A hollowed out stump may or may not be filled with peanut butter. The likelihood of this depends on the promixity of the stump to peanuts, the cleanliness of the stump, the availability of a spreading instrument, the effectiveness of such a tactic at hiding peanut butter in the mind of the peanut-butter owner, the existence of peanuts, the availability of a tree of sufficient girth, the continuance of nuclear reactions inside the centre of the sun, a refutation of Hume's unproveability of causation (see Kant), a chemical composition for peanuts that permits butterification, the actualization of abstract concepts such as 'hollowness', the absence of any wolf or wolf-like creature that will devour the peanut butter no matter how well you hide it (cf. third point on dependency), the continued east-west rotation of the Earth, the neutralization of any threat of Ice Age, El Nino effect or rampant Fire Ant plague...
A mini-list:
1) Anyone who has an 'electric smile' should be careful around bathtubs.
2) If Venice is indeed sinking, then I will buy up Prague, gut the streets, fill them with water, and give the big middle finger to global warming. If any Czech complains, I will silence him with sugared pastries.
3) A man with too much time on his hands will never be able to bench-press a grandfather clock.
4) Phone me, email me, or send me a letter if you like. I cannot reply as long as I am locked in this damn mystery, wrapped in a riddle!
2/23/2007
2/18/2007
24 profound revelations
(may require a complete re-thinking of your existence)
1) Why were there four Gospels written, instead of just one? Did the four evangelists not trust each other to get it right? Or they each wanted to take the credit for themselves. Seems that way. Hanging on the J-man's coattails - so typical.
2) Eleven people stomping on your throat hurts just as much as five people stomping on your throat.
3) Just because you compost, and don't contaminate the groundwater by throwing dead batteries in the trash doesn't mean you aren't an asshole.
4) You don't own the moon and neither do I. Who owns the moon? Why, that's P.J. PennyPincher, an evil billionaire. Remember whenever you look at the moon, that P.J. PennyPincher is up there - oppressing an innocent civilization of docile moon men.
5) It's weird how my auntie used to say, "Don't call me late for dinner, or I will feed you a poison breakfast!" But she never did.
6) A 'pack rat' with kleptomania would be relatively easy to catch.
7) Everyone would be 'on time' and no one would 'give foot rubs' if 'meetings' meant 'foot rubs' and 'foot rubs' meant 'meetings'. [?]
8) The great mass of humanity will never know the joys of individualism.
9) It's always 'hypotenuse this' and 'hypotenuse that'. The other two sides of a triangle must get jealous. But then again, it's a triangle.
10) I admit that a song titled 'Hotel Californium' might be interesting, but it caters to a very select audience of chemistry nerds.
11) People who are cute and who smile a lot often get held back from promotion. In Australia alone, komodo dragons fill the executive ranks while millions of cuddly koala bears are doomed to toil in the service industry.
12) It must be hard staying motivated if you're a potter, knowing that human beings perfected the water jar thousands of years ago.
13) Concealed weapons are so unsportsmanlike. If you have a concealed knife, I'd rather you said "Don't trust me, I'm carrying a knife!' instead of biding your time and then stabbing me.
14) Women pirates love arguing with their husbands. For them it's always about argh! you men! tation.
15) Camera-phones are a much better idea than what I once invented: the toaster-fax. A machine that catches fire any time you send a fax is pret-ty worthless.
16) A pocket full of posies? Forget that. I'd rather take a pocket full of quarters - or a pocket full of gold - any day. Or a giant robot that speaks 15 languages and serves you limonata whenever you want.
17) I could move to Egypt and build the world's largest outdoor triangular prism - if only I had a million Hebrew slaves.
18) Don't knock it: radioactive waste has made me a lot smarter. People always say "You've got a good head protruding from underneath your shoulder!"
19) People who don't write in complete sentences
20) Improving the smells on this planet requires a complete re-imagining of what it means to fart.
21) If I were a space traveler, I wouldn't put up with all this fuss from milk drinkers. 'Intergalactose' will be universally tolerated!
22) If my name were Colleen I would hate owning a phone. 'Oh, someone's calling, Colleen! Or 'It's Colleen calling! Or - if I was from India and my name was Obanji Pinthador, and whenever someone knocked on the door my wife screeched 'Open the door, O. Pinthador!' that would be tres annoying.
23) I absolutely hate it when this one friend of mine vomits, curses and then rolls over me, just because he's a wheelchair-bound alcoholic with Tourette's syndrome.
24) Don't trust me - I'm carrying a knife!
1) Why were there four Gospels written, instead of just one? Did the four evangelists not trust each other to get it right? Or they each wanted to take the credit for themselves. Seems that way. Hanging on the J-man's coattails - so typical.
2) Eleven people stomping on your throat hurts just as much as five people stomping on your throat.
3) Just because you compost, and don't contaminate the groundwater by throwing dead batteries in the trash doesn't mean you aren't an asshole.
4) You don't own the moon and neither do I. Who owns the moon? Why, that's P.J. PennyPincher, an evil billionaire. Remember whenever you look at the moon, that P.J. PennyPincher is up there - oppressing an innocent civilization of docile moon men.
5) It's weird how my auntie used to say, "Don't call me late for dinner, or I will feed you a poison breakfast!" But she never did.
6) A 'pack rat' with kleptomania would be relatively easy to catch.
7) Everyone would be 'on time' and no one would 'give foot rubs' if 'meetings' meant 'foot rubs' and 'foot rubs' meant 'meetings'. [?]
8) The great mass of humanity will never know the joys of individualism.
9) It's always 'hypotenuse this' and 'hypotenuse that'. The other two sides of a triangle must get jealous. But then again, it's a triangle.
10) I admit that a song titled 'Hotel Californium' might be interesting, but it caters to a very select audience of chemistry nerds.
11) People who are cute and who smile a lot often get held back from promotion. In Australia alone, komodo dragons fill the executive ranks while millions of cuddly koala bears are doomed to toil in the service industry.
12) It must be hard staying motivated if you're a potter, knowing that human beings perfected the water jar thousands of years ago.
13) Concealed weapons are so unsportsmanlike. If you have a concealed knife, I'd rather you said "Don't trust me, I'm carrying a knife!' instead of biding your time and then stabbing me.
