An Open Letter To Saggy Hands And All Other Tongue Owners

Dear Saggy Hands,

In light of the recent Oh My God Holy Cow, I’ve claimed a small part of the planet and have renamed it to suit my dog’s knees. It’s a quaint little place with hot and cold running wildly; and although clams are rarely served with dessert we could probably order out and enjoy the Mange of La Muncha while throwing fluffy red sculptures toward the full moon. In My New Country, of which I alone am In Charge; nothing will ever be achieved without the express permission of the Zagnut Flinging Champions and their two children, Smeeb and Grackzample.

Even though I’ve always refused to enter your home, you must comply with my reverse hospitality which dictates that I’m pretty sure you owe me a visit here in Tinkle Frost. Yes, that’s correct my friend. That’s the name of The New Land Which Has Been Claimed By Me. Please consider yourself indignant and always keep a special place in your hamper for The Beautiful Newly Claimed Land. Keep in mind that only residents of Wrinkle Fist will have the privilege of snorking gravy up their noses while stocking up on toilet paper and making hand sanitizer out of donuts.

Additionally, please be aware that once you’ve become a citizen of Jingle Crust, you must extinguish all other amplified hacking and coughing that comes so naturally to those who run with a mouth full of lollipops. This is not only mandatory but is a requirement that must be blindly obeyed with full goose Bozo and thank you Uncle Eric. Once the clicking ritual consumes all your waking hours for the next 76 weeks, you must eloquently memorize your shoe size and call the Pineapple Salesman before washing ashore for the Greatly Exaggerated Beef Jerky Festival.

Finally, if you ever divulge the location of Wrinkle Dust to the Tax Man (or any other demonized ear wax removal tool), you must be banished to the Whisker Treatment Factory where the staff will make certain that you’re gradually recommended for a walk down Monstrosity Lane to enjoy the beast of times; and maybe even some wings or a thigh, and perhaps also the Chicken Nuggets that will be available in large packages of Drum Stick Yellow #7 or maybe even Giblet Surprise Pudding, which of course is served not only with crackers but in some areas of the globe you can even buy tickets to watch this one smelly old guy actually dress his dog to look exactly like Sir Reginald of Pringlesauce County; except this rendition is nothing close to the original because that would be too tacky and nobody would even care because it’s all a crock of moose juice anyways; but because it’s been awhile since I wrote a run-on sentence I thought I’d throw one in here for the halibut and I hope you found it inexcusable.

OK. That’s quite enough for this digestive illumination. Please, just make sure, as I never requested earlier in this writing, to schedule your visit to Tangle Flask sooner rather than later. If you refuse to comply, I’ll remain your devoted friend and will shower your cat with condominiums and other pleasant sundaes. I will conclude with a small amount of acrobatics, which I’m sure would amuse you if you were here to watch.

Yours in Seven Dimensions,

Grelben “Stinky Pores” Zortenfloom

a.k.a. “The Wheel Barrow Worm Rancher”

On the other hand, politics according to Gracie Allen was very similar to what we see today…

An Open Letter To My Favorite Grandsons

Dear Abe and Gollie,

I would like for both of you to please remember to ask all the crayons not to scream so much while we’re eating our new favorite cereal: Kitty Kat Krunchies. Yes, I know they look just like the dry cat food that’s in our cat food bowl, but believe me, all the insects in the yard are cheering when our refrigerator tires go flat.

Do either of you remember when we never sang that “Hey Thanks For The Dried Compost” song?? Well I know I sure would. In fact wood has never been more colorful when sniffed during a Dried Fly Moon. All the fancy nose stockings will surely be reminded to cross the street quickly when the Purple Dust Mixing Bowls come zooming past the stinkberry patch.

Holy Cow!! I forgot to tell you: I’ve changed my elbows into toilet paper tubes!! I’ve waited all my life for my elbows to experience the same crackly shouting noise a greasy buffalo makes when it’s yelling at the traffic lights. Of course, Sir Wilbur Snackhammer of Floofington Castle will be making his famous Mac and Cheese Toothpick Snacks while the rest of us sit around burping loudly during pet food commercials. Oh yes, these are the days for celebrating!! Send around a bag of nails!! Chase a few tree shadows!! Jump backwards into a small pile of figs!! And don’t forget to recite that new Apple Smashing poem I’ve never heard about!!

