THE DANGER OF SHELTERING IN PLACE.

Your Stimulus Dollars in Action

Nothing says "I love you" more than nougat, except, maybe, nugget. Nougat or nugget, eh?, that's the rub. Which brings me to the problem of People with Elegant Wrists. They and their elegant wrists, they don't have to curse, they can't, really, in any event, curse, on account of their elegant wrists. One day, soon, it will be 8 / 9 / 10. That is, it will be August 9, 2010. There must be some -- finality -- on that day: A curtain raised and someone really peeved. "Ta Da!" even if the trick fails, the trick always fails, in real life. O, Big Old Water Tank. Why a Big Old Water Tank and not another form of liquid delivery? Some daredevil will always want to scale it, A., and B., someone will write an unfortunate Ode to His Hometown Water Tank. Will it say "Shibboleth?" it will say "Shibboleth." What can you do, but incorporate some peat humus into the topsoil? You will never be the same, thereafter, but the topsoil will always be the topsoil, just a bit more peat humussy, and awaiting, with some -- finality -- The Drought.

THE PROBLEM OF THE CHOW CHOW.

I'll Never Go Back to Georgia

The problem of the chow chow, unleashed, in a summery rural lane. With no owner, apparently, nearby. And no people, for that matter, anywhere about. The problem of that chow chow, cocking his head, raising his tail, in that rural lane. In Georgia. He'd been clenching a softball in his jaws, and when I arrived, dropped it, slobbery, beaten by bats and gloves. The ball rolled off to the side and the chow chow cocked his head, a black dog with purple gums, its tail not passive, but raising like hackles. To know a dog's name is to know his combination and if you get one or two tries incorrect, unlike a safe -- which will just sit there, dumbly guarding its valuables -- the dog will grow and growl impatient. Or worse. Would nobody name a rottweiler "Rottweiler" or a shepherd "Shepherd" but a chow chow's second name is always "Chow Chow". And so the problem of the rural chow chow, unleashed, was solved. Even though I've never been in a country lane. In Georgia. It was Florida, instead, and the chow chow was a friend of mine.

BAD LUCK OBEDIENCE TRAINING.

Def Leppards.

What I'm saying is, there is a tree out there that not only bears the salami as fruit, but effectively hides the salami as part of its -- daily, monthly, annual -- ritual. A Hide the Salami Tree. O, can you imagine when people became people? It must've been, like, B.C. B.C., cuz, becuz that's when people still didn't know who they were, just yet. Some walked all the way up to Norway! There were savages running around in the hedge, painting themselves blue -- before they became the British. Another man held a snail, or a mushroom, up to his nose and he became a Frenchman. Suddenly there were all kinds of people, and the only logical thing to do was, heat lots of oil and pour it on each other. (This notion would go uncorrected for many centuries, until a band of traveling minstrels, Hard of Hearing Feline, or was it Def Leppard, would aver that one should pour sugar on [the other].) O, Deffen me!

IN CASE YOU DIDN'T KNOW.

"I Like Gravy"

Rabbit, Come Out the Bewilderness, O, Rabbit, Come Out the Bewilderness. The word "collaborate" no longer suggests the arrival of a double bass and submarine sandwiches for all but a "Corporate Strategy Session" with a man named Hammer. Having a "career" is all about not "careering" out of control, i.e., having a good careen after swilling some of the poteen. No, it would not be a good "career move" to career. To my knowledge, only one man -- me -- has ever depreciated all the telephone poles in the United States, and the answer, I came to, was: This job sucks. We should've, instead, depreciated all the rabbit suits in the United States. If the lawsuit fits, wear it, I suppose, unless you're being sued for impersonating a career. "Think outside the lunchbox," says Hammer. When, all of a sudden, the smoked salmon arrives. And that's really why I agreed to depreciate all those telephone poles -- in the hopes that, one day, I could toss my big, fat tie over shoulder and really dig into an everything bagel. O, Rabbit, Come Out the Bewilderness, O, Everything Rabbit, Be Wild, Come Out the Bewilderness. Listen: Okay, kay, kay, ours is not a land flowing with milk and honey. It is, nevertheless, a land flowing with biscuits and gravy, its inhabitants be as numerous as depreciated phone poles, and Lo, they shall revel in the very cholesterol of their imitations, huzzah!

SALAMI TREE.

Uff Da!

The men and women of Salamis are Salamis. If they have more than one salami tree -- and more than one salami -- then these, too, are Salamis, everything is Salamis. It is called Uff Da if a penguin jumps in Minneapolis and Uff Da if a Penguin jumps in Norway. They have all the same kinds of adages -- Minnesotans and Norwegians -- except that they have no magnetic birds. They must, instead, have a fish in-hand, if they want to effect change upon them penguins in the hedge. Adjectives, however, is a different story, when it comes to modifying adages. Can one slop a penguin? And if so, would one slop it with scripture? Many times I have seen people -- who call themselves cultivated -- slopping fowl with scripture. Is Irish sorcery the O'Cult? Maybe, and maybe not, but what must the Persians be thinking, still, after all these years? They failed to capture Salamis in The Battle of Salamis, in part, because, the Greeks harvested the Salamis first, and chased the Persians in angry-mob-style, wielding Salamis. Uff Da, in Norway, and Uff Da, in Minneapolis. Had the Persians triumphed, would the penguin have ever leapt toward a wielding of seafood?

ATTACK!

Showdown at the Phone Camera Corral.

YOUR HAT IS QUITE POLITICAL.

Nah, he's just happy to see us.

Had the Kaiser been more durable -- you know, been a Kaiser Permanente -- maybe we'd've missed out on his disturbed successor, Ice Adolph. (His rapper name.) "Pom Pom / Pogrom / Grommet / Gram Gram" goes an original line from Ice Adolph Live at the Bööger Haus. What's the difference? Stocks are up. And by that, I mean there is more essence of animal or essence of vegetable a-percolating on the stovetop than every before. Invest in Wall St. if you prefer; I'll sink my meager gleanings into 60 Month juice of boilings, thank you kindly. The U.S. Government, on the other hand, is so much indebted to various kinds of various types that it must drop one or more letters from GDP, leaving us at P, basically, Pee, Pisswater. A roar of the pectoralis / A snore of the digitalis / A boer of the limpid phallus / Areola Borealis. The Nipple Display, that is, in the Northern Sky. The Nipple Lights of the North. Let me get something absolutely correct: Was there really an Emperor Jones or did the Ruler just have a yen for giving a little dictation? Currency is to Jones, one must conclude, as Yen is to Yen, so watch out, especially, for a tip to the lid on the bonce. "Kaiser", afterall, sounds like something one might inflict upon a Citrus, and our man's battle topper could double as a Field Juicer when the lines inevitably stall, scurvy, curvy, pervy.