Dear Service Warmers,

Thank you for ingesting both pots of crayfish broth during the Great Mustard Festival. After all, one can never be certain how long a 6 inch, foot long Sumpway Sand Witch will turn out to be; especially when it has long been known that TV antennas never make good Snackwonder Surprise.

For several years now, I’ve received several reminders that reinforce my long standing belief that there is a neurological connection between my hiney and my head bone. For example, I have determined this by venturing from my typing chair, this one here that I’m sitting on, in my writing room, where I am writing to you while typing and wondering what it was I should actually be telling you.

Do remember what I was gonna say??

Ah yes, I remember one example so well that I can’t really remember because it was more than 14 liggamops ago; but there I was, approximately 676 feet above sea level (plus or minus 3 million miles), thinking that because I used my aging body in the garden that day and it hurt in various places, maybe I should go downstairs and get some aspirin; so I got out of my chair, started out the door of my typing room (which I use for writing) (in addition to sitting) (and now the excessive use of parentheses in an already clunky run-on sentence), and lo and behold I completely forgot for why I was going down the stairs to get something; and I had no idea what the heck it was. Shortly thereafter (well OK, my body didn’t get shortened because I was the same size, but it wasn’t very much time) I mumbled to myself out loud so my ear things could induce vomiting:

“What the…?”

“What was I gonna…??”

“Why was I going downstairs???”

I came back; I sat down, and VOILA!! My brain thing in my headbone was now retrieving memory information. Finally I went for to put the aspirin into my mouth place and wash it down with some dihydrogen oxide (a.k.a. H2O). You see how that worked? I forgot, I came back, I sat down, and I remembered. It was like magic!! Therefore, the logical contusion is: my hiney’s nerve endings and my brain are connected somehow.

Please, no butt head jokes.  Unless you want to.

OK. So back to the original premise of thanking all of you Wonderful Yankle Tramplers out there who were so very helpful with drinking 72 gallons of crayfish squeezin’s during the Grape Custard Vestibule. I’m so very glad it has all been consumed!! Do you have any idea how difficult it is to sell that stuff on the street corner?? After a few hours it begins to smell like someone was storing tuna fish salad in my sneakers. After only 47 minutes you can bet your sweet golf hammer that I’ve filled my nostrils with marbles to prevent the barfstinkens from floating into my smellgrabber organs. And if you’ve ever heard “Inna Gadda Da Vida” and the wonderful smellgrabber organ noises produced during the song, well you know you’ve been treated to some of the best doggone Snot Marble Surprise this side of Eastern New Sniffington.

Very well then. I must go find solace in my cat’s new molar polishing machine. In the meantime my friends, I leave you with the wisdom of that age-old someone named Hyram C. Gilmore (a.k.a.me) whose circular germinations you may or may not have ever endured. Way back on Jangulary 34th, 1897 he stated:

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

Yes.

And now it’s time for a couple video things.  If you listen very closely to the words of the first song, you’ll notice that it makes at least as much sense as all the stuff you’ve read until now with your eyes that you used for reading on this page of story weirdness. The second song is, of course, “Inna Gadda Da Vida” in which the aforementioned smellgrabber organ (which may or may not be a real organ name thing), is featured.

Thank you.

And now for the smellgrabber song…

When grandsons came to visit, they got to choose what I wrote for “Happy Friday!!!” When I asked what the title for one week’s story should be, Ollie quickly said, “Fribbly’s Travels.” Then his younger brother Gabe mentioned, “You always get to choose!!” “Well Gabe,” I asked, “what would you like me to write about?” “Foogly’s travels!” he answered quickly. “Hmmm,” I replied. “How about Foogly’s Fribbly Travels??” They both chuckled their approval. So without further ado, here is:

Foogly’s Fribbly Travels

Late one morning, just before sunset during a thunderstorm which suddenly erupted into a very cold snow that seemed very crunchy and full of worms, Foogly was so bored he started drawing “Dream Maps” about really cool amusement parks made of sticks, rocks, crayons, and a sentence that was way too long. Foobly called them “Dream Maps” because these were places he had always dreamed of visiting, but for some strange reason they did not sell his favorite food: tomato ice cream soup with grilled coyote toenails.

Foogly’s friend Cheeba was watching intently as these maps were drawn with some of the most beautiful colors. After the 17^th map was made, Cheeba decided to offer her opinion about some really cool places to see. “Foogly, I really like your cool maps!” Cheeba declared. “But hey, I have some really fribbly places you might like to visit also!!” she continued. “Fribbly??” wondered Foogly. “What does ‘fribbly’ mean??” “It’s a combination of “wow” and “holy moly!!” Cheeba replied. “Oh… well not sure how you got that, but OK, if you say so,” Foogly said.

