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…

My Meatball Muffins Moved My Mustard

As the title of this story may or may not indicate, this has been a big and gigantor time of visiting with family and friends during the last few days; so my duty of making up a very silly story is being fulfilled with large buckets of animal crackers, lightly seasoned with crayon shavings and Captain Kaboom Rust Flavored Saxophone Sauce, rolled into a run-on sentence that of course invites all the truly masculine garbage cans to disguise themselves as tiny triangular toaster tables that shimmer in the darkness of our new Radio Ranch Wiggle Worms.

Yes.

Perhaps none of you have often been asked, “What do you think the most delicious color of the alphabet sounds like??” I never have been asked that either, so of course my very first answer I never supplied was, “Snurch Lip Surprise!!” After saying that out loud for the 347th time, nobody will ever again ask me what time the Peanut M&Ms will be flying in from Antarctica. After all, while Penguin Pete and Silvia Seal drive their go carts to the laundromat, we all will be learning new recipes for Shrimp On The Half Shell and maybe even Chopped Cat Food Surprise.

Mmmm Chopped Half Shrimp Shell Cat Surprise!! Remember the good old days when we stored that in the basement for 23 weeks? Oh my, the smell was bigger than a bag of toast that’s been sleeping in the sewer with all the other fizzy, candy coated ice cream handle bar polishing brushes. I never realized just how much shampoo would be wasted on such a gigantic pile of paper when it explodes out of the sock drawer!! My socks cried for days after powdered sawdust was added to the salad dressing. I was finally able to receive their radio lunches in a less than dignified way… all I had to do was tilt my head back and watch the moths sharpen their antlers on the ceiling fan.

These days, life is much more gribbly, and what I mean by that is we all have to put pudding in a friend’s shoes before they leave on a long trip. This will allow them to squint while they walk, and each step will be a squishy adventure. Who would have ever discovered that lawn ornaments could learn to play hockey with soup ladles? It just proves that we can always use a nice refreshing cup of shoelace extract to help us make friends with all those crazy grasshoppers that hang around at Walmart. Why else would those happy railroad clowns hide their flashlights? Everybody knows that green toilet paper makes the very best substitute for parsley flakes when nobody’s looking. Yes, those removable elbow shields you sold me came in very handy during my last trial run in the “Slide Until You Stink Competition.”

All this reminds me of a song I just made up, which of course is sung to the tune of “His Name Is Maroo.”

Here comes the Dust Monkey.  His name is Maroo. 

He’s got plenty of dustings for me and for you.

 I offered him candy to eat on his break. 

He told me, “No thank you, I prefer cake.” 

“I don’t want your dust now!!” I started to whine.

He yelled “Just go and put it where the sun don’t shine.”

I don’t think Maroo and I will ever be friends.

In closing, I’d very much like to make an important announcement:

This coming Sagnerday I will illegally change my name to Frapzak Mizzlepop, which of course was never a Native American name meaning “Slumbers With Chowder.”  Used donuts and apple chowder vinegar will be served in celebration.

Please always remember to be kind to socket wrenches and other living shopping carts.

In closing, I’d like to thank all of you for who you are. And I know I’ve said it before, but please remember that it’s always better to be you than for you to be me; and although you can count to it, eight is a word.

How’zabout some funny videos? Yes, I find them delicious on a lukewarm pond of egg sauce.

A Secret Letter For Radio Snack Food Engineers Only

Dear Toaster Tossers,

As you may not be aware, there will no longer be any need for teeth tightening in the upcoming gall bladder confusions. This of course means that if just one member of our Secret Society launches more than 67 Raisin Rockets this week, all of us will be in big trouble with Mr. and Mrs. Punchworm. I therefore urge none of you to grab your cat’s elbows while making popcorn.

Of course, there probably should have been stronger crayon warnings during last night’s graham cracker storm. It’s been well known for years that improperly colored crackers will never enjoy an afternoon in Lake Michigan. Better hurry up and get a nice jar of “Happy Frog Nose Surprise” jelly for that often interrupted afternoon snack. Truly delicious with plastic bread and stainless steel soda.