14) Women pirates love arguing with their husbands. For them it's always about argh! you men! tation.
15) Camera-phones are a much better idea than what I once invented: the toaster-fax. A machine that catches fire any time you send a fax is pret-ty worthless.
16) A pocket full of posies? Forget that. I'd rather take a pocket full of quarters - or a pocket full of gold - any day. Or a giant robot that speaks 15 languages and serves you limonata whenever you want.
17) I could move to Egypt and build the world's largest outdoor triangular prism - if only I had a million Hebrew slaves.
18) Don't knock it: radioactive waste has made me a lot smarter. People always say "You've got a good head protruding from underneath your shoulder!"
19) People who don't write in complete sentences
20) Improving the smells on this planet requires a complete re-imagining of what it means to fart.
21) If I were a space traveler, I wouldn't put up with all this fuss from milk drinkers. 'Intergalactose' will be universally tolerated!
22) If my name were Colleen I would hate owning a phone. 'Oh, someone's calling, Colleen! Or 'It's Colleen calling! Or - if I was from India and my name was Obanji Pinthador, and whenever someone knocked on the door my wife screeched 'Open the door, O. Pinthador!' that would be tres annoying.
23) I absolutely hate it when this one friend of mine vomits, curses and then rolls over me, just because he's a wheelchair-bound alcoholic with Tourette's syndrome.
24) Don't trust me - I'm carrying a knife!
2/17/2007
20 astonishing facts of history
(google em yourself)
1) The Italian monument was a filthy mess, until Michelangelo's wife crafted the famed Cleaning Towel of Pisa.
2) Superstition prompted Genghis Khan to undergo dangerous organ transplants after each battle. He misheard advice from a witch doctor, who he thought said 'The Great Khan will be immortal, and outliver his enemies."
3) George Bush knows he can't subdue Iraq militarily so has asked Congress to send 92,000 rowdy American tourists to overwhelm the Middle East during Spring break.
4) Darwin's personal motive behind the Theory of Evolution was to legitimize his torrid passion with Kongo, the great ape of the London Zoo, as a relationship between equals and not a monkey-man perversion. Also in his retirement years he was an staunch activist for Sasquatch rights.
5) The guillotine was invented as a more humane way of slicing cheese.
6) Helen of Troy was known as the Anna Nicole Smith of Antiquity.
7) Horace commanded an exorbitant salary as the Poet Laureate of Rome. There was also his controversial demand of a car per diem.
8) As a five-year-old Isaac Newton drew an apple on his forehead, proving his controversial Theory of Graffiti.
9) Dusk curfews for children were instituted so that adults could stay up late and watch 'constellation porn'.
10) Einstein's kids were all incredible athletes - sprinters in fact. They never excelled at intellectual pursuits - because, in accordance with dad's discoveries, the faster they moved, the denser they became.
11) Napoleon had a 'little man' complex, and marched all across Europe just to find a pair of men's jeans that would fit his scrawny butt.
12) It has come to light that the Great Crash of '29 happened when all stockbrokers began using PCs.
13) As a young punk Martin Luther rebuked the Catholic church as a dull, constipated body. As a symbolic taunt he nailed his 95 feces to a church door.
14) Shakespeare wrote 'Hamlet' with the uncredited help of Woody Allen.
15) Otto von Bismarck said that unifying the German and Prussian states was still easier than tying a half-hitch sheep-shank.
16) Garibaldi marched through southern Italy, not liberating but 'liberalizing' towns along the way. It was a year long parade, full of pride, and he wore a flamboyant red t-shirt.
17) Marco Polo returned from travel and wrote three travel guides: 'Lonely Planet: The Orient', 'Conquer the East in just 300 Ships '; ' Chinese food for Italians - steal these recipes!'
18) Magellan sailed around the world and when he got back his housemates still hadn't done the dishes!
19) When nobody was looking William Tell fired an arrow directly through his son's face.
20) Stalin demolished Gandhi in an arm-wrestling match. Years later India got revenge by flooding the Earth with software engineers.
1) The Italian monument was a filthy mess, until Michelangelo's wife crafted the famed Cleaning Towel of Pisa.
2) Superstition prompted Genghis Khan to undergo dangerous organ transplants after each battle. He misheard advice from a witch doctor, who he thought said 'The Great Khan will be immortal, and outliver his enemies."
3) George Bush knows he can't subdue Iraq militarily so has asked Congress to send 92,000 rowdy American tourists to overwhelm the Middle East during Spring break.
4) Darwin's personal motive behind the Theory of Evolution was to legitimize his torrid passion with Kongo, the great ape of the London Zoo, as a relationship between equals and not a monkey-man perversion. Also in his retirement years he was an staunch activist for Sasquatch rights.
5) The guillotine was invented as a more humane way of slicing cheese.
6) Helen of Troy was known as the Anna Nicole Smith of Antiquity.
7) Horace commanded an exorbitant salary as the Poet Laureate of Rome. There was also his controversial demand of a car per diem.
8) As a five-year-old Isaac Newton drew an apple on his forehead, proving his controversial Theory of Graffiti.
9) Dusk curfews for children were instituted so that adults could stay up late and watch 'constellation porn'.
10) Einstein's kids were all incredible athletes - sprinters in fact. They never excelled at intellectual pursuits - because, in accordance with dad's discoveries, the faster they moved, the denser they became.
11) Napoleon had a 'little man' complex, and marched all across Europe just to find a pair of men's jeans that would fit his scrawny butt.
12) It has come to light that the Great Crash of '29 happened when all stockbrokers began using PCs.
13) As a young punk Martin Luther rebuked the Catholic church as a dull, constipated body. As a symbolic taunt he nailed his 95 feces to a church door.
14) Shakespeare wrote 'Hamlet' with the uncredited help of Woody Allen.
15) Otto von Bismarck said that unifying the German and Prussian states was still easier than tying a half-hitch sheep-shank.
16) Garibaldi marched through southern Italy, not liberating but 'liberalizing' towns along the way. It was a year long parade, full of pride, and he wore a flamboyant red t-shirt.
17) Marco Polo returned from travel and wrote three travel guides: 'Lonely Planet: The Orient', 'Conquer the East in just 300 Ships '; ' Chinese food for Italians - steal these recipes!'
