Ach Du Lieber!! Das Internet Ist Kaputt!!

Posted on February 3, 2023 by Hyram C. Gilmore

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

Posted on September 16, 2022 by Hyram C. Gilmore

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!!

Moist Ditches And Windshield Wipers

Posted on June 24, 2022 by Hyram C. Gilmore

When the news of the world becomes as stressful as a large bowl of salmon scales, I often begin to reminisce about the good old days when lutefisk was worn casually in the shape of a man’s oversized basketball hamper while small, decorative houseflies jump though hoops of blazing oatmeal during halftime at the “Sniff Your Dog’s Crayons” Festival; which is held every 10^th Sunday of Jangulary in the beautifully snail infested vegetable drawer of Nyvack, New Applesander.

This of course has nothing to do with messages like:

“I believe I’ll resume sleeping in moist ditches again soon.” Or

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to borrow your windshield wipers for a couple months.”

And of course:

“Now that I’ve reached Mt. Agnes, my next journey will involve training my hair to light up during times of Zombie Invasions.”

All of these communications will be delivered to your screens long before you are able to discern the value of large piles of rusted pine trees. Please don’t attempt to erase this long standing lard hopper entertainment removal procedure. You’ll only end up with way too many roasted pick whistle shavings.

Speaking of whistle spray, I’m hereby reminded of a true (and probably completely false) recounting of our dear Grand Leaf Handler:

Long ago in Grandfather’s beard, a small squid died and stunk for days. All the village Elders offered him fire to drink and hid his remote control. Little children crawled up to see him and chewed off his toes. His own family sent for the Magic Bowl. They filled it with bird runch and mixed in pork, crayon shavings and geek fat. The ceremony began with the first three episodes of “Gilligan’s Island”; and when Grandfather started lusting for Mrs. Howell they fed him the Modongo. Very soon Grandfather blortled and fipped. He asked “What kind of bird runch are you feeding me today? Anyhow?” His family laughed at the snackwonder: “OH! AH! HOO!”, they bribbled. And that is how this Hay-Wy-Ann Island got its name.

I think…

Therefore my friends, dwell not on the nonsensical. Please do not try to extract any logical explanation for silly text that has no rhythm or sense of smelt. Additionally, remember that silliness is not at all similar to boiling marbles in chocolate powder. Lord knows only bicycles can endure that type of topical storm.

Thank you, and may all your blessings fly paper airplanes during important salamander conferences.

Yours In Deep Sleep,

Melbert “Whippy” Goatfinder

And now for the REAL taste test that was delivered many years ago in a dream I’d like to remember while grocery shopping. Beware: lots of slapstick in this one.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0WtUUAEFUi4

A Grateful Heart Has No Tonsilitis

Quote

Posted on June 17, 2022 by Hyram C. Gilmore

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 in This Universe, what with televised evidence of the attempted democracy destruction and war and inflation and stuff like that there. 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 13 day week be no Oldsmobile to that incubation.

Four egg sample: I decided to purchase gasoline today. Thought $4.96 was a bargain!! I never thought I would think that the thought of thinking that gas less than $5 a gallon was a thought to be thought of. But I was grateful (?) to get the “bargain.” After I put over $70 into my Toyota Sienna Racing Van (which, by the way, gets about 30 mpg if I go just a smidge less than 65 mph), my Lovely Wife Person made a rather sacrilegious exclamation. As I opened the door to get back in, I turned my back toward my Beautiful Girlfriend and asked, “Honey, is my hiney bleeding??” We left the gas station with a Holy Mackerel Price Rash, but soon found ourselves saying, “We must remain grateful that we are still able to pay our bills, and put gas on our table and put food in our car!!” After all, we are indeed very fortunate people who no longer require adult supervision at most Twinkie eating contests!! So yes, we are not happy that the oil companies are robbing us, but the bottom line is that we needed to get with the gratitude awreddy to prevent our heads from exploding.