Now I must ask all of you: how do you find the time to hide all those cranberry marshmallows under the couch? Wouldn’t it be safer to fill your toilet with gasoline? Is it not possible that audio cables could decide not to order Mexican food? Are jellyfish reading too many books? Can you think of anything else I want to ask??

No, of course not.

Forgive me, please. I’ve been sleeping with too many tomatoes in my armpits lately; and it’s beginning to fascinate my pet soap dish. You all probably know what it’s like to stuff carrots into a flute; so the cooking process just might cause the antlers to fall right off the minivan. Some of us will probably consider sleeping in the salad bar; but those of us who know better will joyfully roll around in the dessert bar instead.

Finally, I’d like to close with what’s known in knowing places by what’s known as an unknown run-on sentence; and in this particular sentence the word “known” is being known all too often, because you should try really hard to soften the hard boiled eggs with Professor Slapperhank’s portable egg softening lotion that is only sold in stores where the language of choice is Pazookey and all the employees can’t seem to get their freckles to line up to form various words that likely wouldn’t mean much anyway with the possible exception of Trabnack and Blooplinka Ifflebottom.

Very well then. I hereby call this meeting to order with a nice side of oven roasted Hairball Chowder and all the accompanying Crunchy Little Rocks.

Farewell till next time; and please remember to ventilate your ice cream before your lungs fill up with chopped walnuts and fancy sprinkles.

Yours with new nostrils,

Ron Again Pobblestick, Information Specialist
21½ Winky Avenue
Clam Sneeze, Frongolia 2209098

On the other hand, you have some pure Rock Nonsense…

A Friendly Letter To A Friend Who’s Not Really A Friend

Hello Nice Friendly Peoples!

My brain fell out 3 times this past week, and each and every 139th time all the computerized floral arrangements could be seen waving their tusks at me with indecent cheese filled pasta pies.  Can you relate?  Do you find yourself blaming “The Amazing El-Farto” (or someone not even remotely similar) for all the troubles in your universe??

Well, if you do, you’ll probably never need or even want to send that person a letter expressing just how smelly the air molecules become when they are near you. But just in case, I’ve taken the liberty to compose an all purpose letter you can either send or deliver to someone who has gently taken your self esteem and crammed it into a hollow tree full of spiders and other (perhaps fire-breathing) ickety-boo monster animals. Please feel free not to use this ever at any time at all; but instead maybe read it sometime when the friend you thought was a friend simply turned out to be a very mean person who really doesn’t know how to be a friend so you really may want to just pray for them and ask the Creator Committee to help them be happy and healthy all the day long; even though you don’t like them, and of course please remember that all creatures great and small need and deserve love but that of course does not necessarily mean you will be inspired to make a new ice cream flavor in their name but maybe you could at least try to forgive them for being so nasty and even though I intend to continue with this run-on sentence I was wondering if I might please have that big piece of chocolate over there now?

Thank you! OK, here we go with the letter thing you probably should never send; but it might make you laugh away your crackling insoles:

—————————————

Dear Fossilbrain,

I’d like to apologize for allowing you to eat all those barnacles I accidentally put in the pasta salad. It’s just that I was very much enjoying the crunching noise and your interesting amazement at the happy culinary bewilderment. I would also like to apologize in advance for the discomfort you are sure to experience when these barnacles and their shells travel through your digestive tract; and the eye widening sensation they are certain to inflame just before they embark upon the journey to your septic tank.

You may soon discover that Tootsie Rolls do not write well on a chalkboard. If that should occur, please again accept my apology; this time for replacing all your writing implements with pretzels, licorice, and very skinny carrots. We all know that pointy things can make patterns in the sand, which is soon to be found in your pee nut butter and celery sandwiches. Drink 3 centiliters of popcorn oil while gargling with paprika and you’ll be treated to a very remarkable temperature tantrum.

I know you may not want to hear this, but right now I’m pretending to yell with a giant squid flavored amplifier that will cause even the most obstinate pair of moisture control pliers to wither and fly westward due to their foolish insistence upon trolling for sod without an adequate flashlight renewal calculator. Your pets and stain resistant dinnerware will one day thank me for all this.

