Monday, July 28, 2008
Ode to Odors
Odor in America. It's not just funk, it's a ritual, a Rite. A right protected by the constitution. Men wearing mirrored glasses and three piece suits can eat submarine sandwiches, wrote the Founders, and bear arms, even as they expose they stinky armpits -- they Flounders -- in the process. Bearing arms is kind of like doing the hokey pokey, kind of like a potluck, in Marianna, Fla., a little Fish Fry, which is healthfoods, by the way, specially if said Fry is held at a place of worship. Eat a little sole, to save your soul. Eat a little sardine if you dig The Dumb Animal. But don't eat no smelts, if you are what you eat. Else, you might smelts, bad, so sayeth Leviticus: As in Foundry as in funk (20:20). Hint: don't bring that Strange Odor before the Lord lest the Lord smite you. On the Q.T., backchannel, we all know that the Lord gets a little loosy goosy, in that regard. He digs his Smote Salmon, with a little Garden of Eden cream cheese, on a Deuteronomy Bagel. Speaking of which: Dude, where's my Economy? Didn't we, like, hand Dubya a Surplus? Some will pull the lever for the McCain / Abel ticket, and if McCain / Abel win, I hope they Do the Rite Thing. O, Do Rite, I want to tell them: ODoRite. We'll need it: Odorite.