Rare OOPS

What Happens after Swilling the Poteen.

Suction, if left alone, could destroy the universe, one stickfigure booty at a time. I offer the equation Dial "S" for "Suction" but Suction, of course, has been misunderstood over the Ages, 18 to 24, and 51 to 69, in particular. Most other Groups understand Suction just fine, or so sayeth Psychotherapies. You may wish to "Muse" in that you may wish to Inspire some young Sap, but don't Muse if you plan on Mewing, in the plural. It would be impossible, thereby, to distinguish your Muse from your Mews. Your Pause from your Paws. I will now describe My Own Theory of Relativity. I am related to You inasmuch as You have some Money for Me. Otherwise, you must apply for Relativity with the notion in mind that -- relating to you should leave me an additional half hour every day. Either Way, by Either Pike, we reach the aforementioned destination. "Your wallet please" may be a Robbery or it may be a clumsy attempt to speculate on the satisfaction of your billfold. "Ahem" may be a Throatclear whereas "Ahem ahem" may be a Warning that you have a Problem with your Garment. It may be Suction that is Amiss, and if so, check out that Video -- Suction Gone Wild -- via latenight infomercial. Suction will, nevertheless, determine a good bit Today, in your life, and in mine, we will require Redundancy, nails to secure nails, theory to secure theory, people to secure people, and so forth: It's getting to be That Kind of World.

Coq au Vindaloon

Les Garçonz 'n' le Quartier

If French scientists can change a hen into a rooster then why can't American scientists change the economy into an economy? It'd be risky. We could, afterall, wind up with a fowl worth negative $3,000,000,000,000, and counting. History is full of transformations. Swords have been beaten into Ploughshares, a Chechen Bird o' Prey has decloaked over the Kremlin, and Water has been turned into Wine, down in the Land of Canaan, at the House of Babel. There isn't just water, there is water on top of water, some water needs to be on top and some water needs to be on the bottom, there isn't just water, water is very sexy. It used to be one could wave a Cheeseburger and a Marijuana Cigarette at just about any problem, and the problem would go away. These days, and when I say "these days", I mean, yes, I, too, throw fistfulls of I Owe Youze into the air, it might have to be a VeggieBurger, and the Marijuana couldn't be Marijuana, it'd have to be Medicinal. Judaism, by the way, can now be purchased in the bulkfoods aisle at Fresh Fields. You can find it next to the dried mango, and for the same price, $10.99 per pound, although it's on sale this week, or just mark down the code for "Student Mix" and you can get Judaism for $3.49 per pound. Judaism and Student Mix -- apparently -- are like twins separated at birth, the cashiers and baggers, alike, cannot tell them apart. O, whadda we have to do, These Days, and when I say These Days, I mean, yes, I, too, muck my aces for no defensible reason, whadda we have to do? Well, we must be Vigilant, for one, we must light candles and let the curtains flutter in the spritely spring kissing wind. After all, one minute we might be laying an egg, and the next minute, we might be crowing -- for broke -- at the bright horizon.

A / V Sucks!

Cordage / Decline.

We are not crash test dummies, Teacher! We will wield the box of FILMSTRIP that got soggy when the roof flooded and the fat guy dropped through the ceiling onto chemistry. He did NOT smoke weed. Nobody smokes weed (pfff) but they need to. The way that nobody watches FILMSTRIP, Teacher!, but they need to. Have I told you about DAVE? Well, Billie Jean is not his lover. But my mom is! I’d rather call him sweetervest. We had a bat in the attic, a bat, with wings. Teacher! Leave them kids alone! We will wield the box of FILMSTRIP because FILMSTRIP has education in it and the students will watch up the education when they regard FILMSTRIP, Teacher!, leave them kids alone. May your iMac go pancreatic and your intercom go fritz and may the a/v aides be "goofing off with the dirtbags in the breezeway" rather than preparing for taco with fruit cup or acting MIDDLE OF THE ROAD.

(Guest blogged by Gina & Shaker Heights A / V Aides. You ROCK.)

The Looks Dept.

Neuteronomy.

