An Open Letter To Mr. or Ms. Human Person

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Dear Person,

I hope you are well, and that you and your pets (real or imaginary) are having great satisfaction with whatever it is you are doing during the wee hours of Yes Perhaps Maybe which of course began on Jangulary 34, 2017.7 under all those leaky sinks that have never been polished since that gigantic snowstorm we never had in our living room. Do you know what I mean??

I have absolutely no recollection of these things.

However, I am fully aware that we can rebuild America with goat inspection tools and fried bilge pumps. You of all people should know what I’m screaming about when I place my hand in the large pot of boiling Tootsie Roll bladder worms! Don’t try to give me that sheepish, innocent gumdrop gesture that I can neither see nor smell from here. I know full well what you’re up to, Mr. or Ms. Human Person!! Why can’t you just learn to yodel under water like all the normal giblet baskets?? Do you think you’re special or something (well, you are, whether you like it or not)?

Do you know who this is?? Do you know who you’re talking to??

Well I know exactly who it was. He was here with his pet vinegaroon, boldly going where no plant has grown before. You see, there are things that can be snipped into small bark flavored candy snacks, and there are other socket wrenches that simply don’t know how to spell “boink.” You simply have to be patient with the chocolate slide and jump off to Monico when you’ve discovered those silly Colorado M&Ms. You know the place… they have snot on the mountain tops.

As you enjoy this new and underwhelming decade of happiness, I must impart upon you my great knowledge; which I have spent many years of careful research and verbosity to inject. My great wisdom that I have learned (and for that matter, am still learning) from my many hours on this Planet We Call Zingletroan (PWCZ) is simply this, and I quote:

“I don’t know anything.

I never did know anything.

But now I know I don’t know anything!!”

I quote this from my favorite Christmas movie “Scrooge,” the one from 1951 starring Alistair Sim. I say it often, and when I go to “those meetings” I proudly announce that in addition to being allergic to ethanol (makes me break out in traffic violations) I’m also trying to recover from Mr. Know It All Disease. My friends are all very slowly crawling away when they hear this, and they show their amplification by offering me large wads of crumpled potato skins in exchange for the contents of my wallet. Immediately following such a transaction, I gladly tell them how to reach an undesirable destination and also provide instructions on how they might occupy their time once they arrive.

In closing, I would very much like to tell you all something that I am having difficulty outlining with very fat crayons. So I guess I just won’t say anything further; but I will indeed further my career as Chief Mustard Acrobat at the amazing clock factory I keep in my kitchen cabinets.

Sincerely (but not entirely) yours,

Melvin G. Yankpopper

a.k.a. “Purplefoot Giggletoss”

English The Mangle I Enjoy

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Dear Friends,

I am hope you are not cry of the way my typing put words to the eyes of you. I am decide that because the news is hurt my nostrils very ouch this month year, I have been wanted to make laugh with bad practice (or maybe malpractice) of the English using. Also seldom but often I must invent words while the fingers slap this keyboard to noggle your hinterbloops until your smiling jumps backward during the Boiling Antler Realignment Fixtures (B.A.R.F.). In edition butt all sew, I may place words that sound like watt I mean but are knot the write words. So today I am break from nobody’s Bahama Llamas without forcefully project flotation of sinking waterlogged pretzel carriers. You, of all, people. Know what I mean? Isn’t it confusing! When someone punctuates a sentence! Incorrectly even though it is really? A sentence fragment?? And therefore not a sentence? At all??

This instantly although very, very, slowly reminds me of the bad usage. Of commas. Or the forgetting. Of them. For the example, I will bring to your face the intentions of my example that below this typing of total barf-a-roo is crumpling.

Hear now is a foopy example of a comma prevention of death of elders:

Let’s eat Grandma!! (Are we to really devour Grandma??)

Let’s eat, Grandma!! (Oh Holy Wow!! C’mon Grandma, let’s eat awreddy!!)