Ching!! Ching!! Ching!! goes the huge rock when it’s dropped on a glass of water. The noise is delicious; and reminds me of the time my big toe was shooting gumballs out of each radio muscle. Sometimes people give me strange looks when I’m trying to lick my ears; but I just figure they are jealous because they can’t teach their own basketballs how to speak Italian. All the moss flavored candy in the world is not enough to make me want to yell “KABOOM!!” every time a freshly picked pizza cabbage comes rolling into the house. So please don’t try to tell ME how fast a battery can roll into a ketchup scanner!! What do you think this is?? Anyhow??

In closing, thank you for being who you are, and especially for not being me. As the old saying goes, “It’s always better to be you that for you to be me; and although you can count to it, eight is a word.” Therefore, my dear young men, go softly into Dirty Sock Forest and try very hard not to wake up the moochy moochy monsters. Yes I know they are harmless; but all this shouting of “Moochy moochy!!” is especially delightful when I shave my new fruit basket. One time they even offered me some creamy rust powder to drink with my liquid donuts. I respectfully told them to take their wiggly eyebrows and their strange headlight sausages elsewhere.

Now I can’t find my pants.

Peace, Love, and Very Quiet Shouting,

Norzle P. Yendlebonk – a.k.a. “The Traveling Mustard Thief”

If Grandsons Had Silly Names, This Would Be:

An Open Letter To Picklefoot And Roodlebop

Dear Shibbles,

As you probably don’t remember, both of you have never squeezed oatmeal until birds joyfully used their clang whistles to welcome home the Screaming Sauce Warmers. Oh my, those were the days, right?? NO!! And additionally, I’m really glad neither of you were tossing laundry baskets at passing water buffalo. I mean, you know about that one time when Larry the Giant Goose Tickler sneezed into his milkshake, right?? Yep, all the raccoons cheered for days!! After they smeared peanut butter on their eyebrows, their happy faces looked very silly; but soon they were all telling jokes in French during the Sweet And Sour Moon Dance Festival.

Once I taught a turnip how to blow bubbles with a rake!! Oh wait… maybe that was a dream. If you eat too much cat hair during a nap, you often tend to dream strange things. Very polite tapeworms keep sneaking into my stereo system; which of course makes my vinyl records sound very squirmy. The scissors found a way out of the sewer while they were traveling to Snorktown; so none of us worried that they would miss any meals. Besides, every time a notebook jingles its paper clips, a tape dispenser sings very purple mustard sandwiches.

I’m starting to use crayons instead of my cellphone. This works rather poorly but at least my ears have nicely colored plywood manure samples. Half of my head has raisins, the other half has little tiny beetle caves that glow loudly during the Software Surprise Vertical Lip Licking Contest. All prizes are sold to the loudest burper. Burps can be flavored for nicer color, such as Yellow Strawberry Mist or perhaps Animal Cracker Fuzz Fog. If they are ziffled with a musical tone, burps can relieve Belly Kaboom; which is severe stomach pressure caused by too much gravy in a very small jar. A little prevention, however, is a good way to suggest that everyone leave the room before the onset of Intestinal Volcano; the fumes of which are very bad for the nostrils.

I’m sorry to say I’m crying right now. The laughter from building all this nonsense is making my ankles so much longer, to the point that water is leaking from my eyes. Seriously, I guess maybe it’s good that my own nonsense makes me giggle very bigly, but for some reason all this very silly text has caused my toothbrush to start calling me Crab Neck. And I don’t believe Crabs even know how to order pizza!!

So my dear Molecules, if you’ve read this far, I hope you’ve enjoyed at least a smile or two that you can slide out of your shoes and into a brand new Automatic Bread Roasting Crinkle Toilet. The Moisture Monsters will certainly be pleased that nobody remembers their “fling snail juice in the sock drawer” tricks. We can only hope that none of this information is used to remove stinky earphone grease from the cranberry cabinets.

