The Spin Cycle

We are well equipped to attack The Weather.

In some countries, it's not the Grim Reaper but die Erdkröte aus Tod, or the Death Toad, who shows up, on the doorstep, in a blurry thundershower. That will only happen if (A) your time is Up or (B) die Kartoffelkroketten were dry. To be clear -- if the croquette potatoes were dry, the Death Toad will come. If the tropics are busy this year, then the X storm will be Hurricane Xerox, which will repeat the path of the storm that came before, a real aid to The Generals Weather. Jails are becoming more user-friendly: While they won't offer to vend you your orange jumpsuit, they will leave it on a hanger in your cell, kind of like a hotel robe challenge, after you've dressed in street clothes, upon parole. Beware Opportunity and Beware Cost, both are Felonies in the 21st Century. If you engage in Sport then you will engage in Itch. If you engage in Itch then you will engage in Prickerbush. If you engage in Sport then you will engage in Prickerbush. "A man is not a laundry machine." Okay? "A man is not the spin cycle." Okay? Unvarnish thy prose ; debloomer thine oration ; reflutter thine eyebat ; unration thy scintillation. La bas la bas la boogie!

Dearth, Incorporated

Grand Theft Downpour.

Behold the Drought. It loiters and we forget. We engage in abominations while the Drought endures. The rains must come if the rains don't come. If the rains don't come the rains must come. You know the rest. The cucumbers parch beside the heirlooms. The vegetarian goes without. He must sample a little turkey, instead. He must chew a little tender, juicy bird. Behold the Drought. The lip of it to the north of Danville, Va., amongst all the Danville Gals. A beachhead to the west of Ocean City, N.J., amongst all the Danville Gals. It loiters, the Drought, and we forget. We water our crabrass. Nudge our grabass. Bed down beside our false idols. The Neo-Stoics postulate that water, itself, thirsts, and assert the stratagem. The rains must come if the rains don't come. If the rains don't come the rains must come. Shortages is Shortages. That's the plan. "For sayings you are, and unto sayings shall you return." We engage in abominations while the Drought endures: Senator, Senator, Senator, Senator & Co.

Pride and Pejorative

I'm so proud, I could privatize myself.

I'd vote for Hoss but not for Haas. I ain't electing nobody who got no splotch on they billboard. That there is a SPLOTCH or my name ain't kicked around the paint factory. I don't keer if his ealdormen fought with that dumbass at Essex. He can color himself blue and run around the woods all he wants, I don't keer. I have a convection to make. I told my priest that I have a confection to make. That's not true. I ain't got no priest. I don't have no busfare, yes, I have no milk money. The big spiders hide in the banana bunches. The banana bunches travel, coach class, on banana boats. Hence, by the transitive property of mathematics, the confession was a perjury, per the jury's instrumentation. Ever heard the Jury Quartet and their new single, "Guilty, Guilty, Guilty, Guilty-y-y-y-y?" It's pretty bad, actually, it's a "tet" offensive. Okay, kay, kay. A member of the elite border policemen stops a car on the Italian/Austrian border but it could be anywhere, kay?, anywhere. He asks the driver to unlock the trunk, which is standard procedure. A search of the trunk reveals an enormous pumpkin. "Vass ees thees?" he stammers, "Vass ees thees?" That's the question. Now, choose the correct answer: (a) The policeman as the "avant gourd" (b) For shame: Manwich is a Meal but a pumpkin's a SQUASH. Drizzle that vinaigrette on your little grape tomato, little cherry tomato confab, Hoss.