So as you can see, Grandma’s life was saved by the insertion of a comma into the sentence; because it’s well known that cannibals have always been stopped dead in their tracks by commas while small birds flopped luminously through inverted snack tables made of inferior materials that have often been referred to as pure junk, but what the hey we got them at BugMart for the mere price of $12.37 with tax and why not try them out on those silly birds who obviously don’t even know they’re stuck in this ridiculous run-on sentence which is yet another example of very bad use of sentence structure and therefore slapping impudence in the face of any professor who may be reading this on the subway.

Thank you.

Yew sea, my goal in this small part of my life is two inject poorly amplified participles into the brains of others while they are going working on burned toast while saying things like “Hey all these participles are making my face say things I normally wood knot say.” And if I have convinced both or none of you to slurp loudly while eating a stalk of salary, well of coarse I have accomplished my task of beaming subliminal sectional sofa repair instructions into your daily speech repertoire.

You may thank me someday for this.

I must Finnish this silly scribbling now, as I fear that any further exposure to such garbonkulous yet stinky crabless salad may damage your hematoma. Sew I will clothes with the old saying that I invented many yargons ago but has failed to become a meme:

“It’s better to be you than for you to be me, and although you can count to it, EIGHT is a word.“

Thank you, and please slide safely through the slimy hallways of life.

Yours with no socks,

Rambledork G. Phlegmfinder

a.k.a. “Herbert The Human Cat”

So now let’s turn the clock back when movies were silent and often very funny.

Ready, Set… Comfort Food!!!

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Once upon a time my amazing partner Debi and her theater friend Connie didn’t leave yet but pretty soon they will be heading to Noo Yawk City to see a bunch of Broadway shows and she asked me if I wanted to go and I said “Well, I’m way behind in the garden so not right now;” and then she asked if I was OK with her going and I said “Sure;” and so she and Connie are heading out Sunday night late for a choo choo train ride to The Big Apple but the train tracks are kaputt so they have to take a bus (YUCK) to Toledo but they will have the train all the way home and don’t you think I should cease and desist with this run-on sentence awreddy??

Yes, I should; so I will. *Whew!!* that’s better.

Anywho-how, I will be left unsupervised for a week with her dog Zippy and my two cats Luna and Ivy Anne. I may or may not choose to party down in her absence. Who am I fooling?? I will indeed party down!! You see, Debi and I were raised on different food things while growing up. She has always been vegetarian… and I have always been an omnivore. Well, not always. My wife and I were vegetarian for many moons during the first several years of our marriage. We also enjoyed numerous meatless meals even after we resumed eating meat. Although I’m very satisfied with vegetarian meals (I’m the cook); I sometimes get a hankering for the food that comes from dead animals.

Mmmm yesss… I found a package of shrimp in the freezer yesterday. That will definitely be on the menu sauteed with garlic and fresh garden greens. Maybe have it with the frozen leftover vegetarian jambalaya I made last week. And I believe I’ll get me some freshly harvested fried chicken that was picked from those amazing fried chicken bushes by carefully trained artisans at the local grocery store deli. Yes, that would be truly delicious. Of course, if I am foolish enough to eat at home, Luna the Psychic Fried Chicken Addict (she’s a cat, remember?) will magically appear at my feet with wide eyes and eager anticipation of a handout. Luna will undoubtedly be swiftly followed by Zippy and then Ivy Anne will beg in last place. Each will get a portion of my comfort food cache.

Gee I wonder how they got so darn spoiled??

Oh yes my friends, there will be serious partying going on in Bear Swamp next week. I may even accidentally go to Family Dollar for a bag of Wise potato chips. That there’s soul food from when I was a kid on Long Island!! Never expected to find them in Beautiful West Michigan but I stumbled upon them a few years ago. Oh yeah, I almost forgot the Vernors ginger ale from the local Speedway gas station. They even let me buy Cheetos and the Reese’s crunchy chocolate bar things, Peanut M&Ms!!

I also may accidentally get an ice cream cone or two or twelve or perhaps nineteen.