18) Magellan sailed around the world and when he got back his housemates still hadn't done the dishes!
19) When nobody was looking William Tell fired an arrow directly through his son's face.
20) Stalin demolished Gandhi in an arm-wrestling match. Years later India got revenge by flooding the Earth with software engineers.
2/15/2007
10 incredible pronouncements
(more believable than you think)
1) Space aliens will one day come to Earth, read our resumes, and marvel at our productivity.
2) To 'slip on a banana peel' will no longer be considered funny, after archaeologists reveal that this was how ancient clowns ended unwanted pregnancies.
3) Weather systems, like human beings, are never fully satisfied. People will eventually become annoyed that, whenever the sun shines, the sky is 'blue'.
4) 'Think before you drink' is considered good advice. Within centuries however it will be made obsolete, by the more authoritative 'Thonk before you dronk' .
5) The confirmed existence of God will follow immediately upon the confirmed existence of a pizza crust so thin that the Pope describes it as 'miraculously thin'.
6) With the explosion of communication technology, verbal self-awareness will one day reach a fever pitch, such that anyone who says the oxymoronic phrase 'I have certain doubts' will be flabberghasted.
7) An ingenious cure for lethal peanut allergies will be discovered: the EpiPeanut.
8) Desperate YouTube users will pad their 'view stats' by bribing teenage robots.
9) A ban on sleepwalking will have limited effect on cutting carbon emissions. A further ban on sleepdriving however, will work wonders.
10) Vegetarianism among cannibals will gain legitimacy - with the invention of a delicious soy mannequin.
1) Space aliens will one day come to Earth, read our resumes, and marvel at our productivity.
2) To 'slip on a banana peel' will no longer be considered funny, after archaeologists reveal that this was how ancient clowns ended unwanted pregnancies.
3) Weather systems, like human beings, are never fully satisfied. People will eventually become annoyed that, whenever the sun shines, the sky is 'blue'.
4) 'Think before you drink' is considered good advice. Within centuries however it will be made obsolete, by the more authoritative 'Thonk before you dronk' .
5) The confirmed existence of God will follow immediately upon the confirmed existence of a pizza crust so thin that the Pope describes it as 'miraculously thin'.
6) With the explosion of communication technology, verbal self-awareness will one day reach a fever pitch, such that anyone who says the oxymoronic phrase 'I have certain doubts' will be flabberghasted.
7) An ingenious cure for lethal peanut allergies will be discovered: the EpiPeanut.
8) Desperate YouTube users will pad their 'view stats' by bribing teenage robots.
9) A ban on sleepwalking will have limited effect on cutting carbon emissions. A further ban on sleepdriving however, will work wonders.
10) Vegetarianism among cannibals will gain legitimacy - with the invention of a delicious soy mannequin.
2/12/2007
25 friggin brilliant ideas
(no need for an introduction)
1) Upside down snorkeling - with your face up out of the water, staring at the sky, you take a snorkel and blow into the water, creating an oceanic bubble bath (farting just doesn't compare) and sigh. Call it blorkeling: blow + snorkeling. Whether the sonic bubbles could attract whales remains to be seen, but think of the tourism if it did!
2) A club/singles org. for really really desirable people. Call it Social Mensa. The more exclusive the better. You need at least 10 references.
3) Why don't people sing on escalators? There should be a contest for writing the best song that can be performed for the exact duration of an escalator ride. This kind of thing could take off in Finland, a notoriously weird country (and home to the World Air Guitar Championships).
4) Banks that don't send you 500 pieces of mail every month.
5) Forget Wednesday - I want Winesday! (even better than Wacky Wednesdays)
6) An environmentally friendly, ethanol-powered search engine.
7) Self-milking livestock. Also, self-hypnotizing chickens! Snap your fingers and they line up in a row like super-nazi chickens. No longer will they wander the yard causing a fuss. Snap fingers twice and they keel over - dead.
8) A zeppelin on every rooftop. Blimp traffic is notoriously light.
9) There's spell check, and there's grammar check - now MS Word needs reality check to tell me exactly how stupid my writing really is.
10) Behavioural incentive: compliment your mother-in-law, get a coupon for a free pina colada.
11) Schoolteachers who give each other 'the strap'.
12) Survivor: Urban Poverty version.
13) A designated 'makeout car' on the subway. Or even better, a designated 'makeup car' on the subway where beauticians give grooming advice.
14) Communism might have a better reputation if it changed names to Legislated Sharing.
15) Oohgle - search engine for awesomeness.
16) If you hear someone say 'Aboriginals are just sore losers' you can take away his land.
17) If a tree falls in a forest and you don't hear it, don't worry. Greenpeace will notify you.
18) Foldable houses. Also called tents.
19) An emoticon for handshakes.
20) Why don't lingerie stores sell helmets? For the action-packed lover.
21) Game show called 'What's My Name?' where the entire half hour is spent trying to guess the contestant's first and last name. Hundreds of thousands in weekly prize dollars.
22) Game show - 'Fat Oprah/Skinny Oprah'. Not sure what the rules would be.
23) Use aerodynamic 'wind-tunnel' testing to build the perfect hair.
24) If Satan lives among us - someone should offer him a lollipop. Doesn't hurt to get on his good side.
25) Random lists every week!
1) Upside down snorkeling - with your face up out of the water, staring at the sky, you take a snorkel and blow into the water, creating an oceanic bubble bath (farting just doesn't compare) and sigh. Call it blorkeling: blow + snorkeling. Whether the sonic bubbles could attract whales remains to be seen, but think of the tourism if it did!
2) A club/singles org. for really really desirable people. Call it Social Mensa. The more exclusive the better. You need at least 10 references.
3) Why don't people sing on escalators? There should be a contest for writing the best song that can be performed for the exact duration of an escalator ride. This kind of thing could take off in Finland, a notoriously weird country (and home to the World Air Guitar Championships).
4) Banks that don't send you 500 pieces of mail every month.
5) Forget Wednesday - I want Winesday! (even better than Wacky Wednesdays)
6) An environmentally friendly, ethanol-powered search engine.