In closing, I’d like to assure you that in spite of everything and in spit of everything else; I will do my very best to enhance the length of my string supply. After all, one can never have too much string. Thank you for your itchy sidewalls. Whenever I compare them to my inexplicable “potato dances,” life is clearly baffling; much in the same way a fluffy yet malodorous box of dandruff sneaks its way into a delicious rhubarb-liverwurst casserole.

Yours in Tender Shouting,

Breem Pifflewonk, Esq.

“Don’t try to sing while sneezing.  Your nostrils may create an unwelcome booger kaboom.” – Eugene T. Snackpincher

———————————————–

OK!! Now on to da cartoon!!  And it’s a WEIRD one…

An Unimportant Announcement

Please note: you are reading this message because you are on a secret list that only the Cheese Vendors can access with toaster friendly amplification.  That being said, I want to warn you all that I feel a little nonsensical today due to the paperclips that Mr. Ventricle keeps inserting into our favorite spoon sharpener.  It is therefore with gravy and peanut clustered insulation that I send you this very Unimportant Announcement.

My Dearest Habbniferns,

I’m sure none of you are wondering by now whether the sky has been removed from the Ionized Bugle Machines (IBM). There’s probably a good chance that someday I can divulge the particulars of that molecular substation, but this is no time for soaking baby toys in cups of sesame oil.  Besides, all that powder I keep in my toenail drawer simply must find its way back to Gattlestar Ballactica.

Am I right or am I wrong??

On a more insectivorous note, I ate a bug once during the Warmer Weather Times (WWT). It had very little flavor, and devouring its body really was not as pleasant as one might surmise. This required minimal effort, however: I opened my mouth, a small insect flew in, and I closed my mouth again. I tried to pitoo, then kerchack, but when I said “orgkkk” my swallowing mechanism switched on and down the hatch it went as I Bit My Tongue (IBMT). Possibly there was some struggle on the part of the poor bug, as I was somewhat sure I felt griggling actions as the very small Insect Bit The Dust On The Way Down My Esophagus (IBTDOTWDME).

Now of course we must discuss this business of intermediate tree watering schedules. Please do not venture into that territory with me ever again. Why would you insist on watering the trees with that Jell-O dispenser I shall never understand. Don’t you know that pressurized prune skins can injure cats and other flying rodents? Additionally, we really need to talk about your compulsion to slide wildly through the Baked Apple Rhubarb Fritters (BARF).

OK. I really must go to the store now. They have metal objects on sale, and one can never have too many metal objects. I’m keeping mine in the washing machine; they help spoons and radio antennas stay fresh and crinkly.

Thank you for not licking my car. Last time my car was flattened, all the tire juice ran sideways through the maple syrup. So again, thank you VERY MUCH for not flattening my cat’s toy water fountain. Unless you did. In which case I will stop. Writing in incomplete sentences. Which cannot be sentences at all.  Since they are incomplete. So therefore they must. Be sentence fragments.

So there.

Yours with no hair,

Abnick G. Wiffleponk

a.k.a. “Sgt. Lumpy, Underwater Greenskeeper (SLUG)”

Now the cartoon is about to happen, and this one should cause none of you to long for Jellyfish Bay.

From the CEO: An Important Letter To Zandooky And All Other Fizzibops

Dear Lardsnorts,

It has been reported to me that some of you have been been accused of pickling corduroy. Well I’m here to tell you, that if you don’t begin doing something else soon, you won’t be able to do anything very soon. Soon you will know that something else was done long before The Egg Sniffing hour.  By that time, will you even be aware that those things you ate last night contained absolutely nothing nutritionally resembling turtle snouts??

I should hope not!!

You better know something!! I’ll let you know when to know it. Do you know what I mean? You had BETTER know!! Don’t look at ME in that tone of voice!! You often remind me of when all those lentils were floating from the out  house behind the garage. What the HECK have you been slurping during nap time??

Anyhow??

The weather was completely perfectly indecent during these past 42 yodelwhompers. That’s because I forgot to throw coat hangers at the sun all last week. I threatened the sun within an inch of its life, and as you can see it paid off backwards. Now we can all cry and roll on the floor because we are very aware that the sun won’t listen to me when I shout. This of course increases the likelihood of macaroni storms.

