The lesser-known Trojan ElkAfter Me, there will be a flood -- of delusion. The Trojan Elk will empty out at 3:20 p.m. in the past, underneath the Flor de Baltimore sign, straddling the tracks, in the Border Town. Out will pour Ionians and Dorics, of course, rounding up all the Helens and Hellenes that they can sway with their Oratory, with their Rhetoric, with their Rubrics of Avant Modern Shizzle. John Coltrane will chant "Delude Supreme, Delude Supreme" while a woman nicknamed Hot Cups will bring the coffee, two sugars, two creams. O, Apres Moi, O, Apres Moi. Because, you know, the flood is taken for granted, by now. It is -- the Whitewashing -- at issue. We are Spectacle, and everything, these days, is a Close Shave. To own your own mind is to be the loaner of an only heart. If there remained only one Heart or one Casket or one Rump of Beef, in which would you invest, as a money-making venture? If you chose the latter, and it got out of hand, you'd be stuck with a Rumpus of Beef, so choose wisely. And roast enough Rumpus to feed those rampaging Ionians. Apres Moi, I would hope that one could tell a Heart from a Casket, a Delude from a Deluge.
10 comments:
Did you say "trojan"? That's one of those words no one can say anymore without snickering.
You can say "Trojan" if the next word is "Elk".
I always wondered why the graphic for the prophylactic is a Trojan warrior's headgear -- and not an elk.
BA
Elk me. I need elk bad.
I mean there's no other way to need Elk, but bad. Put it this way: If you need Elk, then you've got some serious needs. I'm not talking about casually thinking over the good qualities and bad qualities of Elk but real doggone need. And then, then, an Elk comes into your life.
BA
A mind is a terrible thing to own... and a rumpus is a terrible thing to waste...
Watch out for the Corinthians at the HOT L BALTIMORE...
sausages
The HOT L BALTIMORE: Man, I love that play.
Speaking of rumpus -- I've got one simmering on the stove. The broth: Well, broth, and then wine, and then w'shire, and then tom. paste, and then ...... STOUT. Bell's.
MMM.
BA
'only thing a wino worried about is runnin' outta wine...
...for his rumpus.
-sausages
One does have to medicate one's rumpus.
STOUT in the roast is like combining two pleasures at once -- and elevates the roast to a ROAST.
BA
I would also propose that "deluge" is actually a verb -- to deprive the sledder of his sled. To de-luge him, as it were. Or her.
BA
then a de-lude is ot take away the quuualude. gina
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