I’ll been having a grand old time burping loudly and not even saying “Excuse me!” Ha ha on everyone who will not be present to enjoy my melodious belches!! Since you will not be invited to the belch party, please be aware that I do not intend to share my comfort foods with anyone but the three fur babies. It’s just too bad for the likes of youse!! Later on, I might even treat myself to a Marx Brothers movie!! And why not, my amazing partner and her friend will be over 700 miles away and they can’t stop me!! Nyaa nyaa na boo boo!!

This kind of partying is far superior to the kind I once… um.. enjoyed? I say, “enjoyed?” with a question mark because there were all too many times I was ingesting intoxicants under the premise of having fun, when in fact I was really harming myself. All that youthful partying began with fun, then fun became mixed with poor choices; produced serious problems.  The last portion of my journey into mind altered oblivion ushered in some even worse choices; so that part of the ride was anything but fun. I truthfully do NOT miss those times. Fortunately I received what I refer to as a “gift of desperation” that gave me the ability to find paths to recovery from drug and alcohol addiction. Life is very good these days, so my cholesterol party is more than enough enjoyment for me; thank you very much.

To paraphrase Robin from the 1960s Batman series, “Holy Cholesterol, Batman!!”

Several rock stars (and other folks of course) have had similar intoxicant partying journeys, all too many are dead. Most of the ones who survived, however, have changed their ways; and one guy by the name of Richard Starkey is a favorite of mine. His stage name is Ringo Starr, and he had some fun with part of his story in a catchy little tune known as “The No No Song.”

Vegetarian “Jambalaya” ??

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Ummm no, I don’t think there’s any such thing as vegetarian jambalaya. So for all youse purists out there, please don’t spit on the screen when I tell you that I made a dish that I’m calling Vegetarian “Jambalaya.” See how I did that?? I put “Jambalaya” in quotes because it’s make-a-believe Jambalaya.

Ha ha!! I laugh now!!

You see, it’s like this: Mike, my brother from another mother, has been kind enough to do my taxes for the last several years. He refuses to take any money for this huge favor, so when I ask “What would you like in return for doing taxes this year?” the response often involves food. That’s very OK with me… I really like food. So this year, he requested jambalaya; and last weekend on Mothers Day I finally got off my hiney and made up a batch of Shrimp and Sausage Jambalaya from a recipe I downloaded about 16 years ago. Because I love each and every one of youse, you can click on the image below and go to Emeril’s site for some nice carnivorous jambalaya ideas.

Well boys and girls, you may well ask, “So what’s up with this Vegetarian ‘Jambalaya’ stuff?? Anyhow??” Well you see, it’s like this: my amazing partner Debi and I each lost our spouses at different times together. Neither of us wanted to remain alone for our last years, so we went to www.ourtime.com in search for a possible companion. After thorough interrogation (a week’s worth of multi-hour phone calls), we checked every box we could think of and decided we’d go ahead and meet in person. During one of the calls, she said, “I need to tell you something about myself that you might not like.” My brain said “Uh-oh,” but my mouth said, “What’s that??” “I’m a vegetarian,” she replied. My response: “Oh!! No worries, my wife and I were vegetarian for several years. I know how to do that.” She was relieved to know that I also like to cook, because she does not.

When I made the “meat lover’s” jambalaya for our Mothers Day gathering, it came out pretty darn good. Complemented it with a nice salad. Wasn’t sure if the grandsons would go for jambalaya, so I also made pizza… one with meat and one without. Just wanted to make sure that nobody, including Debi, was left wanting. So then I says to myself, “Hey you with the face!! I bet you could make some jambalaya without meat!!” And by golly I did, and it tasted pretty darn good.

Fortunately for me, Debi is vegetarian, but not vegan. Otherwise I’d have to get me some new cookbooks!! For those who don’t know, that means she will eat eggs and dairy products.

And again, because I love each and every one of youse, please click on the image below if you’d like to have my recipe for Vegetarian “Jambalaya”.

Well I hope you try some jambalaya some time, whether it’s carnivorous or vegetarian. But regarding vegetables, if any of them are suspected of committing a crime, just remember that the mice are probably to blame. If you don’t believe me, just watch this very informative cartoon!!