Cheese is applied during the evening hours.

On a personal note:  My beautiful girlfriend, Zonikula, and I went walking the other day with our legs and feet. During our walk, we decided to crawl on our bellies for 13 miles to see if rain deer really know how to fly. Rain deer are absolutely nothing like Santa’s reindeer. No. Rain deer are made of water and they sing greeble songs when the geese run backwards through the tomato forest. This gives them magical flavor crystals that can only glow in their earlobes during The Great Nickel Tossing Festival.

Last time we were never there, the noises of our crawlings were completely different than the normal klick, klick, clomp as we sniggled down along the Mosquito Ribber near the old Cobb plant (where Cornn is Kingg). Suckers were busy catching humans that were running up the river. Very remarkable. Garter snakes tried to trim our fingernails as we invaded “their space;” and as they wriggled gently over our eyebrows all 13 of them kept whining about how they were missing their favorite Applesauce Program. Why They Capitalized These Strange TV Program Words With Their Nostrils Remains A Mystery To All Of Us Who Enjoy A Complete Breakfast Of Oats Coated With Bullet Proof Mustard.

Please, don’t ever describe this to me again.

There was probably a time when we could have stood up and used our foot things to walk like regular snork monsters, but that never occurred to us until we got back in our car and noticed that our belly mud had hardened into very attractive pajama sandwiches that looked and tasted very much like those old fashioned salami burgers we never had when we was kids.

Ah yes, those were the good old moldy days.  When we was kids, we were required to drool into 3 gallon containers until the Body Odor Horns blasted all of our Stink Juice into the rafters.  Drool collections were repeated incessantly until each container was full of enough crayon dust to power a small rhinoceros wagon.   This of course required us kids to stand on our stomp ladders with rafter rakes in hand, to collect as much Stink Juice as we could to moisten the clanger modules.

My fellow Corporate Citizens, please to not regard the aforementioned statements as instructions for personal fungus removal.  Simply incorporate all what was stated here into your dreams until the rinse cycle is complete.

OK.

Now you have been klempered.

Please resume your taddle-brickling.

My chair eats frogs,

Hyram C. Pooflestench

A.K.A. Peeper Fling Muskellunge

Here now are some video analyses of the effects of sauerkraut saturation on blind ants.

An Open Letter to Mr. or Ms. TextNeck

Dear ScreenStarers,

I was watching a story on the radio today while listening to the interwebs about internet addiction behavior that is characterized by people tilting their heads to gawk at their smartphones when they really should be interacting with their friends or family; especially during dinner or perhaps in the middle of a friendly outing that implies personal contact but instead of talking and giving loved ones eyeball contact, these smartphone addicts are constantly checking BookFace or Twizzler or perhaps Funny Macaroni and Cheese videos while being stuck in a run-on sentence that really needs to end now.

A real physical ailment has arisen from smartphone addiction: text neck (<–there’s a link for you if you’re curious). It’s just another one of those whoopee, hibbledyboo happy times from too much technology in your soup toaster. If any of you have read my silly bagga-maroo on this crazy blog thing for more than two seebits, you are probably aware that although I have (thankfully) retired from the IT universe; I pride myself in being something of a technical dinosaur… at least at home. That’s right kids, I still have a record player, VCR, CD / DVD player, I listen to AM radio (on a real radio…).  We do have the internet, and it’s only $30 a month with free air to breath and free dirt outside we can walk upon. And yes, boys and girls, we still get most of our television worm sauce from a weird fixture perched upon our roof, and it’s called an antenna. In our professional opinions, cable has always simply cost too much; which of course prevents me from having enough extra cash for important staples like strawberry flavored pork rinds and Cabbage Cola.

So for this Happy Friday!!!, I decided to give some of my best bread particles a chance to sing louder than most jelly beans are able. In other words, if you invite me for ketchup and lavender; I will keep my phone’s ringer off and leave it in my pocket. Not just the ringer, but the whole stinking phone! Yes, and instead of staring at a screen while we are together, I will stare at those moles you keep hiding in your eyebrows. But don’t worry, I will smile politely while I seize opportunities to wince at your ickymoles when you turn your head to sneeze on the person next to you.

