To Overestimate the Saw. To Underestimate the Emergency.
Awful can be Awe Full while Offal is a Circuit, as in a Troupe of Performers from Lesser Bulgaria who lament the virtues of Cowguts au Poivre. Bulgarian officials once pontificated a national name change from "BOOL-gary-UH" to "Pineapple" and a national anthem, hence, that began, "O Pineapple / I opine for thee / I pine for thee / O Pineapple." Emergencies may include Deprivations but are not limited to the Extremities and do not, in general, require Handsaws and Clobber Mallets, unless the Emergency is related to a Derailment, in which case, everyone should don his or her Clobber Mallet, and speak his or her mind without any inhibitions. I was last struck by a Clobber Mallet in the Millennium, and by "struck", I mean moved, physically, by skid steer loader. Back in the days, that is, when a little Despair used to be good for you. "I'm prescribing a little Despair," the doctor would say, whilst scribbling furiously in his Rx pad, then the patient trooped across the boulevard to Woolworth's and sucked down a few Eggcreams while the pharmacy fulfilled the prescription: A Little Despair Twice Daily Take with Bonbons or Dilly Creme. According to legend, Isaac wanted to beget a son named Isau because he believed in Tradition, namely, that the name-bearer would saw, proudly, himself, rather than be Esau, who would saw electronically, on the Internet. Instead of begot, Isaac forgot, and begat a spat with Jacob, who ate the pottage and minded the cottage, until he was cot age, and slept in the Mudroom. "Du tout," say the French. "Do toot," say the Dealers. Which is a Circuit, as in a Troupe of Performers from Lesser Bulgaria. For all we know Confusion may be our salve, and the associated religion, Confusionism, may be benevolent. Desireable, even, in an auto-erotic kind of way, you know, the arousal we all feel at the sight of the Clunker, the combustion of the petroleum. It is Aweful if it is Offal, it is Awe Full if it is Awful, it is Offal if the light dawns on the nation-state of Pineapple, and its armed forces, sporting Hawai'ian Pizzas on their Epaulets, storm the Taverns, the Caverns, the Houses of Multigrain Toast Cakes.
Awful can be Awe Full while Offal is a Circuit, as in a Troupe of Performers from Lesser Bulgaria who lament the virtues of Cowguts au Poivre. Bulgarian officials once pontificated a national name change from "BOOL-gary-UH" to "Pineapple" and a national anthem, hence, that began, "O Pineapple / I opine for thee / I pine for thee / O Pineapple." Emergencies may include Deprivations but are not limited to the Extremities and do not, in general, require Handsaws and Clobber Mallets, unless the Emergency is related to a Derailment, in which case, everyone should don his or her Clobber Mallet, and speak his or her mind without any inhibitions. I was last struck by a Clobber Mallet in the Millennium, and by "struck", I mean moved, physically, by skid steer loader. Back in the days, that is, when a little Despair used to be good for you. "I'm prescribing a little Despair," the doctor would say, whilst scribbling furiously in his Rx pad, then the patient trooped across the boulevard to Woolworth's and sucked down a few Eggcreams while the pharmacy fulfilled the prescription: A Little Despair Twice Daily Take with Bonbons or Dilly Creme. According to legend, Isaac wanted to beget a son named Isau because he believed in Tradition, namely, that the name-bearer would saw, proudly, himself, rather than be Esau, who would saw electronically, on the Internet. Instead of begot, Isaac forgot, and begat a spat with Jacob, who ate the pottage and minded the cottage, until he was cot age, and slept in the Mudroom. "Du tout," say the French. "Do toot," say the Dealers. Which is a Circuit, as in a Troupe of Performers from Lesser Bulgaria. For all we know Confusion may be our salve, and the associated religion, Confusionism, may be benevolent. Desireable, even, in an auto-erotic kind of way, you know, the arousal we all feel at the sight of the Clunker, the combustion of the petroleum. It is Aweful if it is Offal, it is Awe Full if it is Awful, it is Offal if the light dawns on the nation-state of Pineapple, and its armed forces, sporting Hawai'ian Pizzas on their Epaulets, storm the Taverns, the Caverns, the Houses of Multigrain Toast Cakes.
All I know is, there's a whole lotta offal out my part of the country this week, and most of it from one source.
ReplyDeletethe ofays falls complete the circuit. boolya goes glengary, bloggo goes boffo, goya gets blotto, equals big blogojo purse-string no-nos, yo. goyem, go solo! stick your jimmies in the mojo and wipe 'em down with gojo (but only after you visit my dojo).
ReplyDeletei used to skitter my mind mallet but that was before the millennium inhibitions kicked in. emergencies related to a clobber and dumb pallet egg gream skids days before when a little dab 'd dill ya. he electrically spat taverns, arousal of salves and combustible ointments. compositional bonbons placate. even a solvent is benevolent. who minds the escargot? who houses the multigrain toast points and multigram urinal cakes?
I hear that Obama may be considering a cabinet level appointment -- Secretary of Offal. That would mean a Deputy Secretary of Offal, and and Offal Spokesman. Even an Offal Channel on cable. ----------------------------------BA
ReplyDeleteHow about that urinal cake at Post Pub that somehow wound up in the Bass pitchers? -----------------BA
ReplyDeleteI rather like an Emergency Cudgel meself...
ReplyDeleteOh-- we'll all be poundin' pitchers o' Miller at the Whiskey Blogojo before you know it...
ABC: Always Be Clobberin'. Coffee's for Clobberers...
A = Always.
ReplyDeleteB = Be.
C = Clobbering.
Always Be Clobbering.
---------------------------------------------------Ba
First Prize: Beef Pineapple Burrito.
ReplyDeleteSecond Prize: Set o' steak knives.
Third prize: You're fired.
What's my name? What's my Value Added?
mark wallace, did i eat toast cakes in california? is that where i ate toast cakes? at that place near the mountains? with the portions? ----------------------ba
ReplyDeleteHey: Company Man! You're a Company Man! Ahahahahahah! ----------------------------------------BA
ReplyDeleteToast cakes: this angers me, I'm sure. I don't know what they are, but I'm sure I'm angered...
ReplyDeleteYes, that's right. I'm forgetting the name of that place, Center City Cafe maybe, though it's not in the center of Escondido, and Escondido is not a city.
ReplyDeleteWe secretly replaced Dan Gutstein's toast cake w/ a urinal cake-- let's see if he notices...
ReplyDeleteWhat is it with these cities that aren't cities. It's getting so -- you don't even know where you are anymore. They should call the dang place Toast Cakes -- or Pineapple.
ReplyDelete----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------BA
Ask TKO about urinal cakes in the Bass pitchers at the old Office Hours, i.e., post pub, back when someone was The Vomiter.
ReplyDelete-----BA
Well, what I really wanna know, though, is:
ReplyDeleteWhy isn't there a game show called Washington Squares-- with Barney Frank as the center square...
You gotta pay to play, you Son of a Blagojevic...
ReplyDeleteBarney ... in a wifebeater shirt ... walking around ... disoriented ... after someone threw coffee on him ... true story. Sad but true. ---------BA
ReplyDeleteI covered Bl'ich on the Hill years ago, I always resented having to write down his long old name name. And I still can't pronounce it.
ReplyDelete------------------BA
And that stupid friggin' hair helmet of his-- you'd think I'd crawled up on his head and died--
ReplyDeleteWhat'll he have left to sell in prison, I wonder?
ReplyDeleteMore importantly, does this story have legs (yes) and how far will those legs walk? All the way to the White House? Hope not.
-------------BA