An Anonymous Greeting To All Friends, From Me

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Dear Purple Trees,

Because I consider all of you the very best of friends, I just wanted to write a note to let you know how much love is stored for each and every one of you in this 7 trillion gallon container that sits on my mantle each and every stinking day.

As you know, dirt has been falling from our ceilings for at least 13 minutes, and all oatmeal is beginning to taste a lot like Christmas. After all, who would have guessed that the cats could use a grease gun for a nutritious Moose Hammer??

OH MY GOD!!! Those marshmallows are sucking the wax out of my ears again!! This is no time to visit Mars for crying out loud!! Get back in this coffee jar and start twinkling!! What, do you actually think you can let the air out of a person’s fingernails and suddenly become blonde??? SHEESH!! It’s like you don’t even WANT to bite clam shells!!

I feel it’s my duty to report that my cats were trying to elevate their level of consciousness the other day by trimming their whiskers with a pencil eraser. Not sure why they chose a yellow raisin filter instead of a fluffy carpet hamper, but now both of them have kidneys that glow in the dark. We have actually resorted to covering them with a large garage opener so we can sleep at night.

They are not amused.

I’m sure I can speak sincerely when I say that my sneakers smell rather like Antarctic lobsters lying in a hot October softball casserole. So, if you ever get an overwhelming desire to sleep with a casserole, please wait until the October sneaker lobsters smell like your favorite crunchy cabbage cookies. That oughta show those sneakers who’s boss!!

OK my dear friends, it’s time for me to rotate my Cottonelle Instant Breakfast. I do hope that none of you continue to lick newspapers until the cows come back to Vegas.

I’m glad that all of you are, because if you were not, you would not be, and I’ve always been happy to see that each and every one of youse really are indeed being. (You have probably been being all along but never even knew it!!)

Have you seen my carbon flavored waffle socks?? I seem to have misplaced my dandruff torch.

Peace, Love, and Indivisibility,

Kenny Picklewort

a.k.a. “Cecil Snackwonder”

Well… after that intense does of nonsensical angularity, perhaps you would now enjoy some more sensible cantaloupe toenails. This video will in no way soothe your dusty snouts.

Septuagenarian Snappencrackle

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Something has gone afoul over the years. My body somehow seems to be in some sort of rebellion against activity!! And the rebellion seems to be getting more and more vociferous as time passes. This probably has been happening gradually over the years, but seems like it’s a bit more frequent these days. Might be due to becoming a septuagenarian 2 years ago. Two years!! Sheesh!! By the way, if any of youse “youngstahs” are reading: no, a septuagenarian is not a person who has difficulty waiting for September to arrive.

What?? You knew that??

Oh.

Septuagenarian… hmmm… sounds like a person who is a caretaker at a wildlife preserve or something.

So there I was, minding my own business, 2 years ago, turning 70, and thinking, “Wow, this is kinda weird!! My brain says I’m in my 30s but my body is not looking that way at all!! And what the HECK is all this hair growing in my ears?? And the balding… sheesh, is the hair migrating or something?? And my joints seem to think they need to report with a ** POP ** every time I move!! And sometimes it hurts me awreddy!! Oh… and do I have an expiration date now??”

Yes, my brain thing said exactly those things.

So last month I turned seventy two years old… wow. You know what that means, right?? Yep… I was 15 when Woodstock was happening. Oh, you didn’t think about that one? Well of course not, why would you? Just because it was like 57 years ago… YIKES!!! So… 72… you know what that means, right?? Yep… now I can enjoy Medicare!! Yee haaaa!!! And I’ve been retired for 5 years awreddy!!! Maybe I’m getting old (?). As I tell all the “kids” (people much younger than me): I can clearly remember when The Beatles came to America on the Mayflower!! It was pretty doggoned exciting really.

OK, so I’m 72. Sheesh again!!! I hear my ankles pop when I get out of bed. My hip hurts and I don’t know why. The other day I lifted something that wasn’t even heavy, and my wrist has pain like someone ran it through with a giant ice pick. I go to bed, maybe take some aspirin, and feel fine in the morning. Then I go to do something else that never bothered me and something else says ouch now!! Several of my friends are complaining about similar occurrences.

