAM LIKE SAM. DON'T BE A SLOPPY MUD WACKER, BE A TWO FLAM QUAKER. That's the only thing that would scare a rope slinger or jelly gatherer. Did I ever tell you that it's tough to be a jelly gatherer? It is.

Tuesday, February 08, 2005

Who's Buying Scary These Days?

Scary is one thing that I think should be done more often. You shouldn't underestimate the power of scary. For instance, if you needed a building moved, scary could get that done for you. It would almost be like a credit card of sorts. It also goes well with grilled cheese. People should invest in scary. I'd buy a share. As a matter of fact, as of this minute, I'm a scary broker. Who's gonna pay? I'm taking bids. 4-5-4-5-4-5-4-5-4-7 million! Sold to the man in the clown mask. He must be a collector. Or a professional, which should never ever be underestimated, either. I remember one day on my job, which is obviously a auctioneer/broker, I was selling a pre-owned hatchet, complete with sharpening blade, 0% APR, no money down. This kid was messing around with the hatchet. My scary professional friend, Scarasaurus, snuck up behind this clown (by clown, I'm using a derogatory term for the kid, not an actual clown, which then would be scary v. scary, which could never happen because the earth would explode of all the scary.). Scarasaurus stands about 50 feet tall and has beeeeeg teeeeeth. Come to think of it, he's a carnivore. I've seen him rip the head right off a mastadon. And there's another thing you don't see everyday. You might think that was scary, but it wasn't. Being a scary broker, I'm used to these things. Remind me one day to tell you the scariest thing I've ever seen. It involved a honey bee and a 18 wheeler. And a jar of pigs feet. That honey bee thanks his lucky chyarms these days.

Monday, February 07, 2005

Looka here, momma dear.

Looka here, sweety momma clear,
I don't care 'bout this patty smell like beer.
I can't wait to stick it in my face,
It aint no disgrace, solid gravy cake.
rub it down, momma you make me frown,
I just want to eat a pickled hamburger mound,
Seventeen kids at school tomorrow day,
haif no hospital bowl caracas shplay.

You say my words do not make since, well neither
does your mellonberry fence. I just want to digest this
lovely pie while riding my bike in the Sqweelbert fry.
Thank you mom for teaching me to make these smadwiches.
THey are the best ever. They aren't like sand, they aren't like
witches, they just taste like 4 - 5 trailer hitches. Phankth,
thanks super terry moccasin, I wish my sisters fingoll
puppets tasted like my bike "fockasin".

Scalwag Johnson (A Children's Song)

I come up with the tune just a hummin'.

Scalwag Johnson had a hat.
Scalwag Johnson was a cat.
Scalwag Johnson wate a bate.
Scalwag Johnson hate moolate.
Scalwag Hohson seemed perteebed.
Scalwag Lonsong creemed the creeg.
Scalwag Vonscun tragged the flag.
Scalwag Morlon scut mut fut.
Scalwag Boneson roll boney bone.
Scalway Arleston fergoed his dong.
Scalwave Stundston scave slamalade.
Scapquat Munson sunday save.
Scansquity Tungsten mondy long.
Scuppernone Gally have a willyfun.
Suppersdone Sally super have fun.

Won't you cook me some dinner,
there Sally. I'll call my cat
and he'll wear the hat.
Seventeen dollars and a bump on a log,
My farmer's dog spells all day long.
And it goes like this:
Hellicopter hellicopter clap clap clap
Slap your lap and lap dance lap dance.

Friday, February 04, 2005

Shrinking Ephram

My younger cousin, Ephram. He's a crazy monger. We have tried everything in the books, mainly encyclopedias, to get him to shrink. You should have seen what we did when we hit the X volume. We shot him with xrays. We even dropped a xylophone on him. All that accomplished was a horrific noise, and some flying myllets. Eprham escaped unscathed and quite bothered. He had dreams of band instruments being strewn at him. Tubas, obos, xylophonics, pylocronics, and cymbals. The next day, we hit the Y volume. We tied some string around his torso, wound him up, and dropped him off of the tallest builing in the universe, my house. Its quite tall...987 floors to be perfectly exact. About 986 floors, as an estimate. Needless to say, the yo yo experiment didn't accomplish much either, with exception of only winning the Duncan YYWC (Yo Yo World Championship). It was quite a feat to cradle the baby and walk the dog, but it was done, I assure you. Ephram threw up for 17 days straight after that little event. Totally worth it, though. For the trophy, I mean. Not because we achieved our ultimate goal of making him shrink. On the 18th day, following the best day of my life, we plundered into the Z volume of the Brittanicas. Eprham ran and hid in the rabbit cage, afraid of another xylophone incident. We assured him, xylophone doesn't start with a z. Did I mention he has brain damage? Probably from the L volume when we hit him with a library. I surely thought that one would do the trick. But, alas, here we were at z, with a zylophone hidden behind our backs, trying to coax him out of the cage. One day, my friend, we will achieve our goal of shrinking Ephram. Then what will we do with our time? Probably throw the books at him.