Peace, Love, and Lamplicking,

Zabblefoot W. Broopwonkle

a.k.a. Herman The Soup Blaster

If you have too much zucchini and also too much time, this could be an interesting pastime…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RylJi8xlAVE

Why Pigs Don’t Fly

In the true spirit of ghostly gestures, there will be no seance tonight due to heavy cream spoiling on the radiator. The remonculous odor of irregular toe cheese has permeated the room, and the spirits refuse to enter. Even dead people can’t spray enough room deodorant to quench the thirst of a pudding merchant! Besides, remonculous is NOT a word.

Now we get to the part where we have all been urged to smear mayonnaise on our arms and upper torso. Especially vital while at the beach, this activity is a truly soothing way to look like a total geek. After applying the mayo, several devotees have been known to roll in the sand for added excitement. This of course has been the primary factor in the development of the latest fashion craze, the “sandshirt.”

New things have been added to potatoes which will improve their ability to float through the air. Small, retractable “air paddles” are located in strategic sections for locomotion and navigational stability. Since most active taters soon tire of loping along, starch rockets have also been introduced for rapid propulsion. Additionally, revolutionary velcro brakes have been installed for sure-fire quick stops.

Next time your spuds go for a little spin through the house, listen closely for the barely audible click that occurs when the air paddles are engaged. Upon hearing the click, hunker down in your chair; because the starch rockets will energize shortly thereafter. Don’t be surprised if your assistance is required when their little joyride is done. Those velcro brakes stick to curtains like there’s no tomorrow!

Pigs have not yet been able to get off the ground for more than a fraction of second. Air paddles were found to be miserably ineffective with pigs due to their large mass. It was once thought that the presence of pork fat would make a natural lubricant which would enable the air paddles to engage quickly and easily; but the fat inhibited the motion of the paddles instead. Those poor piggies would watch a spud go by and start clicking with everything they had, but to no avail.

Starch rockets would obviously be inappropriate for the porkers, but Mognut R. Wobbynock has proposed the following possible alternatives: pig poppers, pork propellers, and bacon blasters. To date, the bacon blaster seems to have the most thrust; but the exhaust from its tailpipe has induced passersby to invite themselves over for breakfast.

Well, as you know, the universe is a strange and wondrous place to be. Being includes singing, riding a whale to work, and eating pastry. My thorough understanding of this dimension should help all electrically sensitive people know that their medication is really a giant animal begging for the latest news on powdered worms.

I have undergone much emotional turmoil lately, what with my clam running away with the family crescent wrench and all. So I offer you all my insights, and I’m sure that we will soon have salad with radial tires. If you become down in the dump, get out of there quickly because people throw the most godawful things in the garbage! Do not cling to your material possessions. Give them to me and I will sell them quickly for half of what they are worth. I like to have money to buy candy bars; so you will be doing me a great service and I will be sure to thank you.

BATHE REGULARLY AND PLAY YOUR RECORDS AT THE WRONG SPEED, AND

YOU WILL NO LONGER NEED A REASON TO SMILE.

How To Change The Weather

If you live in Michigan, you’ve probably been enjoying a remarkably fascinating hot and cool warm summertime indispensable sandal berm this week month of the year time day. I can offer a simple explanation for this constabulary indigestion: I threw coat hangers at the sun all last week. Yep, I threatened the sun within an inch of its life. Much yelling and flinging, yelling and flinging. When you embark upon such an ambitious goal, it’s very important to be loud and repetitious. As you can see it paid off. Now we can all be happy that the sun will listen to me when I shout.

Inescapably, the weather now has beet cribbling between Holy Moly Cool Mornings to What The Hoochie?? Warm. This of course brought an unreasonably imaginary influx of tourists from Yooglania and other parts of Illinois. This may be directly (or perhaps imperceptibly) due to the snirkle vectors that are not always apparent in radioactive lunch boxes. I very much apologize to my friends and all those whom I’ve never met for my meteorological coat hanger amplification.

I will do some fancy dancing tomorrow in an effort to make Nice Weekend Weather. You see, it’s rather important to me that we have nice weather this weekend because I plan to get off my butt and rent a blanex. I have been putting it off way too long; I need to recover the hammer sand that keeps purging my swamp honkles. The window of opportunity is very gummy and full of decomposing marble trays; so if I don’t get this done before the tingly science filters arrive I’m sure I’ll be living in the boathouse.