This should not happen to gentle people like us!!

There was a time when I was scared out of my brain thing of getting really old. Now I’m doing my to be grateful for each moment of each day. I’m still physically able to do what I did when I was 30. Sometimes it takes longer, and sometimes it hurts. Sometimes both. But I don’t have to look far to realize that there are many, many souls on this planet that are way worse off than me. I’m blessed to be able to say I’m a very fortunate person.

Now it’s getting late outside, and I’ll be going to bed soon. Tomorrow is another day that I’m sure will be full of more snap, crackle, and pop adventures. That’s right friends, my body is starting to sound like a big bowl of Kellogg’s Rice Crispies.

No added milk required!!

Being old isn’t so bad… just hope I don’t end up like The Old Man Of The Mountain…

Nonsensical Stress Removal Tools

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An Open Letter To All Earthling Human Folks

Dear Nazneltroans,

As I’ve lamented previously, I’m finding the news consistently grinkly these days, and although I have invented every single solution to every single problem in the whole universe, I will not be so arrogant as to suggest that I have invented every single solution to every single problem in the whole universe; but instead will begin this odorless document with a deliciously colorful, black and white run-on sentence that has likely already begun to annoy your eyeballs with liberty and justice for all.

In other words, if you choose to read any further, I will offer a few strange utterings that I consider to be nonsensical stress removal tools. These will be presented to all of you free of charge, as I beseech you to realize that such wackadoodles have many times prevented me from suffering cranial explosions while sleeping in the closet.

Awk, awk!!

You see, when I was very young I discovered that silliness can be a wonderful distraction from events that were horrible, yet were completely out of my control. It was during my early childhood that I began a quest for stress relief; and because Mom planted me in front of the TV shortly after exiting the womb (1954 in my case), my research led me to such trusted resources as The Marx Brothers, The Three Stooges, Red Skelton and many similar amplified flavor crystals. The result of my studies have not completely alleviated my need to cry at times, but my learnings have certainly proven that laughing is very helpful.

Please pass the cabbage!!

Now that I’ve lost your attention, please remember not to pick my dog’s nose with a small Chevy convertible. Why would you enjoy throwing chowder at the wall?? Of course, when goldfish ovulate there is a very loud “BROOP” sound. But this is no excuse for tying licorice to the mailbox.

So many times I’ve reflected! Other times I’ve simply absorbed. The physics of nuisance vegetables can be mind crackling; with a subtle hint of gasoline. Did you know if you mix German chocolate monkey soup with very small pieces of asparagus, the Tooth Fairy will induce vomiting in Walmart at 10:47 PM this coming Sunday? Obviously this will renew all rake handles in the Baby Poop Forest.

Well Dear Friends, please allow me to bury all your tableware during our next visit. In fact, each time we press bologna into the underside of an apple, large toothpicks seem to imbed themselves in my slime candles. I know this may seem odd; but if my magnetic toaster makes any more gravy noises, I fear the neighbors will begin “The Cat Straightening Ritual” with renewed vinegar.

OK. Now that you’ve been totally immersed in rice lava; please remain aware that in spite of all of the insanity swirling about on planet Earth, the mere fact that you are a person gives me great cause to beam several billion metric lumens of love to you, whether you like it or not.

Yes.

I once read a quote that, “Nature is God’s reflection.” I’ve often uttered this quote at various gatherings. Upon hearing me say it, some wisenheimer said to me, “So Ken, that means all of us are part of that reflection, right?” And of course I had to agree. Therefore, I consider it my responsibility to love everyone. Yes, EVERYONE. So I do my best to follow through on that premise.

However, there are some humans in this world that I likely will never invite for dinner; ya know what I’m sayin’??

Alrighty then. I would like to close by sending all of you sincerely heartfelt happy gestures and smiles that can be smelled for hundreds of millimeters. This, of course, is spite of my strong belief that next winter may have a strong yellow odor. Not to worry, all can be cured with a healthy dose of Milk of Amnesia.