7) Self-milking livestock. Also, self-hypnotizing chickens! Snap your fingers and they line up in a row like super-nazi chickens. No longer will they wander the yard causing a fuss. Snap fingers twice and they keel over - dead.
8) A zeppelin on every rooftop. Blimp traffic is notoriously light.
9) There's spell check, and there's grammar check - now MS Word needs reality check to tell me exactly how stupid my writing really is.
10) Behavioural incentive: compliment your mother-in-law, get a coupon for a free pina colada.
11) Schoolteachers who give each other 'the strap'.
12) Survivor: Urban Poverty version.
13) A designated 'makeout car' on the subway. Or even better, a designated 'makeup car' on the subway where beauticians give grooming advice.
14) Communism might have a better reputation if it changed names to Legislated Sharing.
15) Oohgle - search engine for awesomeness.
16) If you hear someone say 'Aboriginals are just sore losers' you can take away his land.
17) If a tree falls in a forest and you don't hear it, don't worry. Greenpeace will notify you.
18) Foldable houses. Also called tents.
19) An emoticon for handshakes.
20) Why don't lingerie stores sell helmets? For the action-packed lover.
21) Game show called 'What's My Name?' where the entire half hour is spent trying to guess the contestant's first and last name. Hundreds of thousands in weekly prize dollars.
22) Game show - 'Fat Oprah/Skinny Oprah'. Not sure what the rules would be.
23) Use aerodynamic 'wind-tunnel' testing to build the perfect hair.
24) If Satan lives among us - someone should offer him a lollipop. Doesn't hurt to get on his good side.
25) Random lists every week!
2/10/2007
don't drink and drive!
(bizarre song written in 6 minutes)
tip toe bobby got a sock in his shoe
totaled his car and killed a kangaroo
lowdown sally stuck her thumb in the air
cried 'dumbo take me home' to the elephant at the fair.
little benny snook was drinking by the pump
turned the key on his mustang and floored the metal pedal
along came sally atop her big grey friend and
benny ran em down and the ivory ran red
officer fitzgordon was snacking at the Tim's
in a 25-year-old cruiser decked with spoilers and fins
the radio was beeping and the dispatcher was freaky
benny killed sally - manslaughter for the geeky
the courthouse was packed and the babies were wailin
judge tough as nails and the papers called for jailin
benny in shackles as fitzgordon led him in
the thumping of his heart echoed the courtroom din
benny buckled, finally; cried and begged for mercy
but the law did not let up, he would do the herky-jerky
no one cared where he schooled or that he got his urban planning masters
the judge stood up and shrieked, 'electrocution for the bastard!'
so that's what you get if you drink and drive
creaming sally and her elephant (200 clicks on highway five)
benny racing home to family, live his life
now he's fried, his name is mud, and he widowed his handsome wife.
tip toe bobby got a sock in his shoe
totaled his car and killed a kangaroo
lowdown sally stuck her thumb in the air
cried 'dumbo take me home' to the elephant at the fair.
little benny snook was drinking by the pump
turned the key on his mustang and floored the metal pedal
along came sally atop her big grey friend and
benny ran em down and the ivory ran red
officer fitzgordon was snacking at the Tim's
in a 25-year-old cruiser decked with spoilers and fins
the radio was beeping and the dispatcher was freaky
benny killed sally - manslaughter for the geeky
the courthouse was packed and the babies were wailin
judge tough as nails and the papers called for jailin
benny in shackles as fitzgordon led him in
the thumping of his heart echoed the courtroom din
benny buckled, finally; cried and begged for mercy
but the law did not let up, he would do the herky-jerky
no one cared where he schooled or that he got his urban planning masters
the judge stood up and shrieked, 'electrocution for the bastard!'
so that's what you get if you drink and drive
creaming sally and her elephant (200 clicks on highway five)
benny racing home to family, live his life
now he's fried, his name is mud, and he widowed his handsome wife.
2/02/2007
1/30/2007
Two portraiteers reassure each other
(warning - these poems written in 45 seconds are becoming increasingly shitty!)
Oh you're a fool
to expect what you tinkle
to truly impress
This is dusting
-light shapeless sprinkles,
elevator music for
Rip Van Winkle
But when I wake up
the whispering stops and
the screaming starts
then I'll holler
‘bring your camera’
-or, make it an axe
you can hew me permanently, I swear
until then, just relax.
Oh you're a fool
to expect what you tinkle
to truly impress
This is dusting
-light shapeless sprinkles,
elevator music for
Rip Van Winkle
But when I wake up
the whispering stops and
the screaming starts
then I'll holler
‘bring your camera’
-or, make it an axe
you can hew me permanently, I swear
until then, just relax.
1/28/2007
The internet cafe
He-man on Harbord street beside the alleys behind Bickford Park, tampering with hydrants for a lark - fifteen minutes after dark. Crowbar Sam and Juliet dance the downtown minuet, trading saliva and gum after smoking a cigarette. The laundromat has a wide foggy window, cleanfreaks avoid each other, apologizing for existence, inches apart in a social limbo. Flicker of the bicycle repair shop open sign neon. Slush on my pantleg but it dries soon enough, enter like an unhip oscar winner, order soup at the counter from an unshaven guff. Park to carve my stuff: Connect wirefree, float fast, giggle-tee-hee; clickety-beep bumblebeeings don’t make sense to me. Another dumb numbness. I’ve had enough. Spazzing on –asms: orgasm chasms; my big black book spasms, burps and sleeps. Spamming my brainstem; who wants to play chess. The silent screen sickens me. Do I hear correctly, yes?
Silly little drunk song
You who fret
what you get
Do not bet
On my demise
See free sheep
Beep beep, beep
beep, asleep
Does not make me wise
I drank all night
cried all morning
cherry hair and
apple pie
Wolfhound teeth
and cobra tongue
told the truth
about your lies
what you get
Do not bet
On my demise
See free sheep
Beep beep, beep
beep, asleep
Does not make me wise
I drank all night
cried all morning
cherry hair and
apple pie
Wolfhound teeth
and cobra tongue
told the truth
about your lies
1/26/2007
Herbert Yeeshmaggots cuts down a tree
(written accidentally about two years ago - glad I found it... unedited for your pleasure)
“Curse the architectural landscaping of this part of Palmerston!”