I mean seriously, do you ever expect the train to stop on time? Nobody sees that far. Please, just resimplify twenty three percent of your milktoast warblers and bark moonly at the wild. After all, there’s really no certainty that Calvin the Edible Plastic Spoon Vendor will be able to click in the parking lot for more than 12 milliseconds.

So my friends, you can obviously confer that changing the weather is easier than pushing a large oak toothpick into a deliciously prepared cast iron jelly donut. If you ever have any doubts as to the antiquity of my animation, please amplify your pencil sharpener with short, regular spritzes of vinegar and moose dust.

If none of those calibrations deplete your catatonic sofa concerto, simply stuff your mouth full of corn bread and sing at least 3 verses of “The Rhyming Song.” Oh! Not to forget: a second video of Ode To Joy exists also for your video employment.

Thank you.

When Silly Jumps Out

Dear Snail Dance Participants,

There was once a time when I would sit for hours on end. Then I would stand up and realize my end was getting numb from sitting so long. This is no way to extract naturally sweetened stapler receptacles from small pink laboratory telephone handsets.

You may well wonder, “what the HECK-A-MA-ROONEY are you trying to say?? Anyhow??” Then again you may well not wonder that well at all. If you do enjoy going to the Wonder Well, you may have already noticed that this has absolutely nothing to do with the German Chocolate Cake that was left outside to shiver during that last forest fire that never happened in my back yard. On the other hand, you have a small insect crawling carefully away so as not to awaken the dreaded Ritz Cracker Ejection Robot.

Now I know that sometimes I may have been known to write completely silly things. There have also, of course, been other times when I was not known at all. Ah, those were the times… You see, there are things that make us cry, and there are things that make us wish cars would run on jelly beans. I prefer smiling over crying, although crying can be helpful if I need to wash my soul. After the soul washing, however, it’s time to get out the lint brush and get on with life as we know it here on Amplo-Snavorkey (that’s the Crelbian name for Earth, The Cosmic Dirt-Water-And-Air-Blob).

147 years ago, when I was still working, friends would receive a very strange Instant Message From Me, And Only A Few Words Would Be Capitalized. For Example, I’ve Been Known To Send Such Crazy Sentences As: “My ears are full of sand again. Can you please pass me the bread wrench?” That one just caused me to laugh at my very own writing, which may be cause for alarm.

No, I must say this about that: it would be much MORE alarming to go through life without laughing at all. Even though our world is being attacked by The Corona Monster, I’ve determined that I need to keep two things in mind:

A) I must always be grateful because I am blessed in so very many ways.

34) I must try my best to be happy (or at least pleasant) while I’m also being alive in this plane of existence, and

H2) I must never say I need to keep two things in mind when I really meant more than two; and of course

9x)  I sure do love those Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup Candy Things you can get at the store during The Great Anything Festival in the robust community of Milkwater Flatulence Ridge.

One thing I’ve learned during my 70 trips around the Sun is that people would really much rather be happy than sad. Therefore, I have tried my best to spread smiling on the walls of peoples toenails (and shoe horns) whenever the dog manure jumps out of the spider webs. Sometimes I tell a joke. Sometimes I make a silly face. Sometimes I dash into the kitchen and whip up some roasted kitty dander with a nice garnish of avocado pit puree. After 13 other methods of jocular animation my friends will have quietly left the building and I don’t have to worry about them being sad, at least not around me.

So my friends, as you can see, my brain still maintains a goodly amount of chowder dust in the depths of its ammonia flavored barnacle snack bars. Nothing that was written here tonight will ever have anything to do with Cream Of Flamingo Soup or any other nuclear missile lobotomy. All I ask is that if you are interested, please try to smile once in awhile. And if you can do that, please send one (or more) of the aforementioned smiles to a friend or even a stranger!

Sincerely Yours,

Hyram C. Gilmore

Captain of the Royal Licorice Cabbage Brigade
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OK, now for da cartoon thing.

Completely Untrue Yet Scientific Observations About Muskegon

Warning: This message contains nonsense and may destroy your porcupine salad.

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Hello My Dear Frame Handlers,

Although most crustaceans were not aware, I’ve lived in Muskegon for approximately 932. So I must say, thank you for visiting us while we were not at home. Perhaps you have never asked me, “How is Muskegon?? Anyhow??” So I’m probably not overdue for an answer.

