Believe me when I say that, originally, you weren't supposed to scream "Yahtzee!" when you triumphed at dice games but "Nazi!" instead -- perhaps when you achieved a snake-eyes kind of Fascism, throwing the venom of your palm into the air. And that, at first, you could opt for a Fascism at the Day Spa, you know, seeking to smoothe-over the defects in your maniacal allegiance, until you had to flat-out request a Facial, instead. If you try to debunk your Uncle, you'll get a Debuncle, if you try to carburate your Uncle, you'll get a Carbuncle, and if you try to monopolize your Uncle's attention, you'll get a Monocle. Skin blemishes over swaths of time could lead to Epoch Marks. But I digress. These days, with respect to our information economy, Megalomania just ain't enough Mania, you need something like Gigalomania, to get just enough Mania. Yeah, yeah, yeah: Cleveland and rivers: yeah, yeah, yeah. You can await the river all you like when you should probably abate the river, you know, get a crew, and a foreman, and have them sit around the tailgate by belching grease and ogling the Convenience Mart. 'Talegate' as in a scandal that accompanied a Yarn or 'Tailgate' as in a scandal that accompanied de Lay o' de Land? You take risk, tsk tsk, you take risk. One minute you're checking into a Bed & Breakfast, the next minute you're checking out: Period. As in Bled & Wake-fest. Optimize now, and we'll throw in four Gigs of Mania at no extra charge! Optimize now, and one of our customer service operatives will -- personally -- clap you on the Carbuncle! Bundle, Buncle, Whoa Back, Buckle.
10 comments:
Epoch Marks, huh? That's Epic Marks to you, pal. I know when I've been insulted. I'm gonna go down to your river there in Cleveland and burn it. Tsk tsk about it all you want.
Aw, man. You're The THE MACHINE. I ain't giving no truck to no The THE MACHINE. I hear you tho'. I shall furthermore humiliate myself in ashes and in sackcloth in the next post. --------BA
Put the truck down! Trucks are for closers!
A = Always
B = Be
C = Carbuncling
Get thee in, Good Buncle--'tis Mania that pities neither Pilgrims or Samoans.
My last Gig of Mania was really expensive, especially after I burned the river of Cleveland. So no buncles for me lately.
Je pense que: "rigamarole". N'est ce pas? N'est ce pas.
FOOL: Prithee, Carbuncle, be contented; ’tis a naughty night to swim in. Now a little fire in a wild field were like an old lecher’s heart; a small spark, all the rest on’s body cold. Look, here comes a walking fire.
{Enter GLOUCESTER, with a a jar of sauce.}
GLOUCESTER: I didst lose mine quest to createth mine sauce, Gloucestershire Sauce, to Worcestershire and his sauce.
Mania is a good gig, I agree. I always try to get Mania, even adjunct mania, if I can. ------------------------BA
Dahlia: Welcome. You are French? Quebecoise? Francophone? That great Irishman Frank O'Phone, who always made the call. --- BA
Stout Mania.
Mania is STOUT. Cleveland is QUIZ. Gloucestershire Sauce: QUIZ. ------------------BA
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