Wednesday, June 24, 2009


Victims / The Enpaled

The reputation of Vlad the Impaler, the famous Wallachian philanthropist, had gotten just so, he didn't need to Impale any longer -- well, now and again, heh heh heh -- since his proximity effectively Enpaled his victims. They would blanche. They would whiten. They removed themselves to The Pale of Settlement. Contests ensued and some were pronounced Pale by Comparison. What else can one do in The Pale of Settlement, afterall, but drink Pale Ale and beget Pale Stool, all the doings of Vlad the Enpaler. Vlad, which is short for Vladislaus, which, in Wallachian, translates to He Who Fondles of Vlasic Dillweed & Cole Slaus, then turned toward cheeseboarding as a means of extracting a confession. He once cheeseboarded a Dom DeLuise-looking Homey for three days -- the man, placed on a wooden board, had cheese rubbed all over his face -- until the Dom DeLuise-looking Homey confessed. Subsequent attempts to Cheeseburger a confession only triumphed in the Americas. Those, in the States, who caught a glimpse of Vladislaus, bought Impalas. Beige ones. It was undercover Americans, though, dressed as Syrians, yo, who applied SPF in his presence. He only caught on, did Vlad, when they ordered Fetish salads, hold the onions, with Wild Ass Toosh, when real Syrians would order Fettoosh, with onions, hold the Ass. "I tried to become a kinder Impaler," wrote Vladislaus, in his memoir, My Tippus, "but for the Americans, I would've ceased Impaling altogether, and now, I shall Impale afresh."

Friday, June 12, 2009


Donkey in the air is Tentacle.

He who spends too much time focused on Tentacle is a sucker, Gran'daddy always used to say. More and more Tentacle washing ashore each morning, though, cause of Al Gore. Tent plus pinnacle = the nipple of the octopus. A man squeezes a woman's nipple, a woman squeezes a man's nipple, only amongst primates. Go ahead, but if you pinch octopus nipple you will be in world of suction. Don't forget to catch Antique Tentacle Roadshow and play that game "Disappointed" / "Not Disappointed" when Tentacle is evaluated by Postmodern Paddle Wackers. Some folks think they have antique Tentacle and are disappointed when the appraisal is low whereas some people think they have modest Tentacle when it turns out they have very valuable Tentacle, and are elated, to say the least. The same Tentacle -- chopped high and chopped low -- has sat in the Thai Knot sushi prep area for years, rotated, every so often, by a sushi chef in a white mushroom cap. That's how Tentacle matures. Unless it's bottled and Put Up. I wouldn't turn down a bottle of Tentacle 12 Year Single Brine, but that's me. A tired octopus is a Spentacle whereas a gladiator cephalopod is a Spartacus. The Mongols, when they ran out of Tentacle, would catapault their own slain comrades -- especially those festering with the bubonic death -- into the citadels of their enemies. "Incoming Tentacle!" the sentries would shout, at first, until they saw a dead Mongol fly into their camp. "Incoming!" they would shout, instead, or "Mongol!" until it became commonplace, all those Besiegers flying through the air, and the sentries quit shouting, quit their posts, quit the citadels, but failed to notify their adversaries, who kept launching their mates in broad arcs.

Thursday, June 4, 2009


Truman Appoints His Secretary of Strings, Horns & Whistles

Do you have a lot of dust in your apartment? Because what dust is -- it's human skin. So what you really have is lots of human skin in your apartment. "I have just eaten an exhibition of paintings," said the Bohemian glutton, artfully. Get it? There is no such thing as "art" anyhow. Claiming otherwise is just an Insanity Pretense. The goslings resemble rabbits and the mimic thrasher nips the crow in the pooper. Why do you have so much human skin in your apartment? When I say "apart/ment" I do not imply that you suffer from irreparable separation. "C'mon, let's get this procedure over with," the sick man said, impatiently. Get it? There is a fine line between Rapture and Rupture, although the latter can follow from an experience with the former. Nobody hails from that venerable American town, Vaudeville, anymore, our presidents no longer seek wise counsel from yonder, and nobody, in recent memory, has been caught holding the mute's leg, a tragedy.