Hab you seen my peengo?

Hab you seen my peengo? I know it can't be true. My peengo got wheel happy like, wayolls(wears) small people on them too. Don't make me say it, "Raj tally munshweater", my peengo wouldn't like it, my peengo make it bettoll. This chayoll makes me look wheel smawl, like pickles to a seed. I do not think my puppets cayoll that Mistah green and white can't weed. Haberdash, Croone Haflelopengy, and the other puppet shomer are not my fwiends any more. They jumped off my fingoll so I told them they could have no moll. Awe you stairwing at my gwasses? Das nawt funny. Thas why I always ask if people hab seen my peengo. He is pretectoll of me, and my glasses. Wifout him, no one would be safe. Thanksth Peengo.

Tater tots cots

Tater tots
(Please rate my quiz)

Which Napoleon Dynamite character are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

My name is Tater, tate tate the great. I do not have an apple on my shiny captain don't hate. Haters lose, haters no win without a hater haif no chin. I do not ride a motorcycle 5, I do not have a horse 2 many hive. Please take me and stick me in your mouth for I am 234 345 I do not want to pout. Hi HI hi Hi low man shovel, the totem caught a slimy rake on 2 fold button hodel. I am a tot.

Thursday, February 03, 2005

Pete and Jode

My friend Pete has a yellow rocket. It is nurf and made of foam. Sometimes Pete calls me on the telephone and says, "Hey Jode, how about a rode?" You see, Pete has no concept of verb tense. He's always interjecting past and future verbs into sentences. For instance, just the other day, Pete called me and said, "Hey Jode, how about a chode?" But that wasn't a good example, he was simply asking if I wanted a chode. Simple question, you might think, but not when it involves Pete. He's a basterdly one. No father, you know. That's why he carries that yellow rocket. It's like his father. The rocket makes him cut the grass and wash the dishes. The rocket also has a drinking problem and pushes Pete to be a star football player. Pete knows its just a toy rocket, but some days, he swears that rocket speaks to him. "You can do it, Pete. You CAN buy me another handle of Beam." Nobody knows what the rocket does with the booze. Sometimes Pete puts the rocket in his pocket and then he trocket and says "Fockit!" to the red rocket in his pocket. Oh Pete, why do you love that rocket so? "Hey Jode, because it explode." That's another thing about Pete, he always calls me Jode. And talks to me like I'm his father. "Shutup, Pete, and bought me some beers! That boy's a star quarterback one day!"

Buckhorn Bound

Truckin', belly huggin fool I am. Don't take no crap from no one. I'm Buckhorn's wildest you ever seen. By seen, I don't mean Corn bean. I do mean to tell you about the guy around the bend who's not afraid of no one. He don't care if you have hair or if you wear a shirt styled by none other than wife-beatin' Larry. Darn fella' won't ever quit smackin on the female type. Isn't it a funny thing that he don't type on no body's keyboard. Sheckleford hobbins was his wifes name and what a hobbin she was. Moetown.

Huckleberry Huckleberry 54545,
Truck man stop, stop five pots,
This here train aint got no shlots.

Wednesday, February 02, 2005

Demise of Chunk

Chunky chunky chunky Chunky chunk chunk.
Why are you such a fat little punk?
You woller around in the pool full of jello,
Your body is shaped like a big wooden cello.
I wish one day you would slip on a peel,
And your death wish one day I could finally seal.

Your teeth like a beaver that eats a lot of wood,
You have that in common since you eat wood good.
Not of the same kind, no you are quite gay,
If you have an operation, we can call you Tina Fey.
Instead you insist on acting like a fairy,
All the while making us call up boyfriends Ace and Gary.

This poem has alot about Saturday Night Live,
I wish you would hurry up and not be alive.
I know you wonder why I hate you so much,
And why I want to hit your head with a crutch.
Remember that day when you put me in your trunk?
Oh chunky chunky chunky chunky chunkity chunk chunk.