A tall oak tree was trying to make it home before it got dark, but he was stuck in the sidewalk. He stayed that way for a hundred years, and it wasn’t until he saw a man with a chainsaw walking near a van that said “We chop trees, you be pleased, low low fees!” did he feel any hope. Now the oak tree was called Volvovia. Volvovia cried out using the pharyngeal apparatus for speaking that is located in the bark of every single tree in the world but only oak trees can truly utilize it. He said “halt there, O man bearing my chainsaw of liberation!” And the man, who was called Herbert Yeeshmaggots, did a triple take of confusion and surprise. “I am truly taken aback,” cried man after hearing the voice of the worm-eaten oak tree. The worms had been chewing at him since December 1923, but he was tall enough to survive such annelidic intrusions, and this made the tree, called Volvovia, a bit more intimidating that usual. “Can I believe my ears, a talking oak” wondered the chainsaw toting fellow, “I am the most mystified chainsaw bearer in these parts.”
“Enough pleasantry, enough urbanity,” chuckled the tree, and he summoned an owl to present a list of propositions to Mr. Yeeshmaggots. The demands read as follows: 1) please chop me down ASAP; 2) please take me home to my fatherland, which is in the woods.
Mr. Yeeshmaggots did as he was told, for the oak tree was prepared to pay handsomely. “$100 just to chop you down? That’s pretty generous for an oak tree… you acorn-possessing long-branches are alright!”
“please, Mr. Yeeshmaggots,” said the tree, “cease the flattery, the strokery, and chop me up and take me home.”
So the oak tree fell to the ground with a mighty crash, it was loud and the sawdust covered all the neighbourhood. But this was no ordinary neighbourhood.
As Volvovia came crashing down Yeeshmaggots saw the sign behind the tree: “Palmerston Environmental Freaks (PEF): we freak out about everything!”
And as the oak tree’s branches covered the sidewalk, the doors of the PEF office swung open and a skinny sour-faced woman wearing a hand-knit shawl and hemp sandals jumped out.
“I am filled with puke and disgust at what I am beholding,” cried the sour woman, who’s name was Salome Seldom-Lade
[unfinished of course]
“Curse the architectural landscaping of this part of Palmerston!”
A tall oak tree was trying to make it home before it got dark, but he was stuck in the sidewalk. He stayed that way for a hundred years, and it wasn’t until he saw a man with a chainsaw walking near a van that said “We chop trees, you be pleased, low low fees!” did he feel any hope. Now the oak tree was called Volvovia. Volvovia cried out using the pharyngeal apparatus for speaking that is located in the bark of every single tree in the world but only oak trees can truly utilize it. He said “halt there, O man bearing my chainsaw of liberation!” And the man, who was called Herbert Yeeshmaggots, did a triple take of confusion and surprise. “I am truly taken aback,” cried man after hearing the voice of the worm-eaten oak tree. The worms had been chewing at him since December 1923, but he was tall enough to survive such annelidic intrusions, and this made the tree, called Volvovia, a bit more intimidating that usual. “Can I believe my ears, a talking oak” wondered the chainsaw toting fellow, “I am the most mystified chainsaw bearer in these parts.”
“Enough pleasantry, enough urbanity,” chuckled the tree, and he summoned an owl to present a list of propositions to Mr. Yeeshmaggots. The demands read as follows: 1) please chop me down ASAP; 2) please take me home to my fatherland, which is in the woods.
Mr. Yeeshmaggots did as he was told, for the oak tree was prepared to pay handsomely. “$100 just to chop you down? That’s pretty generous for an oak tree… you acorn-possessing long-branches are alright!”
“please, Mr. Yeeshmaggots,” said the tree, “cease the flattery, the strokery, and chop me up and take me home.”
So the oak tree fell to the ground with a mighty crash, it was loud and the sawdust covered all the neighbourhood. But this was no ordinary neighbourhood.
As Volvovia came crashing down Yeeshmaggots saw the sign behind the tree: “Palmerston Environmental Freaks (PEF): we freak out about everything!”
And as the oak tree’s branches covered the sidewalk, the doors of the PEF office swung open and a skinny sour-faced woman wearing a hand-knit shawl and hemp sandals jumped out.
“I am filled with puke and disgust at what I am beholding,” cried the sour woman, who’s name was Salome Seldom-Lade
[unfinished of course]
1/21/2007
Paragraphs wisely abandoned
She walked into a fist at 3am. It wasn’t a pleasant 3am fist either; it had bare knuckles that bruised the nose. The fist’s name was Norman. It was brutal and unkind...
Two longlegged creatures named Seth met at a windmill. The first Seth was an ostrich, the second a horse. The horse Seth shouted above the din of the windmill "We are here for a good reason.’" The ostrich Seth chortled “You know it best...”
Out of an outhouse shouted a mouse: “I shit thee not – yet you shit in large, lumpen pots!”
Into a street-corner Quigley cantered a curmudgeon. The curmudgeon was Gaelic, his name was Waylan. And the Quigley was for snooping...
Eleven of my best friends exploded themselves on a bus in Yemen. It was group terrorism gone haywire...
From the great pizzamaking genius of the age came an idea to distribute cheesy delectables to the third world. The pizzas of Sancho Silverthorne were delightful and succulent. Things unlike butter, yet buttery. Things sweet and tawdry they were not...
Of potions, Winston sampled many. Of jewel thieves he knew a dozen. Of lashmaking hooligans he acquainted himself and stole away slurping. It was slurpee season in the post office where Winston toiled, sorting mail, shipping it, opening it illegally and cracking his toes like a man who invented a more delicious lasagna...
What weapons there were in the attic did not interest Giles Huffnagle Troutbubbles. He was not an axe murderer, and that’s why men went into the attic, did they not – to fetch weapons to scare away the neighbourhood children? But no, the 'axe murderer' legend, which he concocted to maintain peace in his square patch of earth, would ultimately lead to asphyxiation...
...Capricorns are everywhere. So what?
Two longlegged creatures named Seth met at a windmill. The first Seth was an ostrich, the second a horse. The horse Seth shouted above the din of the windmill "We are here for a good reason.’" The ostrich Seth chortled “You know it best...”
Out of an outhouse shouted a mouse: “I shit thee not – yet you shit in large, lumpen pots!”
