Monday, December 1, 2003
From the “This Just In” Department:
Noses form Union. Several are running for president. Reportedly there are a few early drop outs that have already blown their campaign budgets. In France there is a general Nasal strike scheduled, picket lines are forming as we speak.
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Sunday, November 30, 2003
Shiny new Snow Blower
Snow removal, I have decided, is not a job suited for ancient technology such as snow shovels. What I need is a shiny new snow blower. That will make this arduous task something I will look forward to! So there it is in the back of my pickup glistening in the failing light of dusk and I am eager to unload it and get on with blowing some snow. It looks sorta heavy though. The neighbors have already gathered at their windows to watch this process. Somehow, my yard maintenance efforts have become a...
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Saturday, November 29, 2003
In the lane, snow is glisnen’
In the garage the snow shovel is not. It is all rusty and bent with a handle held together with two and a half rolls of duct tape. Really, I would be better off to get one of those new space age jobs with the ergonomic handle. Then I remember I tried one once. It made my back feel like I had been riding a mechanical bull with a bag of cement on each shoulder. And the snow just fell off the thing. I think they should have make the curvature of the shovel part just the opposite of what they did....
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Wednesday, November 26, 2003
Weird phrases.
Little Jr. Rockefeller and his sister are playing catch with a Ming Vase (the kind that are pronounced Vahz, dahling) when Papa enters the room. Immediately he bellows, “Put that down, I paid good money for that!” A common phrase “I paid good money for that” but I got to thinking of a permutation of that phrase, and it would be used thus: Little Godfather Jr. and his sister are playing catch with a Ming Vase (just some f***ing jar that your mother wanted) when the king of counterfeiting enters...
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The Dangers of getting roasted.
A good reason to quit smoking pot. One Thanks Giving in the late ‘60s some friends were sitting around passing the time, indulging heavily in “Mary Jane”. Joint after joint was passed among the very hip group, until it was decided, “hey man, we oughta do somethin’”. With the room sliding and spinning like it was an out of control rainbow tilt-a-whirl it was a major effort to turn on the radio. But no matter how intently they watched, the radio was boring. More joints passed around. It was...
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Friday, November 21, 2003
Leave me alone!
Ah ‘tis fall, and an old man’s fancy turns to thoughts of raking leaves. As I look for the rake, further threats of moving into a condo are forming along the edges of my disenchantment. Raking leaves is what really drove Scrooge over the edge. Wet soppy flattened leaves that by now have been impaled by the spiny grass. The rake is hanging just where I knew it would be, under the garden cultivator, shovel, shears, and snow shovel. I know it never works to take all those implements down in one...
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Thursday, November 13, 2003
Iraq get off our back!
Paul Bremer returned to Washington D.C. for a hasty meeting with President Bush. In the face of rising attatcks against U. S. troops, it was decided to outfit our fighting forces with shrapnel-proof jock straps and bras. Because as everyone knows....... The best part about waking up, is having soldiers in their cups.
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Wednesday, October 29, 2003
UFOs
All so grand descending from the Mother Ship In and out of our lives they invisibly slip. Their must be some hidden away Somewhere Scientists busy solving the mystery Of just exactly what device is the Captains Chair? Roswell Roswell What did ye see? Nothing or something Or something that was nothing Had ‘ere been seen before. Earth floats in the midst of stars Surely the only spacecraft aren’t ours. What tales do you take back home? Were you watching as I made this poem? Always grandiose...
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Thursday, October 23, 2003
When Limericks go bad.
There was a Michigan man overdosed on Viagra, floated unprotected down the river at Niagra. He went over the falls, didn’t bruise his balls but unfortunately he had to move to Nantucket.
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Wednesday, October 22, 2003
The only thing worse than a bad pun, is a horrible pun.
Ok, if you were to invent an ink pen (I really hate to use that term, but it works here, I think) that could propel itself around the page and create on its own volition, what form of verse would it write? I am Bic pentameter, of course.
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