Cheeba offered to make her own maps, but with a twist. “Foogly, may I please borrow your cell phone?” she asked. Foogly answered, “I don’t have one, but here’s my Dad’s… he won’t mind… I don’t think.” “OK cool,” Cheeba said, and continued, “next I need a pot of water.” Foobly filled a 2 quart pot with some water. “Next,” Cheeba went on, “we’ll need 2 tablespoons of salt, 1 ½ teaspoons of cat litter (unused), 14 drops of red food coloring, and a small candle.” “What do we do with all that??” Foogly asked. “Just hand them all to me and I’ll show you,” Cheeba replied.

Foogly brought all the supplies to Cheeba and watched with wonder as she dumped them all into the pot of water and stirred everything up with a wooden spoon. “OK!” Cheeba said. “Now hand me those comics and a pair of scissors.” Foogly was a bit confused, but he went ahead and got the comics and the scissors and gave them to Cheeba. She giggled a little (I think she thought last week’s Garfield was pretty funny), then started cutting up the comics into little shreds and dumped them in the pot with all the rest of the stuff; and again she began to stir.

Cheeba smiled and stared into the pot, then she shouted, “OK!! LET’S TAKE THIS OUTSIDE!!” “Hey!!” said Foogly, “I’m right here!! You don’t need to shout!!” Cheeba apologized and grabbed the pot and quickly walked outside with it. “OK, ready??” she asked Foogly. “Um… I guess!!” Foogly answered. Suddenly there came a slushy !! SPLAT !! as Cheeba flung the contents of the pot onto the driveway.

“Wow!!” said Foogly, being awestruck by the mess. “Holy Moly!!” exclaimed Cheeba with a big grin. She was pretty happy with all the weird patterns everything made in the driveway. “OK,” she said, “you still have your Dad’s cell phone?” “Yep,” answered Foogly, and he handed it to her. Cheeba dialed a number and put the phone to her ear. “Hi Mom!! Yes, I’m still at Foogly’s house. Can you come and pick us up so we can go get some ice cream? Really?? Cool!!! Oh and can we go to that holy moly wow museum afterward? Yes?!?!? That would be really fribbly!! Thank you Mom!!” Cheeba hung up and handed the phone back to Foogly.

“Let’s go back inside and wait for my Mom,” Cheeba said. “But what about the mess in the driveway??” Foogly pleaded. “Don’t worry,” Cheeba reassured him. “All that stuff will combine and dissolve before you know it.” Foogly wasn’t so sure, but he was very happy that Cheeba’s Mom came to get them before his Dad got home from work. There was still a big mess in the driveway, but Foogly and Cheeba had a very fribbly afternoon. And they had ice cream!!

The End

Happy Friday to all who are reading this; even if you’re not reading it on Friday. This particular Happy Friday was the result of a visit from our grandsons several moogles ago; and during their visit I implored them to drum up some Happy Friday Fodder.

“I’m looking for a story suggestion… do either of you have a title for a story??” I asked. Ollie thought a minute, and replied, “ How about Friggley’s Favorite game?” “Friggley, huh?” I answered. “Yeah! Friggley,” Ollie said with a big smile. “OK…” I replied, and then started wondering what the heck to write. Anyway here goes:

Friggley’s Favorite Game

IT was a dark and stormy afternoon, just before breakfast while the crinkly worm windows wiggled wildly while whining with whistles. Friggley and Foofle, his pet snick-a-boo were just rolling out of the linen closet when they heard a knock at the back door. It was his friends, Blibber and Zork, and they were wiggling their eyebrows very fluffy-like trying to send eyebrow code to Friggley. Friggley opened the door to let them in, while Foofle danced around on his oversized nostrils in a most jovial manner.

Zork and Blibber laughed most iggidy at Foofle, then sat down and helped themselves to all the nice breakfast food that had been sitting on the table for at least 23 seconds. “Mmmm sure glad you’re our friend and don’t mind us helping ourselves,” Zork said. “These are the best clamshell cupcakes I’ve had all year!!” “Glad you like them,” Friggley snorted. “I found them on the road during The Great Chainsaw Festival. They keep really well in the freezer. You just take them out and yell at them in German and they’re ready to eat!!”

Blibber smiled at his two friends and slipped away to the fridge. He came back with the mustard; popped the top, squeezed the bottle, and started writing his name on one of the cupcakes. “This is what I do before I try to sell these on e-bay,” he chortled. “People like personalized banana lumps that can be reused as holiday decorations. I’m thinking I can sell about 43 of these every day for the next 6 weeks and I won’t have to ride that broken tricycle to school anymore. No no… I’ll be traveling in style. Wait till every one sees my brand new antique log wagon!!”