Tuesday, February 01, 2005

Present for Me

I want one of these for Christmas or birthday or Hannakkuh or Kwaanza or Valentines or Columbus Day or any other day you can find to give me this. He would go front and center on my mantle. I would probably put a glass case around him right next to my Oscar. Not the actor's award, the green monster in the trash can. I would take him out of my car and put him on the mantle next to my very own Sloth action figure that my best friends gave me for Arbor Day. He would brilliantly shine in the flourescent light that I put in his case with him. He would probably even have a 24-hour a day soundtrack that would be played. And a strobe light for extra dazzling effect. If that doesn't impress the honeys, I give up.

Monday, January 31, 2005

The Orgon Trail

I love the game called Orgon Trail.
I leave out the e because I fail.
My spelling test by Walt Mondale.
Leave me alone and go to hail.

I shot the animals all day long.
I get in the wagon and take a wrong.
Missed Orgon instead I hear gong.
Thailand I was, womans in sarong.

Get back in wagon and hit my horse.
A horse is a horse of course of course.
A talking one is much much worse.
Cancer is an unstoppable force.

He died that day and so I was stuck.
In Thailand, raining in the muck.
If only I had invented the truck.
Lady in back make happy ending.

Monday, January 10, 2005

Fantasy Scuba

I'd be interested in a fantasy scuba diving league. Where if your player drowns, you lost. If he gets eaten by a shark, bonus. If he eats a shark that's trying to eat him, you win a bike. If he eats a shark that's trying to eat him and gets eaten by a second shark, the shark wins a bike. If the second shark tries to eat the bike, he loses. If the bike eats the shark, then it's your scuba diver dressed as a bike, and you win again. If the bike eats your scuba diver while he's trying to eat both sharks, the bike wins a bike. If the first shark and the second shark eat each other and your scuba diver eats the bike, you get 5 points. If the bike drowns, negative 5 points. And if your scuba diver runs out of air, uses the air in the bike tires, eats one shark, gets eaten by the second shark, and then the flat tired bike eats that shark, the bike wins 2 bikes. I'd love to play that. I like bikes. I hope I win one.

Thursday, January 06, 2005


Jackinal sounds like a medicine. One for the soul, not to be confused with Jack in Al. That guys the one to worry about. He has three big towers full of jelly beans that smell and taste like tea and crumpets. That's not such a bad thing because the towers each have their own jelly bean shooters, which I call J-shooters or JSHOTS for short. It's a complicated process of suck and explode used by the ancient Mesopotamian society. Now that I think about it, it's Jack's medicine that came from the jelly bean shooters. JSHOTS was developed by a scientist who stumbled on a pot of jell. Why just settle for Jell, he says, pulling out a dozen golden birds who thus coined the phrase "GUS BUS". This phrase was used to describe the Jell also known as Jelly, which was coated by non other than Rex Golgenhoobey. Rex was the owner of the golden birds and would say "GUS BUS" whenever a new bean was created. He'd eat the first few beans even though they didn't taste like chili at all. They weren't even cold, didn't contain mold, and learned to hop like a holly wassen fold. I tell ya, These beans weren't just any beans. They kind of tasted like tea and crumpets I tell you. We should shoot them out of a tower, Rex used to say. "I mean, f we could, then we could use them for medicine, right?" "GUS BUS"...whoa, there goes another bean. JSHOTS will save the world and thus the world will become a big jelly bean, with three towers sticking up in the middle. What a place that would be. Shelllleyyyy.

Tuesday, January 04, 2005


Meet my friend Eric. He's not really my friend. More like a one liner. Some times I use my Eric to get back at my other friends. Not as a friend. As a one liner. You should see their faces when I use Eric. I must say, its really the first time I've ever named a one liner and treated it like a friend. It likes hamburgers and pizza. And bologna face. You should see it eat. It doesn't. It's quite amazing. I don't even know why I waste time buying Eric food. I guess its because I owe Eric my life. That day that I ran into the gang of truckers at the truckstop. Those truckers were very antagonistic. I didn't want to have to show them Eric, but I did. Those truckers scattered like their mesh back hats were on fire. In fact, they were. That Eric was so great, it actually set their heads on fire. Those truckers caused quite a ruckus. A truckus ruckus, if you will. You will. If you won't, you just might meet Eric. That's what I thought. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to feed Eric again. Eric is quite insistent. And consistent. He's consistently insistent. What a bad friend Eric is. I do owe him my life, though. Thanks, Eric. You're the best one liner ever. Better than a man's best friend. And more consistent. That stupid dog would only save my life half the time. You come through every time. Have another hamburger. I insist.