Into a street-corner Quigley cantered a curmudgeon. The curmudgeon was Gaelic, his name was Waylan. And the Quigley was for snooping...
Eleven of my best friends exploded themselves on a bus in Yemen. It was group terrorism gone haywire...
From the great pizzamaking genius of the age came an idea to distribute cheesy delectables to the third world. The pizzas of Sancho Silverthorne were delightful and succulent. Things unlike butter, yet buttery. Things sweet and tawdry they were not...
Of potions, Winston sampled many. Of jewel thieves he knew a dozen. Of lashmaking hooligans he acquainted himself and stole away slurping. It was slurpee season in the post office where Winston toiled, sorting mail, shipping it, opening it illegally and cracking his toes like a man who invented a more delicious lasagna...
What weapons there were in the attic did not interest Giles Huffnagle Troutbubbles. He was not an axe murderer, and that’s why men went into the attic, did they not – to fetch weapons to scare away the neighbourhood children? But no, the 'axe murderer' legend, which he concocted to maintain peace in his square patch of earth, would ultimately lead to asphyxiation...
...Capricorns are everywhere. So what?
1/18/2007
Another unexpected jewel from the archives...
(silliness factor: 9)
The Smelting Panacaea
Smelting was Bob’s obsession. His last name was Toadfeather: Robert Longleggings Toadfeather. How he could smelt! The char destroyed his nostrils and offended his wife’s sensibilities but Bob was stout in his firmness, rigid in his stiffness and thick in his density. It was sanction season at the UN, where Bob smelted, and this brought a touch of ranklish nostalgia whenever discussions turned to Cuba, North Korea or one of the rogue states. ‘My smelting could cure their wayward disobedience,’ thought Bob. And yet his wife was a communist.
Turncoats rankled Bob. His communist wife was chief rankler of his life, or rankless, though she pulled rank. It stank. Bob was a frustrated thespian, a smelter, yes but an actor all at once; his smelting was accomplished during the day, and this left time at night to act. His acting filled the townspeople with bawdy enthusiasms and great oathsmen were heard to utter monstrous items of praise in Bob’s general direction. Patrons and pottymouths shouted at Bob. For he was tall, and stout, like a massive pint of beer that overflows the glass and takes a manlike dimension. So stout was Bob that he took his wife one day by the ankles and flung her round his head like a Chinese butcher tethers a frozen cat. That’s how imposing his figure was. That was Bob: smelter, thespian, communist intolerant and generally flamboyant. While not gay, Bob still pricked his ears at talk of leather chaps. “Sale today at Dwight Von Gaylord’s – are you going Bob?” This kind of question made him hesitant. He was a hesitant metrosexual and leaning toward stick in the mud.
Bob’s wife joined a new communist chapter every week. They sprang up and folded like so many pages of the telephone books. Bob’s wife sauntered from hotspot to hotspot, always with her tea cozies and her hotpots. Bob swore at her to her face, even calling her a ‘Toadfeathered she-hag!’ and wiping her phony eyebrows with steel wool. Bob did not like his wife, but she knew how to drive and he didn’t. For this fact he was trapped- like a man caught in the jaws of a giant cobra will surely be swallowed.
(unfinished of course)
The Smelting Panacaea
Smelting was Bob’s obsession. His last name was Toadfeather: Robert Longleggings Toadfeather. How he could smelt! The char destroyed his nostrils and offended his wife’s sensibilities but Bob was stout in his firmness, rigid in his stiffness and thick in his density. It was sanction season at the UN, where Bob smelted, and this brought a touch of ranklish nostalgia whenever discussions turned to Cuba, North Korea or one of the rogue states. ‘My smelting could cure their wayward disobedience,’ thought Bob. And yet his wife was a communist.
Turncoats rankled Bob. His communist wife was chief rankler of his life, or rankless, though she pulled rank. It stank. Bob was a frustrated thespian, a smelter, yes but an actor all at once; his smelting was accomplished during the day, and this left time at night to act. His acting filled the townspeople with bawdy enthusiasms and great oathsmen were heard to utter monstrous items of praise in Bob’s general direction. Patrons and pottymouths shouted at Bob. For he was tall, and stout, like a massive pint of beer that overflows the glass and takes a manlike dimension. So stout was Bob that he took his wife one day by the ankles and flung her round his head like a Chinese butcher tethers a frozen cat. That’s how imposing his figure was. That was Bob: smelter, thespian, communist intolerant and generally flamboyant. While not gay, Bob still pricked his ears at talk of leather chaps. “Sale today at Dwight Von Gaylord’s – are you going Bob?” This kind of question made him hesitant. He was a hesitant metrosexual and leaning toward stick in the mud.
Bob’s wife joined a new communist chapter every week. They sprang up and folded like so many pages of the telephone books. Bob’s wife sauntered from hotspot to hotspot, always with her tea cozies and her hotpots. Bob swore at her to her face, even calling her a ‘Toadfeathered she-hag!’ and wiping her phony eyebrows with steel wool. Bob did not like his wife, but she knew how to drive and he didn’t. For this fact he was trapped- like a man caught in the jaws of a giant cobra will surely be swallowed.
(unfinished of course)
1/14/2007
Renew your vows!
Oh big bird in the moon, deliver me to June. Sunshine and pretty please, mango and swiss cheese, supped on til belly swells and then naptime cools my coffee mug half drunk in lazy Sunday sultriness.
Half empty, hauling my windless trireme and messed up on Mr. Clean, fumes inhaled after losing a bet; wiped with fastfood napkins and the map of a treasure chest. Whimper by the dock as sailors leave for legacy, I’m locked inside eternity, and hypocrites threaten me with piety; so what if I treated myself to licorice bits after a three-hour workout? I tune it all out, more upset at my burnout I guess, than what the vindictives figure out; still in disbelief at how I turned out.
Why no anniversaries? Or confetti under palm leaves. Frazzled by freakonauts fresh from maternity leave, a spitting image of June Cleaver’s son Beaver- or so I’m flattered by the cleaning lady who’d marry me in microseconds to her daughter Gabrielle. But no, not Gabrielle, no chance in hell - I’d rather be stowed in a whale belly, or forced to join the Navy.