The Weigh Sayers amongst us accuse the brewery of brewing the sneeze into the beer, that they drank, before the fits came in threes. They watch Extreme Weapons Amnesty: Michigan, on TV, and laugh when the potato gun discharges into the Sergeant's left buttock. They no longer Break Glass in Case of Emergency, but phone The Samoan instead. The Samoan doesn't mind being called The Samoan, because it establishes him as the authority, amongst Samoans, even though he's not Samoan, he's ethnic Jewish-Albanian. He's prompt, effective, and demands Apple Hookah after the emergency has been resolved. The Weigh Sayers do not like to discuss the time they offered The Samoan an Apricot -- not Apricot Hookah -- but an Apricot -- in place of Apple Hookah. It is not wise to substitute an Apricot for Apple Hookah. Ever. In any scenario. The Weigh Sayers descried an attempt to derail the freight train, and seeing as it had no purpose other than insanity itself, termed it the loco motive. The Weigh Sayers amongst us visit The Looks Dept. at the Supermarche to purchase some Deep Smoldering Glances, you know, Looks. They think "Roofies" are those who worship and follow The Roof and "Reefer" is that which recommends itself to consumption On The Briny, atop the coral. You wear your socks too tight, O, Weigh Sayers, the Salt of the Systole and the Disaspora of the Diastole, O, the breezy May-hem of the heart, Weigh Sayers, you wear your socks too tight.

Energy Kick

What put the pep in "Greensleeves"?

Freddie Hubbard knew: "Coltrane wasn't playing so far out then," said the trumpeter, of the 1961 Africa/Brass sessions, as reported by Ashley Kahn in THE HOUSE THAT TRANE BUILT: The Story of Impulse Records. "But he had so much energy, man, because him and Eric [Dolphy] used to drink honey out of the jar. They would eat those sunflower seeds and raisins. They were on an energy kick. I said, 'Man, you're going to get diabetes or something, man! You drinking raw honey?" [Pause.] I mean, that's right. We shall, therefore, rest our theories. There shall be no more theories. Our big-bottomed poets will quiet and quiet, too, will the poets of small bottoms be. Let (X) = "Greensleeves". Let "Greensleeves" = Horn in Sky. The honeybee leaves a pollen print in the history of Jazz on impulse! Praise Song for the Trane; Praise Trane.

Skeletons to the Right

I guess the closet is full.

The floundering economy has necessitated cutbacks that, already, have taken the dignity away from Great American Traditions such as Skeleton Return. Pretty soon we'll see Skeleton Reform, and after that, you'll just see despondent Bags o' Bone sitting in the park, drinking they Deuce Deuce, steam rising off their skulls in brassy, reedy fog. In any event, Skeletons are at their boniest since the Great Depression, when New Deal Skeletons were more calcified than a nice big cuppa Dustbowl. Postmodern Skeletons, on the other hand, Extrapolate, in that, they practice corporeal punishment with their little ones. They conflate and intertextualize. If they rebate, then they masturbate twice. One can bait his breath, if he means to trick his respirations. The Skeleton, however, means to trick his expirations. To whit, the Skeleton can achieve separation, should he become disconnected from his expiration, but that's a ghost story -- the Skeleton bouncing down dark alleyways, with his expiration in pursuit. Sometimes, a Special Officer, i.e., one who can demonstrate either a pulse or an I.Q., is called in, to corral said Skeleton, kick him around, and reunite him, all so vividly, with his expiration. We are Structure, and we are Weakening. If we scream "Jackass!", do we mean another, or are we identifying ourselves? We are Language and we are Debt. In that, we lease our Skeletons from the Landlord, the Earth, its doors to the right, its closets, its walkup duplex with berber carpeting and a riverview.

Neon Horror Clippers

All Ye Who Enter Shall Leave Changed . . . Personally.

The difference between "lion" and "loin" can be a lousy diph-thong, an underwear-thin vowel sequence. Too, the lion covers itself with a cheesecloth whereas the loin stalks us au naturel. When the loin is not tender, the loin is always tender, the loin is not legal. You cannot pay your rent with loin, you cannot post an envelope, you cannot purchase the dealie. Someone else, however, will purchase the dualie, someone else always purchases the dualie, which can be the dealie, as well, only not with loin, he will not purchase the dualie with loin. 'Fused? Then prefer the porkchop, the establishment does not serve the porkchop, nobody can remember the porkchop, prefer the porkchop. Would you quit forking around? You know how much I hate it, when you fork around. We can spoon, we cannot knife, we cannot attempt all the cutlery positions, we can bowl. Tell me something that's not so "Obvi" -- and by that, I mean not so "kicked in the knickers". I used to consult the Ethnic Market, the Ethnic Market had those funky roots, the Ethnic Market lost some composure, thereby developing needs of the Ethic Market, which tumbled again, today, on reports of selfish, shellfish, two times a lady. A man named Marmalade will never become president-elect, he could be secretary of buttery spreads, ("Obvi!"), in that, he could preside over the nation's manses, menses, minces, and muensters. Lettuce mints whirreds for the grater good, i.e., Implement.