Thank you; and for goodness sake, please stay crinkly.

Yours with great indigestion,

Kenny “You Gonna Eat That??” Floopengrouk

And now for some fun clips…

Peepers and Peeps

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‘Twas the 1st of April, but no foolin’, we heard our first peepers. Now Easter has come and gone and several more have awoken. That, of course, means that as the weather warms up this month, we’ll be hearing a chorus so loud we’ll have to raise our voices each evening in order to communicate. It seems this warming up came pretty abruptly these past several years… HOLY MOLY it was warm today but now I must inject a smidge of sarcasm; but not really, but maybe yes, I just don’t know, but this seems to be as good a place as any to inject an run-on sentence and whine about the upcoming cold nights and HOLY COW it’s supposed to be in the 40s tonight which means any peepers that may have awoken might go back to bed but it’s also supposed to be colder again tomorrow so whodaheck knows but then the rains are gonna come again and oh boy howdy the peepers will really start singing then!

For those who are unaware, peepers are frogs; and are a welcome sign of spring here in Beautiful West Michigan. Of course, they usher in springtime elsewhere too. But I don’t live elsewhere, I live here, so I’m always a little giddy when the peepers sing. If you’ve never heard peepers, well that’s just too bad. But because I love them so, I hereby include a recording of them for you so you too can enjoy their songs. Now the sounds in this recording are from two different species:  peepers and toads (the peepers are the ones shouting, “PEEP!!”).  Just turn on your speakers, click on the little triangle thingy, close your eyes and open your ears. Why close your eyes? Well that’s because the peepers sing at night, and to be honest I’ve never seen them except on TV!! OK, here we go…

And now for something completely different: Peeps. You know, those marshmallow candy chickens that appear in the stores during Easter time. When I was a kid, peeps only were yellow and chicken shaped. The name and the shape went well together; because hey, they kinda looked like little baby chickens. And little baby chickens say “peep” a lot. I’ve never eaten a real baby chicken, but I sure have had my share of Peeps. Now I would never intentionally harm a baby chicken. But regarding Peeps, well just never you mind all the naughty things that went through my mind when the Peeps arrived in my Easter basket.

I admit it, I have squished their little heads. I place my forefinger on one eye and my thumb on the other, and press them together until the Peep’s head looks like one of those cartoon characters that had a very bad accident. I have also decapitated them with great delight. Usually their heads are removed with my teeth. In fact, I don’t think I can ever remember eating them any other way. I’ve never forced them to joust though. Seems like a waste of Peeps if you ask me.

Joust?? Yes, I’m not sure I’m happy to know about it; but a friend once told me about “Peep jousting.” Of course, I just had to ask what the heck-a-ma-hookey that was all about. “Well you get two Peeps and place a toothpick in each one. That’s their lance, you see. Then you put them on a plate and pop them in the microwave; hit the juice and watch them stab each other as they expand. Really cool in a microwave with a rotating plate inside!”

Ummm no. Rather boring really. Yes, I tried it, with family watching. We were not impressed.

Back the peepers… there’s a song about them that has been a jazz standard for many years. It originated back in 1938, and below is a clip with Louis Armstrong playing his horn and singing it in “Going Places,” the movie for which the song was written. When I grew up during the Mesozoic Era, this song was still being played somewhat regularly and was often featured on an extinct brand of TV program called the “variety show.” The second video is a 1958 recording of Louis Armstrong swingin’ it on one of those prehistoric variety thingies called “The Gary Moore Show.”

My Brand New iPhone 8

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Well here we are again, snacking on yet another “Happy Friday!!!” My sincere hope is that all or none of you find some solace in this solar sanitation secretion after looking at the radio or reading the news on TV. I mean, there’s an awful lot of awful going on in the world these days; but I’m not going to venture into snarbbling or rant loudly with perkapachoopy bird fart dessert toppings.

It’s just too doggone painful!!

No, instead I think I’ll just reflect on how blessed I am. For example, I have plenty to eat, a warm, safe place to sleep, a most amazing “new” partner (we’ve been a couple for a little over a year now)… I could go on and on but I think you get the idea.