Sentimentality's tempting, but there’s something more sustenant I’d be pre-empting. First-person bloodlettings and group therapy hugfests for neurotics and the depressed? I won’t wear such easy clothes - every swimmer borrows those. I won't put on my blood-red dress. No dirges or hellfire if I'm at my best. So it’s decided – we play at chess! I won’t barf on you, I promise. And I will clean up my mess.
Half empty, hauling my windless trireme and messed up on Mr. Clean, fumes inhaled after losing a bet; wiped with fastfood napkins and the map of a treasure chest. Whimper by the dock as sailors leave for legacy, I’m locked inside eternity, and hypocrites threaten me with piety; so what if I treated myself to licorice bits after a three-hour workout? I tune it all out, more upset at my burnout I guess, than what the vindictives figure out; still in disbelief at how I turned out.
Why no anniversaries? Or confetti under palm leaves. Frazzled by freakonauts fresh from maternity leave, a spitting image of June Cleaver’s son Beaver- or so I’m flattered by the cleaning lady who’d marry me in microseconds to her daughter Gabrielle. But no, not Gabrielle, no chance in hell - I’d rather be stowed in a whale belly, or forced to join the Navy.
Sentimentality's tempting, but there’s something more sustenant I’d be pre-empting. First-person bloodlettings and group therapy hugfests for neurotics and the depressed? I won’t wear such easy clothes - every swimmer borrows those. I won't put on my blood-red dress. No dirges or hellfire if I'm at my best. So it’s decided – we play at chess! I won’t barf on you, I promise. And I will clean up my mess.
1/13/2007
Fanning an old flame
(and smothering it to death)
I don’t remember how
we touched
but won’t forget
how it touched you:
my remembering
how touching it was
that you remembered
my touch.
I don’t remember how
we touched
but won’t forget
how it touched you:
my remembering
how touching it was
that you remembered
my touch.
1/11/2007
I have too many friends!
(and so do you)
I have so many friends
they live around the world
they like to lol with me
some are boys and some are girls
when I say ☺ they do the same
when they are busy they don't say anything
sometimes I don't say nothing, because I'm cool like that
sometimes we both say brb
and there's no arguing with that.
I won’t ask my friends to help me move
or cook me soup when I am sick
I won’t borrow cash from them
because they are just my friends
and I only lol with them
I have 462 friends
I am the champion of friends!
highest ranked on friendster
on my birthday they send e-cards
when I get married they will (K) me
when I die they will :(
I have so many friends
they live around the world
they like to lol with me
some are boys and some are girls
when I say ☺ they do the same
when they are busy they don't say anything
sometimes I don't say nothing, because I'm cool like that
sometimes we both say brb
and there's no arguing with that.
I won’t ask my friends to help me move
or cook me soup when I am sick
I won’t borrow cash from them
because they are just my friends
and I only lol with them
I have 462 friends
I am the champion of friends!
highest ranked on friendster
on my birthday they send e-cards
when I get married they will (K) me
when I die they will :(
1/09/2007
maliciously vague
(and stupidly vague)
something pink struck me, mid think
oh
it bothers my Aunt Betty
she of ol timer skin, overripe pheromones - that senior citizen stink
geezers don’t get it, and I won’t own up;
I get into trouble quaffing bubbles that I blow
every jury hung by an 'I don’t know'
-describing clouds from the inside, mirrored rooms of fog-
if reason is a carrot that's chased by a rabbit, why then
I’m an unpet dog.
something pink struck me, mid think
oh
it bothers my Aunt Betty
she of ol timer skin, overripe pheromones - that senior citizen stink
geezers don’t get it, and I won’t own up;
I get into trouble quaffing bubbles that I blow
every jury hung by an 'I don’t know'
-describing clouds from the inside, mirrored rooms of fog-
if reason is a carrot that's chased by a rabbit, why then
I’m an unpet dog.
1/06/2007
1978-2007
(a true story for the living)
After this morning's breakfast
with an angel
and the afternoon warmth that
reminded me of possibilities,
I looked at the map of Toronto and drove
to Mimico Creek;
where ducks swim
beneath trees in the valley
in the river flowing unfrozen
-walking across wood bridges
with no snow beneath my feet-
I'd never been there before
and wanted to explore:
cute girls with dogs
and senior citizens smiling
the thaw in winter
is what we live for, I
don't mind telling you,
it's our little secret.
Fifteen minutes after leaving the park it
was in my car
on Rexdale Boulevard
by Woodbine Racetrack when
I realized I was having a
panic attack:
it must have been God telling me that
another one of my classmates had died.
My body understood it, felt the news
though I hadn't heard the words
pounding in my chest.
At 427 and Eglinton, afraid to close my eyes
-is it my diet?
....but I had veggies at breakfast-
so why this awful dread?
I silenced my music
and stared at the road
80km/hr in the slow lane
opening and shutting the windows didn't help so
hoping for a friendly voice to help me home, lightheaded with a
knot in my neck
I flipped on the radio
it was 3:45pm
12 hours after his accident
I remember thinking I must get home; there's nothing more lonely
than dying on the road
I told myself I'm not ready
because I didn't want to die alone
-so breathing deeply, panicking, I drove home.
Precisely at that moment on AM 640 the newswoman said
a bright young police officer named
Davis Ahlowalia was
killed in a tragic crash this morning, along with two others
whose names have not been released.
I didn't make the connection until the announcer said
he was 28 years old.
I was suddenly calmer and deeply sad
I said a prayer:
I don't believe he's dead
please, oh please, get Davis
home, and
get me home
I think of the wounded survivors, Matt and Stevie Moore;
I remember Graeme and Stu and Adam-
plane, car, and tragedy-
and I marvel at how long I've been along this road and
wonder
why I haven't died
and at home in my inbox were urgent emails
from old friends;
so I wrote this for them
to let them and my dead friends know how
we know they haven't died.
Gentlemen: we have lived well, and suffered much.
There is nothing words can say today -
and yet, I think, if we have lived well, somehow that is enough.