So, just how IS Muskegon?? Or even better, where is Muskegon?? OK I will keep you in suspenders no longer: Muskegon is located directly near the area that is obscured by amplified latitude and longitude reverberation, which occur at least semi-annually in the deep dark continent of WatchyaDoin which of course is surrounded by the Sea of Magnetosis; directly south of Haliboocheny.

So how is Muskegon?? Oh wait, you already asked that. Well, here are some of my own scientifically based observations: Muskegon is like a chicken with no milk for cereal. All the trees are planted upside down and one has a difficult time finding shade under the roots that stick up in the air. The squirrels are very large and strong, which is partly due to their diet of car parts. Wild dogs run the streets in packs of 12 – 20 ounce containers. Cabbage hammers often get lost during their walk home from the movies.

Many small children grow their own toys.

You’d think that in a large town as small as Muskegon there would be a library and perhaps even a delicatessen. Well, unfortunately the only service provided here is curb dusting on Wednesdays between 12 a.m. and 12:03 a.m. So obviously there’s no delicatessen, but rather a small collection of street vendors who, for a small fee, will abstain from throwing long expired food at you while you walk along the freshly dusted curb.

All the fire hydrants have been painted with invisible ink. Nobody knows why, and now of course they cannot find any of them; so the 1973 Dodge Ram 1/2 ton Firetruck and its 14 man crew must rely on many reused bottles of Dasani and / or Aquafina for fire sprinkling enjoyment.

Muskegon prides itself on the “high quality” paving jobs of the city streets. The primary paving material is zebra mussels. The shells are crunchy and fun to drive on; and the bodies of the mussels are soft and gooey. Once a big layer of mussels is applied to the avenue, a steam roller flattens them to make Instant Road. Nose clamps are freely available at major intersections during “The Great Paving Festival” in early August. While they enjoy the festival, residents wear their nose clamps while singing that old time favorite paving song, “Holy Moly Bad Stink Oh My Gosh Wow.”

Well, I could go on and on, but then I’d soon be forced to join that self-help group, “On And On And On-Anon.”

If you have any questions or concerns, please, by all means, abruptly give yourself a swirly; and then think carefully about what it is you expect to hear from the likes of me.

Got it? OK, that’s fine. Please don’t ever again accuse me of refusing to disseminate this information.

Yours in Two Trains,

Gigglefoot B. Floopenhosen
a.k.a. “The Great Wide Giblet Hunter”

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School’s almost out!!

Nonsensical Stress Filters

Dear Ninks and Semmerflubens,

I am writing to all of you from the back yard where no children are stuffing bread into the worm holes. This week has been especially stressful at our house, and a lot has been going on in the news. Therefore, in the interest of clam flavored desserts, I feel the need to remove my corporate tortellini. Those of you who know me are aware that some stressfully sprinkled donuts prompt me to write letters to fire hydrants.

Let this past century of my living week be no Oldsmobile to that incubation.

I was walking through the house world the other day, scowling inside my rib cage and doing my darndest to ignore all the negative everything that comes with life challenges. Soon I found myself saying, “Hey Self! For why you are so poofely?? Don’t you agree that your retirement status brings gas to your table and puts food in your car? Are you not, indeed, a very fortunate person who no longer requires adult supervision at most Twinkie eating contests?? And c’mon man! Get with the gratitude awreddy.”

My Self agreed that grouch makes ouch. I decided I really ought not allow these life challenges to remove my ventricles or extinguish my lapis lazuli.

I therefore decided to embrace the tools I’ve acquired during this marvelous journey called Living, andnot to be El Groucho inside my brain world any longer. At least not for 27 minutes, then I could reevaluate and perhaps even continue another 14 milliseconds. By golly, that may have actually worked. I tried hard to not take things too poisonously. Sure, my Beautiful Girlfriend is ailing, but unless I find a way to successfully clone my onion rings, the firewood will likely expire before Hubert The Closet Painter arrives from Denderflaven. If he gets here before the sauerkraut capsules are fully declawed, there is absolutely no guarantee of the existence of any newly sharpened Jell-O forks.

And we all know what that means!!