My truly indispensable moose hammer won’t not never need to be cleaned while we are talking neither, no. After all, once you’ve used your own mouse hammer to open a can of Jack Fluffington’s Floor Syrup; you’ll spend much more time cleaning your walls than clearing your mice nostrils. Upon opening the can, everyone within range will cringe and snort loudly as the syrup droplets coat their eyelids with a nice shiny imitation glucose surprise.

I’m sure we can all find something better to do than check how many “likes” we have on the BookFace or the InstaTwit. Ha, ha ha… I’m having a fond memory of the time we all threw raisins on the floor at the mall, and Snippy and his girlfriend Euglena started walking on tiptoes and shouting, “arrggghhhh!!! Rabbits have been here!!!” Yes, that was just before we filled all those water balloons with tomato juice and… oh my never mind about that time. When I do think about it, all I can shout is “GACK!!”  Perhaps you could help me finish my 17 year old project: the Lego garage!! It’s getting expensive, but once we finish it we’ll never need to paint the walls. Who knew it took so many Legos to make a building??

OK. In closing, I’m hoping some of you could maybe stop with the techno-obsession and put the phartsmones away and just tawk ta people awreddy. Ya know what I’m sayin’? There are people very near you who deserve your undivided attention.  Oh and here’s a weird eye-deer for ALL OF US… if we are watching something other than a small screen, we might see stuff like birds and a very nice sunset or something!! Would that be cool or what?

I go now.

Peace, Love, and Straighter Necks,

Hyram C. Gilmore

a.k.a. MooseHammer McFluffington

Oh… speaking of obsession…we LOVE OK GO.  Following their song, “Obsession” are a couple technology songs.  The last video is just plain fun.

Milwort Dendersniffle

Hello Dearest Staplegun Sniffers,

You may be wondering why I would write a story on the interwebs with a title like “Milktoast Dandruffbaskets.” Well, let me assure you that it is NOT Spam. Spam is a mookey, galumpish but nutritious… well edible… I think… meat thing that comes in a can and is revered by Monty Python.  If you’ve never heard of Ponty Mython, please wiggle wildly with weird wobbly whatchamadingers so I can learn how to write in cursive once again without using Filbert, my pet Crayon, to enlarge the tiger glasses that magnify all but the largest of shampoo bottles.

I would have written sooner, but probably not, because I am righting write now and it’s Friday night and my wife’s eyebrows are brand new but we ate all the chips that came with the delicious sammiches we bought from the Walker Roadhouse and they were pretty good;  but sometimes I am trying to remember other things which are ancient history in my brain because I mean hey, I’ve written many more than 17 stories over the years and I have difficulty remembering what I had for Taco Salad With Onions And Ketchup Hold The Mayo On A Whole Wheat Cabbage Bowl That Never Existed So Why Oh Why Must I Continue With This Poorly Punctuated, Unnecessarily Capitalized Last Section Of The Run-On Sentence Thing?? Anyway????

Why??

Oh… I can stop that now? OK, thank you.

Yes friends, I’ve been rapidly slowing down during the whole week of this past week of my retired week time; and now it’s time for the week to end (hence the name, “weekend”) (am I smart or what?) (I don’t think I’m any smarter than YOU are.) (oh so now we have the superfluous parentheses??) so I can take some time and like, you know, stop worrying about time for at least the present time; but to be honest I’ve rarely worried about time during my retired time. Speaking of the present time, have you ever given someone time for a present? All you have to do is spend some with them. You’ll never get the time back but that’s the whole point you see. You are being. With them. Both (or all) of you being at the same time; with each other, existing together in unison while enjoying companionship and perhaps also partying with some nice fluffy marshmallow muffins made with new and improved moisture molecules.

This, I think, is the true meaning of fluffy friendship.