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

Thankfully, I’ve acquired some tools during this Journey Called Life that give me the ability to cope with the smell of rotten eggs and other people who seem bent on ruining our everything. I smile and decide not to be El Groucho inside my brain world. 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 try hard to not take the horrible events of the world too poisonously. Then perhaps I may also sprinkle some nonsense into the Happy Friday Writing Thing to make myself chortle and breep and hopefully help others to chuckle Chiclets while changing their socks. Of course I could take the alternate route and vehemently complain until my forehead has become inflamed with large pickles that fly violently in all directions. This of course would serve no other purpose than to unsuccessfully clone my onion rings 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, and thankfully The Grouchies are much fewer and farther between than previous infections. I’ve learned that I can start my day over again with a new happy and grateful attitude. Then if I get grouchy once more it will hopefully be a little less, and I keep practicing the gratitude thing. Then if people continue to get on my nerves, I’ll merely sing a pleasant song to them when their ears are not looking. Something cheerful 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, is what seems to be an attitude of “Hooray for Me and to Hell with YOU” in our nation 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 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 figgly and bickety-boo! So then I start getting more with the Grouch Ouch, and I want to go bite a bark flavored tricycle!!

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 this cartoon was made when gas was just a wee bit cheaper than today…

Random Silliness

Posted on May 6, 2022 by Hyram C. Gilmore

Dear Pasta Snarfers,

Some or none of you may enjoy pasta snarfing, but regardless, I felt it was time to inject some laugh time into my (and hopefully your) day due to the crazy goings-on we are seeing on the radio and hearing on TV; and although you may not be aware of it, all that gives me the ability to insert a time-honored run-on sentence-with hyphens-that don’t-really belong-where I’m-putting them-but I-really-don’t-care because hey, it’s just-for-the-fun of it, ya know??

Please be advised that I will rent you some chocolate ear mite remover if you vow to stop wearing socks for 134 days. Nobody says any other removal tool will have any effect on plant life in Nairobi. Nobody can convince me of any other software in these times of uncertainty
and battered hamster hocks. I don’t know who Nobody is, but I hope they’re happy!!

If you don’t want to focus on all the yuckity-poo news screamings, please remain calm and toast your noodles for an inexpensive treat, gently throw spoons to the dog, and use a dustmop for cleaning those hard-to-reach nasal passages. Personally, I really need to quit stuffing donuts in my ears. But they are so soft!!

At least 47 times I wanted to make music, but all I had was a bent kazoo and a drum made of an oatmeal container. The only song I could play was “Doot Doot Bonk.” However, during my years of practicing that broken oboe I was never able to find, I envisioned a small pepper clown foraging in the wilderness. Not sure what the pepper clown was seeking but I know from a complete lack of experience that hidden in the leaf piles there may be invisible ink with which to write secret recipes. I hope there are also returnable bottles available for spare change!! This would give a happy pepper clown great enjoyments of candy and other immune system sanitizers.

Looks like I’ll need to stop eating drywall chips. I thought they would help my tummy’s rancid reflux, but now my hiney seems to think it wants to be a building contractor. After the disintegrating drywall diarrhea disturbance, please come over to our house and enjoy some dust muffins we made several weeks ago. We’ll wash them down with a nice hot cup of Crampers Cream of Toenail Soup, giggle heartily, and run wildly to the nearest receptacle. We’ll have fun!!

Some of the finest cheeses are kept in my sock drawer. This serves two purposes: A) they are aging nicely and 12) they are giving my socks that “nicely worn” fragrance. Some of the best cheese I’ve ever eaten was not found between my toes. However, if I could learn to play guitar with my feet I could invite my musician friends to a Toe Jam.

Perhaps a poem should be inserted at this point…

Gravy

by Me

Gravy in my armpits, syrup on my knees.

Buckets full of macaroni hanging from the trees.

Images of all these things will stick inside my head.

Hope I have a different dream when I go back to bed.

Please remember: You’ll never get anywhere in this life if you don’t go where you are trying to go. If you are already on your way, please stop at the nearest Caffeine Kaboom and tell everyone I said howdy. Also, please get me one of those fizzy cookies.

Thank you.

As you all know, this Sunday is Mothers Day. To all of you Moms out there, Thank You and God Bless You.

Linguini On Parade

Posted on April 1, 2022 by Hyram C. Gilmore

Hello My Fellow Pastrami Crinklers,

This is to inform none of you that all new banana recipes should be turned in to the Front Sniffing Room before 12:47 p.m. on Tuesday, August 72, 19127. This is to ensure the cranial vibration machines will be well coagulated prior to sailing off to Monster Island.

None of you may remember “The Hatchling Song;” the words of which were “stolen” by Gus Parbnackle during the Second Coat Hanger Revolt of 1924.