After this morning's breakfast
with an angel
and the afternoon warmth that
reminded me of possibilities,
I looked at the map of Toronto and drove
to Mimico Creek;
where ducks swim
beneath trees in the valley
in the river flowing unfrozen
-walking across wood bridges
with no snow beneath my feet-
I'd never been there before
and wanted to explore:
cute girls with dogs
and senior citizens smiling
the thaw in winter
is what we live for, I
don't mind telling you,
it's our little secret.
Fifteen minutes after leaving the park it
was in my car
on Rexdale Boulevard
by Woodbine Racetrack when
I realized I was having a
panic attack:
it must have been God telling me that
another one of my classmates had died.
My body understood it, felt the news
though I hadn't heard the words
pounding in my chest.
At 427 and Eglinton, afraid to close my eyes
-is it my diet?
....but I had veggies at breakfast-
so why this awful dread?
I silenced my music
and stared at the road
80km/hr in the slow lane
opening and shutting the windows didn't help so
hoping for a friendly voice to help me home, lightheaded with a
knot in my neck
I flipped on the radio
it was 3:45pm
12 hours after his accident
I remember thinking I must get home; there's nothing more lonely
than dying on the road
I told myself I'm not ready
because I didn't want to die alone
-so breathing deeply, panicking, I drove home.
Precisely at that moment on AM 640 the newswoman said
a bright young police officer named
Davis Ahlowalia was
killed in a tragic crash this morning, along with two others
whose names have not been released.
I didn't make the connection until the announcer said
he was 28 years old.
I was suddenly calmer and deeply sad
I said a prayer:
I don't believe he's dead
please, oh please, get Davis
home, and
get me home
I think of the wounded survivors, Matt and Stevie Moore;
I remember Graeme and Stu and Adam-
plane, car, and tragedy-
and I marvel at how long I've been along this road and
wonder
why I haven't died
and at home in my inbox were urgent emails
from old friends;
so I wrote this for them
to let them and my dead friends know how
we know they haven't died.
Gentlemen: we have lived well, and suffered much.
There is nothing words can say today -
and yet, I think, if we have lived well, somehow that is enough.
1/03/2007
The Shirtless Sherpa
(zassafraz factor:11)
Was it the shirt he forgot? He drove a leopard to work. It was the Himalayas so of course the high altitude can be used as an excuse. No gas in the car, no air in the tires, it was a reason to exhale. People tended to be silly, but so what – it was not that kind of September.
Of poison there was too much, of pizza not enough. Things were frozen and jellied, swollen and brown like too much muckraking. Bisons exploded along the water and nobody wiped the entrails. Many prawns died in the flute nook.
Did envelopes matter anymore? Of course someone’s cousin always cornered the gazpacho and drank, until Tuesday seemed like a better idea than Wednesday. It was a dissociation of vocabulary that drew elliptical tangents together in a coherent driving rhythm. But where were the denouements when you needed them? And why whisper to the wallpaper; things get written anyway, whether observing or absorbing.
For instance, last October eleven tapioca muffins congregated at a stool. And a bartender bet his retirement savings on a sixpack.
(a letter on behalf of my nephew, who cannot yet read:)
Dear Santa,
My nephew J is cute. He likes Star Wars and Superman but I think Star Wars even more. Master Yoda once called me and asked if J would like to be a Jedi. I said ''He would be a good Jedi one day’. Anyway I think you should give him a new lightsabre but only if he eats his own food and not the food on the floor.
Sincerely,
the Dog
Was it the shirt he forgot? He drove a leopard to work. It was the Himalayas so of course the high altitude can be used as an excuse. No gas in the car, no air in the tires, it was a reason to exhale. People tended to be silly, but so what – it was not that kind of September.
Of poison there was too much, of pizza not enough. Things were frozen and jellied, swollen and brown like too much muckraking. Bisons exploded along the water and nobody wiped the entrails. Many prawns died in the flute nook.
Did envelopes matter anymore? Of course someone’s cousin always cornered the gazpacho and drank, until Tuesday seemed like a better idea than Wednesday. It was a dissociation of vocabulary that drew elliptical tangents together in a coherent driving rhythm. But where were the denouements when you needed them? And why whisper to the wallpaper; things get written anyway, whether observing or absorbing.
For instance, last October eleven tapioca muffins congregated at a stool. And a bartender bet his retirement savings on a sixpack.
(a letter on behalf of my nephew, who cannot yet read:)
Dear Santa,
My nephew J is cute. He likes Star Wars and Superman but I think Star Wars even more. Master Yoda once called me and asked if J would like to be a Jedi. I said ''He would be a good Jedi one day’. Anyway I think you should give him a new lightsabre but only if he eats his own food and not the food on the floor.
Sincerely,
the Dog
1/02/2007
Preparing for my latest embarrassment
(the calm before the rejection; also - why our friendship has a hole in it)
either I’m disingenuously naive
or superstitious
or fatally me,
pretending honesty isn’t my fault
that ignorance of your mindset isn’t my fault
spoiled by innocence, expecting too much of
grace. Just like a poet.
oh me
falling victim to the
memory of her honesty
again
expecting someone else to love honesty
as much as she
expecting ‘I like you’ not
to become
‘I freak you out’
just another sweet dismissal, or
fodder for an elegant epistle
planting seeds for the
bittersweet reversal, ie
years from now
when you look at me with big eyes
but all I hear are echoes of
my honest mistake and
your stupid pride
and then my stupid mistake:
my wounded dishonest pride begrudging
your self-inflated, knee-jerk
retreat; you so ignorant
of all that's stillborn
and me painfully aware of what never was and
we both teased by what
could have been sweet.
either I’m disingenuously naive
or superstitious
or fatally me,
pretending honesty isn’t my fault
that ignorance of your mindset isn’t my fault
spoiled by innocence, expecting too much of
grace. Just like a poet.
oh me
falling victim to the
memory of her honesty
again
expecting someone else to love honesty
as much as she
expecting ‘I like you’ not
to become
‘I freak you out’
just another sweet dismissal, or
fodder for an elegant epistle
planting seeds for the
bittersweet reversal, ie
years from now
when you look at me with big eyes
but all I hear are echoes of
my honest mistake and
your stupid pride
and then my stupid mistake:
my wounded dishonest pride begrudging
your self-inflated, knee-jerk
retreat; you so ignorant
of all that's stillborn
and me painfully aware of what never was and
we both teased by what
could have been sweet.
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