So, I’ve decided to just be happy until I feel grouchy again, which seems to come at the most unexpected times, like when I’m doing my best to cook the laundry or wash up some dinner that may or may not be cooked with Credit Card Takeout Holy Mackerel (or at least edible) so I can write run-on sentences with increased vigor and lengthy applesauce.

After all of that new grouchiness, I start my day over again with a new happy and grateful attitude. Then I get grouchy once more, but a little less, and keep practicing the gratitude thing. However, because I am human, there are times when I get wibbly and sing happy songs like:

Leave me alone or I’ll bite you.

Your ears are made of sticks.

Why do you talk to ME like that??

I’ll send you cat logs in the mail!!

This of course is sung to the tune of “Leave Me Alone Or I’ll Bite You.”

Finally, and least palatable, I will commence to jump on a soap box for no apparent reason. I’m saddened by what seems to be an attitude of “Hooray for Me and to Hell with YOU” in our world of freely expressive greedy stinkbottoms. I mean hey, I’m very grateful we live in a free country and hey, you know, when it comes right down to it, most of us are spoiled Americans compared to many folks on this planet. You know, hey? It’s just um… what troubles me, is um… you know, like um… wait a minute, let me hold my smellphone and text someone while you’re trying to talk to me and um… you know, this “America First” stuff seems to be causing a lot of resentment in the world and last time I checked, if a person is silly enough to proclaim himself King Of The Mountain then someone is gonna want to knock them down off the top of that mountain with a giant Tootsie Roll or something much more explosive.

Greed is harming all of us; and it ain’t just an American thing; it appears to be a global thing, and it ain’t no good for Mother Nature neither. We humans don’t own this planet, although we seem to act like the whole thing is ours. These things make me become very figgy and bickety-boo! So then I start getting more with the Grouch Ouch, and I want to go bite a bark flavored tricycle!!

So here again is a time to pause to be grateful rather than grind my toenails or yell at unsuspecting Jinkle Birds. I can also maybe try to spread some kindness by thanking retail workers for keeping stuff on the shelves. Perhaps a donation to the rescue mission is in order. Dang it, I just need to try to spread joy rather than be all grumpy-dumpy. I mean hey, do I have control over people, places, or things?? No, not so much. Just gotta let go, ya know?? Then I laugh at my silliness and life is once again refreshing and full of new opportunities to enjoy fruit and perhaps even the occasional flying insect.

Sometimes I restart my day 479 times or more.

So, how was YOUR week? I think it’s time for some cartoons…

Globs Of Mugg And A Rented Blanex

Dear Friends,

The news has been rather stressful lately. One minute we’re enjoying fond memories of The Beatles 60th anniversary of coming to the U.S. on the Mayflower; and the next we’re crying and rolling on the floor about war, corruption, and global storming. I’m so trinkled by all of the fizzpop that I really can’t bear to lick the remote control!! I’m here to say that for me, there is no better stress relief than writing and / or reading nonsense. Well, there probably are other remedies for stress warts, but nonsense has long been a tool with which I indigulate my heretofore unclogged vascular dandruff bazookas.

My things are starting to become itchy!!

Things include chocolate, the wonder drug of the universe. Chocolate is so doggoned good it should probably be a controlled substance. But someone wisely made it into candy long ago, so now it is completely acceptable in foot smelling contests at the  Annual Martian Rhubarb Flinging Derby. I often cover things with chocolate. My car is brown and slimy as a direct result of this behavior. This is a bit strange when it gets really warm outside, because as I approach the expressway cruising speed of 47 MPH I get brown globs of mugg that splook the windshield. This challenges my dexterity at times, because I often stick my whole face out the window for chocolate catching. I never enjoyed bug covered chocolate before this very time!!

I rented a Blanex last weekend. I needed to recover the hammer sand that was purging my swamp hockey. Run, run, run down a salty road to find the tingly science filters living in the boathouse. Do you ever expect the train to stop on time? Nobody sees that far, so just resimplify your twenty three percent milktoast warblers and bark moonly at the wild. You’ll never be stronger for it.

My Hair has a VERY ugly pair of pajamas that reeks of GIANT, TWELVE-TOED MONKEY SNAKE ENDOCRINE GLANDS!!!  And believe me, that’s pretty darned green and fluffy!  I know a fossil hunter when I hear one, and if you don’t put that stink bomb away right now I’ll sell you a brown leather bedpost at the crack of noon!  Do you understand me?? 