This enjoyable malady has been renewed during the last 28 microseconds and is now sung to the tune of “Inna Gadda Da Vida”:

Guess who barfed on my shoes today
Do dah, do dah
Hatchlings shouldn’t act this way
Oh do dah day…

Some may proclaim, “hey, that looks like it should be sung to the tune of ‘Camptown Races!!’ ” Well of course those who find that line of dingle berries fuzzy and warm will never be successful at launching pickles with catapults. No, rather they will wander aimlessly over hill and dale; squandering what was left of my 2^nd grade lunch money.

I’d like a refund yesterday or the year before if you please.

If you find it necessary to rekindle the spirit which is found to be both blue and wormy; please run directly to your neighbors and ask them to return the crescent wrench your uncle borrowed shortly before dinner last Wednesday morning. Perhaps they are unaware that even inanimate objects yearn for their homeland; which is exactly why we intend to bury all wrenches back into the iron mines from whence they originated.

In summary, I must remind you not to rub sandpaper inside your mucous membranes. Fortunately, that practice has been abandoned long ago due to the over abundance of spaghetti in water fountains made by Mattel. Additionally, please stop putting duct tape sticky side up on my favorite Loaf Toasting Chair. I’ve been mocked numerous times during my grocery store excursions that followed some nice Loaf Toasting Sessions. If you Are Willing to comply with My Duct Tape Restraint Request (DTRR); I’ll also Be Willing to Cease the Use of Grammatically incorrect CapiTalization (UGIC).

MayBe. If I fEel liKe it. OK MaybE noT.

(FOOP).

Thank you for being who you are. After all, if you weren’t you, you wouldn’t be. That would be very confusing to you now wouldn’t it??

My toes look like morel mushrooms again!!

Happy Bozo Express,

Zibnick G. Amplegrane
a.k.a. “Monty the Moth Rancher”

Without any further ado, here be this week’s cartoon. Gotta love Betty!! This one’s from The Internet Archive, so the player’s a bit weird. After opening, click on the arrows in the bottom right corner to view it full screen. Below the cartoon is a link to a rather silly song sent to me by a friend… never heard this one before and it shows that Bob Dylan has a sense of humor.

Electronic Refractions And Mandatory Recycling Procedures

Posted on February 25, 2022 by Hyram C. Gilmore

Horrible things are occurring on our Planet today. A ruthless dictator is doing his best to steal an independent nation; and there are some citizens in our own country who think this jerkface Vladimir Putin is a great guy. This all makes me barf on the ground with bad sadness. Therefore, in an attempt to achieve complete detachment from all this nasty business, I present to you all a helping of nonsense which I hope will comfort your earlobes with copious amounts of bacon which is infused with multi-colored raisin crystals. Herewith, therefore, and to wit is the very important letter for none of you to amplify during cleanser commercials.

Dearest Traves and Mizzledenters,

In the interest of a more secure planet whose resources have been dwindling at an alarming rate, we must now embark upon an aggressive lotion application program for each and every living organism on this home we call Earth.

Some of you may well ask, “how does one apply lotion to pollywogs and other large mammals?” As a famous president often said, “let me say this about that.” Seriously, if you cannot yet grasp the operational intricacies of the Royal Lotion Brush, then please do not attempt to enter the Cat Coating Laboratory. Cats are not amused when radioactive desserts are substituted for common flashlight banana candles.

Please ask both of your friends whether they can seriously find themselves. You simply never know in this day and age where one can be found. And of course, if one is found then others will be soon to follow. Follow me to the store and I may or may not purchase some electronic bread removal tools. These and other contraceptives can be found floating through the 73^rd dimensional portal that was built by the Ancient Dribblers.

I’ve asked our electronic recycling contractors to apply soap to both wheels. Please let me know if any capacity regions require further coagulation. The most effective method of communication for this purpose is very loud yodeling during a thunderstorm. Each yodel should be very melodic as well as crunchy; and the yodeler must be prepared to catch the fresh, warm output of the Danish Donut Ejection Machine. Please keep this in mind for the upcoming summer months or weeks or days, because as we all know, summer months and some are not.

This procedure is truly vital and must be followed exactly. Some of the more common questions that may or may not arise are:

Do chocolate celery sticks enjoy a separate life cycle?