I also have stuff!! Too darn much stuff really. For example take my iPhone. No really!! Just take it!! No… not really. It’s mine and you may not have it. Yes, as you may have inferred by the title of this document, I am the proud owner of a brand new iPhone 8. I received it from work back in 2022 I think… no wait!! Might have been 2018!! Heck I dunno… I’ve had it for a long time. I just keep it in an Otterbox Defender case and I can run over it with a bulldozer so it will be completely destroyed. Since I don’t have a bulldozer, I’m just grateful that the Otterbox Defender case keeps it pretty much indestructible and it still works just fine.

And no, I don’t need a new one, thank you anyway!! Sheesh, I just had the battery replaced a couple months ago!! Only cost me $63.70… but I gave the guy $75 because he is a business owner / sales / repair guy (looks like he’s a one-man operation); plus he did a great job pretty quickly.

I retired from the computer work world universe, and although I do enjoy technological toys, mine are (obviously) mostly prehistoric ones. I’m one of those weirdos who carefully researches electronic stuff before buying; then I spend a little more on quality stuff because I know it will last a while. You know, my Pioneer dual cassette player / recorder deck still works very well. I’ve only had it for about 24 years so I figure it’s likely I’ll be able to get a few more weeks of use out of it. Maybe even another 24 years!! Oh yeah, I bought my Yamaha HTR5490 receiver / amplifier around the same time so I figure it’s gonna have a 25th birthday soon too.

If you have any inkling that I enjoy living in the Jurassic period of technology, I would have to reinforce your perceptions by saying “Yes I do, and I like it very much thank you.” Then I will snicker and snergle which will perhaps cause all or none of you will be defended; and of course if that is the case I shall broop and geschnibble until the Lower Moon sinks into the toilet tank. Besides, if you’ve ever slept inside a small spare tire, you’d be surprised to learn that some molecules smell better outside than they do inside.

Now it’s very much past time to blurt out a very serious question to all involved: “Does a Heffalump have a whole lump or a half a lump?” Questions such as these could of course cause a run-on sentence unless they are kept in a well lit pantry for at least 12; but when crickets finally resign from their duties as auto mechanics, only the most critical crayon rashes can prevent a hummingbird moth from knocking on xylophone bones during The Great Pine Cone Races which are held annually each year with a spacing of 12 months at a time on the order of 1/10th of a decade and like, you know, sometimes but not really.

OK??

Yes, have some.

Alrighty then. I suppose I’ll just resume washing the television shows I very much enjoy while all the silly, battery operated concrete blocks jump wildly from lane to lane on the interstate railroads. Is any of this making sense to you? I hope not!! If you are having difficulty looking for a “hidden meaning” or some sort of “symbolic embolism” or perhaps are seeking a “rational radiator” in all of this, please mail $12.37 and 17 box tops to:

Yodel Screechers Anonymous
24-7 Wildebeest Way
Honkingtown, Indibraskalania 49001-5

Ask for Mr. Rumpkin.

I leave you now with some very undergrown words that I never but always am urging with complete indigestion:

It is always better to be you than for you to be me, and although you can count to it, “eight” is a word.

Peace, Love, and Fuzzy Earlobes,

Hyram C. Gilmore
Professor of Turnip Juice
Gutcramp University

And now for something completely different. Well, maybe not completely…

Is Anyone Out There?

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So here we go with another moon voyage. Sure, it’s exciting, but in my professional opinion there are quite a few problems to be solved right here on Earth; so I often wonder why so much is spent on space missions and nowhere near enough is spent on taking care of our Mother Earth.

Anyway…

Seems like some Earthlings have long been obsessed with a very old question: Is there life on Mars? I pondered this myself for what seemed like hours, just before hitting my head on the pillow last night. As I drifted off to slumberland, very profound thoughts danced through my head bone.