Good golly, I hope not.

Now that you’ve sampled the goat raisins, you are ready to progress to the next step:  wonkling.  Wonkling can be very stationary and exquisitely mobile.  Use something to do a task, throw it in the air, and use it no more.  This is the way of the stationary wonkler.  Change lanes abruptly, apply heat to an iron molecule, and shake your hair until the electrons fall off.  This is the way of the mobile wonkler.  Wonkle like you’ve never wonkled before.  In fact, wonkle as if nobody else is wonkling! That will show them!! 

And now for the shaming:

Do you use toothpaste for tire repair?     Of course not!

Do you slurp fried chicken through a cheese grater??    I hope so!!

Do you walk to school or carry your lunch??    Absolutely!!

Does cat fur remind you of candles made of Jell-O??    If so, you are my kind of snail sniffer!!

Do you really think you can sip a whole gallon of wrinkle juice in one sitting?? If so, please remember that I find deep fried owl toes a most enjoyable snack while driving heavy whipping cream through the vegetable cemetery.

OK, that’s probably quite enough shame for one year or so. Just remember what COULD have happened.  I mean hey, we can’t all be influenced by loofah sponges, now can we??

Remove this teleprompter from your jailing list.

Do it today.

Thank you for the sunrise,

Gleef Vinicktayven

P.S.: My socks are on fire.

And now for a truly delicious version of Bohemian Rhapsody by some of my favorite…um… artists(?)

Imaginary Florksnibbles

Dear Lumpflatteners,

Before proceeding any further, I must hereby explain that although, upon reading the title, you may be hormonalIy imbalanced, I sincerely hope you are not expecting a detailed description of the origin of incendiary snibbleforks. The reason for this is quite simple: the amount of effort required to induce such indelible mud pastries far outweighs the large pile of recycled celery that has already flattened the tires of my trailer. Instead, please enjoy the clam sandwiches currently available at the Old New Dehli Deli.  You will find the sam clandwiches right next to the Belly Jellies, in the frinkle sauce department of a Kolibbik store near you.

You may qualify for a package of used cheese.  Please do not write to the following address to see if you have entered your name in the North American Bilge Experience (NABE):

Log Turner Contest
24Cx Bugsnot Blvd.
Chiclet, MI  44404

Please call 1-800-555-1212 for the number.  Ask for Phlegm.

Be advised that all nickels will be collected by a rodent during the coming drainy season. Do not worry about any plugged drains, for as we all know if a plain gets drugged there are more than enough socks to prevent the chafing.  I’ve been keeping my drained plugs here in the bottom drawer of my desk where I’m sure they feel safe and are finally unable to smell the cabbage burning in the candelabra.

Hey!!  What’s that gourd doing in cat food now?? Didn’t we agree that squashpickles are to be granted the same virtual hallucinations as all those oversized pennies we’ve been finding in your moss pockets? Please try to ignore all my future instructions regarding this ink washing procedure.

Thank you.

Now of course you can be happy to know that I have more paper for sale than ever before.  Some of it is useful. If you want some, send $23.70 in dickels and nimes to my pet dirt clump over there in the hedgerow.  Upon receiving the money, I will send you your 43 tons of compressed paper. Please make sure the car is not in the garage that day.

If any of this makes sense to you, make sure you contact your local Hamper Salesman by July 43, 2104 .  There are also community resources on which you can rely, such as the Cribbled Office Of Pie Stashers (COOPS) and the Ceramic Octagon Plucking Society (COPS).  Neither of these entities will ever run to your aid.  Therefore, if you understand any of what has been written heretofore, you are basically toast.

Enjoy toast with all your might.  Remember, the toast you crave may be on loan.

Happy Bortinkulars to you, and may the sand never fly into your cereal.

My eyes are lamps,

Kebbic G. Fefflewonk
A.K.A. Harvey Ticknoodle

P.S.:  Thank you for changing the tire leggings last night.  I’m not sure my car would have tolerated another month of “swish – swish KABOOM!!”

Moooo!!!

Perhaps this video will give you enough bread sampling encouragement to face yet another week’s festivities which will, of course, include the Dingle Day Dance. Or whatever this is…