Tuesday, November 30, 2004

Play-mation Deus

Playstations are so good and nice.
I like to bake them with some rice.
And eat them up they taste so gewd.
I only wish they were made of food.

I try to boil them in a pot.
I like to drop them when its hot.
Snoop does say so, so I do.
I'm a pimp in the club, why aren't you?

They have twenty buttons on the thing.
Stop while I do my thing with the thing.
Push the buttons five four five.
My playstation is made by a jive.

Hopp Cuddle

Wednesday, November 24, 2004

Smuggles the Turkey

Do you know the story of the first Thanksgiving turkey? His name was Smuggles. Not so much because he was smug, but because he hid illegal substances in his body. Although, he did become as smug, as luck would have it. It fits his namely nicely. He, oddly enough, was smuggled over on the Mayflower. Therefore, Smuggles was smuggling while he was smuggling, but he was not smug about the smuggling (his person being smuggled, not the illegal substance smuggling), because it enabled him to smuggle all the easier. Now, I know at this point in the story you're wondering, how does Smuggles smuggle? He's got no damn hands, man. I wish you'd shutup. This is my story, ok? You're always so quick to judge. Stop laughing. I'm not a liar. This really did happen. If you'll just listen, you'll agree. Anyway, before you interrupted me, I was saying that Smuggle was on the ship, right? Well, as you can imagine, a long ship ride brings about voracious hunger. Smuggle took it upon himself to eat everything that he could get his hands, err wings on, as it were. Food kept dissapearing, drinks were found laying around the ship empty, and all the crew's rations ran out too early. Nobody could figure out why. Meanwhile, Smuggles had grown quite large. He was nearly up to 200 pounds, you know, which is quite large for a turkey, you know. You know? All the crew became suspicious of Smuggle's enormous size. A mutiny, if you will, developed against Smuggle. A pirate yelled out, "Yearrrgh!" And the seige of Smuggles was on. They bound Smuggles up and said, "Listen here. You gobbled up all of our food! You stuffed yourself on our rations. And now we're forced to eat you!" So they did. And thus became the tradition of having a stuffed gobbler for Thanksgiving. And thus was the end of Smuggles, the smug smuggling turkey.

Now, you can't say that you don't agree with that, can you? You'd be smug too. Now go and enjoy your turkey, and think of Smuggles, the turkey who was smuggling smuggled smuggles while his person was smuggled and smuggled.

Gobble Gobble

Turkey 4, Turkey 12
Turkey Lurkey Pot man swellve
Eat a little piece, try a small man bite
456789 10, turkey on a bike.

Dressing on a Saturday, yummy to my mole
I don't like rick rock trog flog, catch a tadpole jole.


Friday, November 05, 2004

He's Gleagl

It was a sordid affair. The day when the Fry Guy lied. You wouldn't believe the eruption of Ronald McGuption and when the Hamburgler found out, he cried out "Murgler!". You see, he had a speech impediment, which, by definition impeded his speech. He couldn't pronounce his d. Instead he substituted a gl. For instance, he called his friend "Ronalgl". It is quite a thing to hear. Returning to the events of the event, Grimace was fit to be tied. He was so angry that he turned purple. Of course, that is his obligatory coloring, so you couldn't really tell. And in his ho hum voice he sighed, "Fry guy will dye and try to buy the cry sly Bill Nye a rye and lie about why he ate pie while high Dre Bly causes fry guy to lie." In case you hadn't noticed, that rhymed a lot. Continuing, Ronald McGuption called the police. "Watch out for the moose." The moose rang in, "I take a fence to that", as he crashed through the 6' tall pine privacy fence of Fry Guy's residence. Where did the moose come from? Nobody nose. "Glamn you!", cried the Hamburgler. "I'm gonna kick your glick!", he cried, as he kicked the well known TV character, played by Martin Short. A wolfman growled, "My hair is itchy. Follow my knows. It's always a nose!" He ran off into the horizon with a hamburger in his hand. No one followed, for it was widely known that wolfmen don't exist. It was just the burger king in a costume. Go figure. Just then, it happened, Fry Guy produced the pickle, which he had lied about eating a few minutes earlier. All was restored in the land of McGuption, and the people in costume realized that it was all a charade. Fry Guy never lied. He never tried. He was a guy who fried the wide side of Clyde, and had shotten the rotten cotton. What a guy, that Fry Guy. Sometime later, Fry Guy die. The Engl.