Well as some and /or none of you are aware, my hair is vanishing pretty much every day I think. Some of it’s turning grey and some of it is turning loose. I still plan to grow it longly and donate it until my hair no longer grows out of the little tiny hair volcano that sticks out of the back of my ears. Every 27 milliseconds, the hair lava flows out of my elbows and migrates to the hair brush with soft music playing very loudly at a very high speed. Once the television is planted in the potato bed, be sure to mulch your fingernails with only the highest quality Play Doh. This will ensure that your belt stays fastened securely to the garden tractor for a much more enjoyable paddle boat explosion.

Very well. Did I mention that my gratitude is really big this week?  It’s true you know.  My Lovely Bride and I have been blessed beyond measure so even though I complain sometimes, I really have nothing to complain about.  Therefore I will do everything I can to enjoy each day as it comes, knowing that I can learn from yesterday but I cannot change it; and I hope there is a tomorrow but I just don’t know.  Therefore I am doing my very best to enjoy each day as it is given to me; and I will pretend that when Ogbert Noztillocken throws her delicious Clicking Pot Pies at my hubcaps, I will simply resign to the likelihood of the appearance of newly discarded soda cans and simply guess that it’s how ladies wear their chainsaws these days.

Please remember to eat lots of string for more fiber.

Happy Friday,

Hyram C. Gilmore
a.k.a. “Monkey Head Jones”

How’s about some videos from the time of before today’s time??

Ach Du Lieber!! Das Internet Ist Kaputt!!

Hello Snaybles and Bugtoss Muffins!!

Did you ever survive a day when the internet was broken?!?!? Oh My God!! How can this happen to gentle people like us?? I think there were corgle farbs stuck in the bizzmahooken… after I used 12 toads to reset the ply chowder, NetFlax and TooYube were chibbling along as if nobody ate used food in several decades.

Norgleson Anglefoot told me once that if you throw ethernet cables at a dead possum, not only will the road still stink but the flies will try to invent a new and exciting music streaming service that will prevent even the happiest Carrot Cakes from inducing Elementary Energized Electrolux Egg Flingers to use their newly formed Zinc Toasters for indivisible porpoises; not to mention that one time when all the zucchini fell off the roof (again) and the cat narrowly escaped with his brand new derby hat he never wears to concerts anymore.

I told you not to mention that!!

So this has been the distorted constipation at our house lately. Yes, that’s right friends, Das Internet War Kaputt. For those of you who don’t speak Clambolian, that means: “Jingle Fries!! The Internet Don’t Working!! We Must Use Very Badly The Grammar And Also Capitalize Unnecessarily To Illustrate Our Frustration With This Intolerable Ant Pile Of Dust Mites Who Don’t Even Know I’m Writing About Them And They Probably Don’t Even Care That I Make REALLY Silly Run-On Sentences Because Dust Mites Are So Doggoned Tiny That Even Though I’ve Never Seen One, I’m Probably Seeing Them All The Time!

Or so I’m told.

There are only 192 things to do with the internet goes El Barfo.  First of all, try to Google the problem.  Oh wait!!  The internet is KAPUTT!!  Fooey.  OK try this… recable the modem booter.  That oughta do it.  Wait for all the grinky lights to turn bleen.  OK when the coble madem is up and running… quick tie a string to it so it can’t run too far!!  Then rewire the routeless booter.  Yes!!  OK… 1, then 2, then 7 flashing blinky lights!!  Now paint your tires neon green and bark loudly at the trusses in your attic!!  Are we having now the interwebs??  I DON’T KNOW!!  THERE ARE OVER 100 MORE IDEAS TO TRY!!. 

Call customer service??  What the…

OK. So the moral of the story, of course, is multiple in nature. In other words, there are multiple morals to this story; which will result in Moral Multiplicity and also very possibly, Repetitious Repeating Of The Fact That There Is More Than One Moral Of The Story, Which Again Is Celebrated With Totally Unnecessary Capitalization.

OK. Here are the Multiple Morals:

A – You can lead a possum to the middle of the road, but it may steal your network cables.

12 – I absolutely refuse to tolerate Dust Mite Ant Piles.

Blue – Jingle Fries will be served cold during Unnecessarily Capitalized Thunderstorms; and of course

@! – You can type nonsense when you don’t know what else to write, and if it makes you laugh while you write it, maybe someone else will laugh also.