What color is this wandering balloon whose name is Alfred?

Remember that one time when we were sleeping in the snowbank?

Is this carnival really safe?

When do we get to press the Magic Button?

Are you going to eat that???

Please thank yourselves in advance for your constellations. After all, EVERYBODY is a star.

Happy Wheezing,

Brebbick N. Zemberklang
a.k.a. “Foofie McSnuffington”

Now these have NOTHING to do with ANYTHING but they were fun for me.

Hopefully for you too…

A Friendly Letter To Lorveltran And His Roglaynian Cousins

Posted on February 4, 2022 by Hyram C. Gilmore

Dear Perglezookeys,

Please don’t spread the word, but as I have already alerted Wiblet and his famous Jumping Voles, I have been masticating during lunch. My mandible enjoys this to the point where it is pretty much automatic. Please do be aware, however, that mastication is a pure, wholesome, and reasonably natural process and should not be refreshed in the name of Dondo Frijole. You personally may opt NOT to masticate, but do so only with the precaution that you might be setting yourself up to receive the Hindkick maneuver from your piers. Piers and maybe even docks. If their are two such piers, well that of course would be a paradox.

On the other hand, you may receive the Hand Lick maneuver, which is totally disgusting and miserably ineffective. If you receive the Hand Lick maneuver on both hands, well, please don’t go around calling crayons bad names. Your piers may not even want to try it. And of course, if you add an “L” to “piers,” you get “pliers,” and that’s what Herman the Zinc Miner will use to pinch your septum every single time the Three Stooges investigate the Twighlight Zone.

In the early morning night time, I opened the window and several nonfurry checkbook carriers escaped and ran through the intersections. As I saw this, I twinkled my toes and exclaimed, “Holy Photonic Calibration!! There go four of my unused satellite receivers!” If you see them, it’s likely they will be traveling with soup and perhaps even potato cartilage. This flavor based combination will intimidate even the best of all your political capuccino. Why anyone would even attempt to varnish tomatoes is way beyond my constitution.

Clang clang clang go the whistles, enjoying help from Above and Oh my God my socks are draining again. Above refers to a place higher than me, where birds, helicopters, and dragonflies enjoy friendly “Hey let’s watch The Exorcist again” parties. If you happen to be near such a gathering, please run from the wildebeest and leave a trail of Poppin’ Fresh doughnuts so we can find you when it’s time to do the dishes.

Are you trying to annoy me with that cheap imitation of a screen door you call “Lermick??” Well, just so you know, you’ll never make any Cracker Barrel Surprise with that silly rubber spoon you’ve hidden in the sofa cushions. I beseech you, never attempt to wave your antler hammers at my pet goat fish while she’s washing the television. This never happened before, and probably will never happen again at least 43 times or less. Unless, of course, the bread turns left at the next power pickle.

Someone stole eleven percent of my brain. This makes the chore of even normale typeikng vyery diffiddicult indeeded.n Sol I lleave youoyou noww, bbefoorew I cane nlwo longerers type * at # Alle.’

By buy,

Zeb Rookenzool

Action Figure of Choice,

3003 Ozone Olympics

P.S.: Soon I will buy you some string you can use to persuade insects to do fancy tricks.

Unless your name is Bimbo and you are trying to join a fraternity…

An Important Notification To Everyone’s Dendrites

Posted on January 28, 2022 by Hyram C. Gilmore

Dear Friends,

My Beautiful Girlfriend and I recently had a very coniferous inflammation recently: our friendship has been radioactive for a little over 50 years!! I mean, we’ve known and loved each other since we were both 17!! And we are 67 now!! And There Are Way Too Many Exclamation Points In This Paragraph; Along With Truly Excessive Capitalization Which As You May Have Guessed Will Soon Morph Into A Run-on Sentence But My Pinkies Are Now Growing Weary Of Hitting The Shift Key So All I Can Say Is That I hope each and every one of you likes having whatever it is you’re having!!!! I had some earlier and it was pretty darn good!!!!! I hope to have some more another time, but for now I’ll be happy to enjoy the “have had” experience!!!!!

Yes!! Yes Indeed!!