So I’m like… Sheesh!! Those science folks are spending some big bucks researching this no-brainer “controversy” of whether there is life on Mars (or elsewhere). The answer is simple: Of COURSE there’s life on Mars!! Lots of other places, too. Folks in Hollywood have known this for years. My good friend Vexor the Sarganian laughed openly about the stupidity of Earthling scientists, and has often helped movie makers get the real picture. “Lobster Men From Mars,” for example. Lots of different kinds of folks out there on the other planets. We Earthlings are just too arrogant to embrace that idea.

Or maybe we’re just chicken!

Vexor is, of course, from Sargan: the 5th planet of Sector 23vx in the Skoldern Galaxy. A pretty cool dude, and he’s been around, if you know what I mean. He got that 479 Megazip Crambo-Leaper a couple yargons ago. It was used, but he got a good deal. Only paid 47 billion zangles for it, and he’s been tearing up the Interstellar Speedway ever since. He took me for a ride once, but I get starsick; and, well, I’ll just be staying on Earth for a while (I barfed on his crystal-regulated zoomophone).

Anyhower, he’s known about life “out there” for years. When I asked him about Mars, I think it upset him, though at first he just got this blank look on his face. Then he scrunched up his eyes, and blurted out, “Where the heck ya think all those chocolate candies come from?? Says `Mars’ on the back, don’t it?? Jeez, man, don’t you pay attention?” I sat there, dumbfounded, as he continued to illustrate my cosmic ignorance.

“You can even smell them making the chocolate from Earth,” he ranted. “All you have to do is go to Hershey, Pennsylvania and look through a telescope at the beautiful Red Planet. Before you know it, you’ll smell chocolate.”

“What’s so special about Hershey… hey, wait a minute,” I said, grinning. “That’s where the Hershey bar factories are, you Moogle Framer! Ha, you got me there. Ha ha.” Vexor laughed too, and slapped me on the back playfully with his dretzel. Then he put me in my place again by noting that he hadn’t been called a Moogel Framer in over 43 durns. I guess I used an obsolete expression. “Nice try, though, you silly Zoff Pinkler!” he chortled. He thought that was pretty darned funny, but I was getting a bit impatient. Vexor picked up on my frustration pretty quickly, and being the sensitive Sarganian that he is, he returned to Mars as the focus of the conversation.

“Yep, you may remember back in the day when everyone was reading in the National Globe Star Enquirer that Elvis is alive. He’s making records on Mars, and doing quite well, thank you. His favorite candy is his own creation, the Hunka-Hunka bar. Some kind of cross between chocolate and a peanut butter sandwich.”

“What, no Snickers??” I asked this of him with a pretty strong tone. I was a bit shocked that Vexor hadn’t mentioned what I considered to be one of the best chocolate bars in the universe. “Of course,” I continued, “they are becoming the amazing shrinking candy bar. Something happened with the size lately, and they’re not quite as big as they used to be. Still cost just as much, though. Perhaps they should be renamed `Sneakers’.”

Vexor started tapping his pedplarbs and fidgeting with a small piece of croob. When I quit rambling, he started anew. “You wanna gab about junk food or you wanna hear about Mars??” He was almost shouting at me, so I shut up. “OK. Now, where was I?” he continued. “Oh yeah. Elvis. I remember the time he bought one of those fancy belts from Leroy. Helped him bring a lot more folks into his concerts at the Martian Mosh Pit there in New Kramia.”

I was puzzled. “Leroy??” I queried. “Who’s this Leroy?”

“Duh,” Vexor chided. “Don’t you Earthrats know anything? Leroy Aster! You know, the inventor of the Asteroid Belt! All those shiny things on his custom made belts really bring in the crowds. Gotta have good technicians to train the lights on them just the right way, of course. Those Gleebnoogles from Jupiter really go nuts for that stuff. They spend thousands of smoglards just to get a peek!”

He had a great time reminiscing. He paused and tilted his head back, rolled his eyes and shook with laughter as he recalled some of the fun he and his girlfriend Vosk had at some of those Elvis concerts last month. Wasn’t long before I was being treated to his best bag of dehydrated skunyon and a tall glass of brak-ma-gar.

Then the alarm clock went off…

But wait!! Perhaps it wasn’t a dream!! I forgot about Marvin!!!