The End

“Bark, bark!” said the tree while his dog was sniffing his neighborfeet. Ha ha, it was not the end!  But it is now.

I hope.

“And now,” as Mr. Cleese used to say, “for something completely different.”

An Open Letter To All Humans

Dear Tinker Toy Handlers,

This is to inform you that our house is exploding and the bottle rockets have prevented me from listening to the stereo for 13 weeks. I know that you are the ones who forced me into this situation, and I demand immediate constipation. If you do not comply with this request, I shall be coagulated instantly while I sail off to Bermuda with a large tube of toothpaste. No one has the right to tell ME what to wear to the Chicken Festival! So please, before our relationship has been too greatly damaged, change that stinky underwear you have on! You should know by now that the brown and yellow crusties are a clue that wash day is past!

And another thing: every time I sit down, my butt makes contact with another thing! I wonder: how many times has my butt touched another thing without my asking the thing if it wanted to be touched? I’ve also learned that my butt and my brain appear to be  connected. I know this to be true because a) I’ve made some really embarrassing mistakes during my stay on this planet we call Rhubarb, and 19) every time I forget something, I sit down and instantaneous remembering occurs within 7 or 8 millirockens.

Now don’t correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m sure you cannot be allowed to stay in the country after those things you did with that flyswatter in the restaurant. I mean, people who try to eat soup with a used flyswatter are probably not going to be invited to my burping contest anytime soon. Unruly behavior will be rewarded with gentle slappings about the eyes and shoulders with the standard issue licorice flavored water balloons.

Please remember that the child within you needs to be nurtured,

and only YOU (and your Maker) can do it.

If you ever feel sad or lonely, you can take action on this by paying me some big bucks. I will gladly use the money for disturbance mechanisms which will not allow you to get proper rest. A few weeks of this and you will forget all about that whiny inner child; and you will sport a pleasant, robotic appearance. Another tried and true method of healing the inner self is to shame the heels that find you. In other words, whenever some schmuck tries to mess you up, grin politely and suggest that they eat bark and poop at the moon. They will usually be glad you were honest, and will mumble unintelligible affirmations as they briskly walk away.

Well, as you can see, there is no reason to panic. Nothing is all right here, and the world is coming to an end. Please understand that I have found some very effective ways to deal with the stress that Armageddon brings. Firstly, give yourself the treat of some good all around attention: walk through the mall without clothing on, and smile to all you meet. Second: stop in the restaurant and briskly apply jelly to your ears. Your eyes will get squinty, and you will laugh loudly at the lack of pockets for hankies to wipe it off. Next will come the overpowering urge to charge people extra for car repairs.

Nevermind. That may have been a dumb idea. Just try something else, ok?

If you question my sanity or the validity of any of the aforementioned delinquent parboiled Parthenons, I say to you, “tough beans, Mr. or Ms. Smartenheimer!!” Sheesh!! Being absolutely correct is one of my hobbies, and unless I am mistaken, I have never been totally accurate on any doggoned thing in my whole life!! Fortunately for me, however, I know now that the more I learn the less I know. I learned that… I think. Ya know??

So in silence, I grant you three wishes, none of which will ever come true so forget about it. Don’t push me into something I don’t understand. I have low self-esteem and you know it. I have been taking classes for this, and they told me the best way to talk to people about your problems is to lie about the weather and run away laughing.

Be friendly to all you meet, as you may wish to borrow their used cereal someday. Have a conversation with a foreign car. Sing loudly with a mouthful of spaghetti; you’ll quickly learn who your real friends are. Feed your fish some dust and see how they like it. Try drinking from the toilet, cats do it all the time. Carry fried food in your pocket and offer it to strangers. Lick a telephone pole for fun.

Above all else, please remember: GOD MAKES NO JUNK, SO LOVE THYSELF!! OK?

Thank you for being, it gives me great comfort to know that you are.

Also, thanks in advance for not eating the crayons.

Peace, Love, and AM Radio,

Forvis “Green Tongue” Marbleswapper

a.k.a. “Runs With A Flashlight”

Well, OK, that was weird.  But hey, anyone remember Gumby?  Gumby was also pretty weird!!