50 years!! That’s like more than two weeks I believe. We are both completely flatulent that this amount of time could have sneaked past us in such a zoomy fashion. For us, childhood has become a distant memory, a flash in the pan. And pan flash is very flashy!! Yes, we both remember that we were living in different homes together way back when, but it’s as if our current friendship / marriage / romancing time has been with us pretty much our whole lives. As frogs say (or so I’ve been told), time really is fun when you’re having flies. I mean, is it not true that The Beatles first came to the US on the Mayflower just a few years ago? What??? That was fifty eight years ago?? No… This cannot be. I refuse to accept these amenities.

Something’s gotta be said about this time zooming phenomenon. Therefore, I need to change bottle caps right now to issue this important bulletin:

IMPORTANT BULLETIN

(This is the important bulletin.)

(All the bold purple text down below here.)

(I thought purple and bold would stand out so…)

(Now there are too many parentheses!!)

OK, here’s the bulletin in bold purple awreddy!!

This is to advise all steam hangers that any further disguising of endocrine lamps will be postulated with electric germ tables on or about September 27, 2024. All related salivation will occur just before lunch has a chance to hit the fan.

This is NOT a drill.

I cannot inflame you strongly enough to cease and desist with the act of emulating small furry granola bars. After all, any irresponsible kazoo impresario will automatically endure greatly exaggerated facial expressions.

Gradually we will consult the prototype monkey bar infusion devices in an attempt to discern extraordinary methods of vegetable and / or marshmallow juice extraction. Until then, please return to your imaginary “safe place” and enjoy the gumdrop flavored caffeinated meat sticks.

If you have any questions about the arrangement of your bedroom furniture, please contact Moller Enterprises in Sedgewicke Valley, New Mexico and they will refund your pajamas with explosion resistant platform shoes.

Thank you for your cooperation and your willingness to bathe without the use of abrasive chowder shavings.

Sincerely,

Barker G. Finkledust

a.k.a. “Mr. Snackwonder”

On the other hand, does anyone remember Buster Keaton?

Dust Flingers Don’t Dunk Donuts (Or Do They??)

Posted on November 5, 2021 by Hyram C. Gilmore

Hello Dust Flingers,

As none of you are able to hear, this Sunday marks yet another period of a time change in this part of our universe. Because of this radical shift in sunrise and sunset times, all humans will wonder what day it really is and will probably try to spit small chunks of Tootsie Rolls out of their car windows while driving backwards into the firewood pile.

Therefore, I have appointed myself to inform none of you that all new banana recipes should be turned in to the Front Sniffing Room before 12:47 p.m. on Tuesday, August 72, 19127. Those of you who think you can merely squawk and sneeze loudly instead of dunking donuts down deeply into dense but delicious Dingly Drinks will be sent to live with the Carnivorous Cranberry Credit Card Cultivators.

That oughta show ’em who’s crinkly!!

None of you may remember the hatchling song; the words of which were “stolen” by Gus Parbnackle during the second Coat Hanger Revolt of 1924. This enjoyable malady has been renewed during the last 28 microseconds and is now sung to the tune of “Inna Gadda Da Vida”:

Guess who barfed on my shoes today??
Do dah, do dah!!
Hatchlings shouldn’t act this way!
Oh do dah day…

If you find it necessary to rekindle the spirit which is found to be both blue and wormy; please run directly to your neighbors and ask them to return the crescent wrench your uncle borrowed shortly before dinner last Wednesday morning at precisely 4 PM. It may be wrinkly from soaking in the Cream of Marshmallow Soup for 13 days, but that should not deter you from accepting the responsibility of teaching slimy, hairy chickens how to yodel during Disney movies.

Come now, don’t you remember the terrible consequences from the last time you tried to clean your ventricles by drinking 134 millimeters of petrified braunschweiger?? You see, it doesn’t matter that you slathered it onto caraway seeded rye with just a little mayo and some yellow mustard and HOLY MOLY I’m suddenly getting a craving for some freshly smoked shrimp on the half shell!! Why would you taunt me in such a manner?? Don’t you have any respect for Lando The Lizard’s self esteem?? I doubt he’ll ever visit here again at snack time!!

I hope you’re happy!!

Therefore I beseech unto you: Please remember that:

A) you can pick radishes before they are ripe and they will still be red,

9) Being flatulent is not necessarily helpful during a job interview.

@!) When Santa sees those dog toenails you’ve been collecting; he’ll likely ask where you got those fancy display cases.