Thursday, November 04, 2004

Molestesaurus: The Eighth World Wonder

Seven dollars teen. That's the amount of ransom there was for the hide of Nomad. An indigenous tribe to the area, the Whatchalukinats were the high bidder, and in a free market, we all know how competitive their bids can be. Although thought to be the eighth wonder of the world, the giant beast, which was the guardian of the Whatchalukinats territory, actually only had hormone problems. Described to the layperson as a cross between a wooly sheep and a ostrich, with a touch of giraffe, the molestesaurus was quite the anomaly. It was quite startling at first glance, with a neck like a giraffe, a stand of wool 6 feet deep, and long bird legs such as an ostrich. You might think it was a mammal, but it was not. More related to the koala and the marsupial family, not in the fact that it had a pouch, but that its grandfather made it with a kangaroo and thus the beast was born.
Now, for the intermission. The unknown hilarity of the beast in discussion is not that of its enormously long neck, but that of its enormous coat of wool. The beast, in the depth of winter, carries around a coat of wool approximately 6 feet deep, which weighs around 200 pounds. Now, you might think that this wool could be used for clothing, quilts, seat cushions, steering wheel covers, wigs, cups, cubes, boobs, tubes, boob tubes, tudes, crudes, and cauliflower. You'd be wrong. This wool is unusual in the fact that it is more closely related to Brilo in texture. Not because its grandfather made it with a steel wool. I know you were thinking that. I've already told you that the grandfather hit it with a kangaroo. Get it straight.
Shortly following the purchase of the Nomad hide, my sidekick and I purchased small amount of land near the shore to retire to. However, since myself and he are both only 15 years past our 15th birthday, we still have more than 15 years to go until we may retire to our 15 acres on highway 15 in the 15th state to join the union. One might think that Kentucky has no shore front property, but you'd be wrong. The bluegrass state, although mostly known for its inbreeding and horse competitions, also carries some of the most secretive shoreline property in the country.
What does all of this have to do with Nomad's hide? Only the fact that Nomad rhymes with Kentucky quite well. You have to say them just the right way, but they do. Nomad-Kentucky. You don't have to be Seuss to figure that one out. Crabapple.

The Man who Saved Lions

Did you know the man who saved lions? They weren't new lions, more like secondhand ones. Hand me downs. The kind that have ragged fur and are missing an eye. Some think that he was the inspiration from the recent movie, with the same name. The ones who think that need to understand one thing, he wasn't. No one would ever want to write a movie about this guy. He's the kind of guy who you would think, "Hey, I would never want to write a screenplay about that guy." He is a real piece of work. Great with the felines though. The secondhand ones, anyway. The new ones hate him with a passion. That's why they mauled him that day when he tried to save them. Convert them, I mean. He has a strange idea that he can change new lions into secondhand ones by tearing their fur and poking out one of their eyes. With a corncob. That's why they called him Corncob Rob. He would wield the lions with a corncob in one hand and a Bible in the other. All the while screaming, "Vertigo bertyflush. I like slipperymush." Quite an obscene scene to be seen it would seem. Sean should rhyme with seen, but it doesn't. Ever call someone name Sean, Seen? They'll get mad. And stab you in the eye with a corncob. Stupid Seen. Now I'm blind in one eye, smell of corn, and can't stop blathering about converting lions that I've seen. Here's the song I crong: "Samer lamer borjerty bong. Wallerty day and awlfly long."

Friday, October 29, 2004

Do you ever wander?

I wonder. Do bologna wonder? They wander. They go on long journeys. Back to the homeland of Bolognia. It is near Spain. But far from Greenland. It is Bolognia. The have a king whose name is Bolog. He wears a hat. A meat hat. Made of Pastrami. It is imported. They only have bologna in Bolognia. It is the national meat, flower, flag, and song. You should hear the national anthem. It sounds like a piece of bologna slapping a counter. All of the currency is made of the red bolonga wrappings. The longer it is, the more value it has. They also have cars. You guessed it. They run on bologna juice. It tastes like bologna. But is flammable. Don't ever smoke after drinking a barrel of bologna juice. You will explode and it will smell like bologna. But the sound of your flesh hitting the pavement will be reminiscent of the national anthem. It would be patriotic.