Friggley was grinning from ear to nose. He always enjoys his friends’ silly ways. Foofle seemed pretty happy also, as he was waggling all 7 of his saberteeth during Zork and Blibbler’s antics. “Hey, would you guys like something to drink? I know those clamshell cupcakes are pretty crunchy,” he said. “Sure!!” Blibbler and Zork said in unison. “Whatchya got??” “Well,” Friggley continued, “we have milk… it’s expired but it doesn’t have much mold on it. We have Mountain Dew… oh, and we have Jabba Jabba Jellyfish Juice.” “YUCKKK!!!” Zork and Blibber exclaimed. Then Zork said, “Oooohhh gross!! I’ll have the Jabba Jabba Jellyfish Juice!!” Blibber announced, “I’ll have the milk… you got a mold scraper??” “Sure do,” answered Friggley. “I know it’s disgusting but I’m gonna have the Mountain Dew,” Friggley went on. “You guys OK with that??” Again in unison, Zork and Blibbler said, “Yep!”

They all guzzled down their drinks while watching each other make very funny faces. Then Friggley said, “Hey, you guys wanna play my favorite game?” Both Zork and Blibber nodded their heads with enthusiasm. “Cool,” said Friggley. “Wanna play checkers? Of course I like chess almost as much”

Zork and Blibber tilted their heads in wonder. “Huh??” they said. “Chess??” queried Zork. “Checkers??” asked Blibber. “Never heard of them…” they said.

“Oh.” Said Friggley, “OK never mind, let’s just watch some cartoons.”

So they spent the rest of the afternoon burping strange odors from their magnificent beverages, and laughing at the likes of Little Lulu and Betty Boop.

The End

Hello My Friends,

I’m writing to tell you that my fingers are broken and can no longer type anything that requires typing. You may well ask, “Howma na heck are you having it the broken fingers? Anyhow?” Then again, you may not ask that.

Please do NOT ask that. It’s very poor grammar, and Grandma would find it less than delicious.

The reason my fingers are broken is because they are not broken at all, merely sleeping in a typing trance that occurs each week during the Morshnayvian Lunar Cycle. Previously I was riding a Pepto Dismal Cycle, but that one only had 14 wheels so I switched back to the Bread Flavored Hamper Cycle. It coasts down hills really well, but the brakes are made of chalk dust; and of course the FDA says that such things cannot be used in soups any longer.

Please refer to your Fronkle’s Universal Dictionary for a new and soil proof container for your unwanted dander. If you decide your dander is too oily for soil, gently injure the nearest lamp tossing machine and stand back while the multicolored fizzing foam engulfs your left elbow.

Thanks very much for being. I know you all are, and I’m truly grateful that this is. Hey, if you weren’t, you simply wouldn’t be; and then of course my thanks for your being would soon roll hastily toward the nearest asparagus burrito.

At this point, I must beseech unto you: If you do not enjoy this upcoming weekend, or any other day for that matter, I shall be forced to report you to the Inner Peace Police. If those guys apprehend your frownings, you’ll be mandated to toss marshmallows into the gopher hole for several hundred milliseconds. Soon after that, your presence will be requested at the North American Sandwich Throwing Contest, which is never held at midnight on top of Old Smokey.

Stand proudly during a meeting and give each of your office supplies a name; and tell them jokes often with a very big voice. This activity will very will very quickly let you know who you can trust.

Now I will go back to my finger realignment. Please call my veterinarian and find out if my lunch is still there.

Thank you,

Abner L. Pignibbler

a.k.a. “Mr. Kaboom”

And now for more varnish tray zipper waddles…

Superbowl Sunday looms over the horizon. Seems like just a year ago I was ignoring it just as much as I pretty much always have! Let’s see now… who’s playing anyway? The New York Mets and the Toronto Maple Leafs I think maybe. I sincerely hope the Mets win this year. I don’t believe they’ve ever taken a Superbowl in the entire history of their existence! So they are way overdue, don’t you think? I will maybe even watch some of the game. Looking forward especially to the halftime show when I’m hoping The Who will do their sing along with Elmer Fudd. Oh, and if I accidentally catch some of those wonderful commercials that would be OK too.

Anyway…

I’ll have to admit that I have attended one or two Superbowl parties in the past. Nothing like a nice spread of goodies and drinkings to help me make my belly and hiney the same shape: ROUND. Don’t get me wrong, I love the chips and dip, nachos, wings, fancy meat balls, and stuffed jalapeno peppers to make a night complete. I love all that stuff. Haven’t been to such a party in many years, but my hiney and my belly have not lost their shape for some strange reason.

Maybe I should quit with the 14 bowls of ice cream I’ve been having for breakfast every morning. That shouldn’t be so bad, should it?? Oh yes, I do enjoy fried chicken covered with chocolate syrup just before bed. And not to forget the double roasted French fries with extra extra butter sauce. Wash it all down with a pint of heavy cream just to make sure it doesn’t get stuck on the way down.

This is a recipe for success!!

Well OK, I may have been exaggerating just a little bit. I’m actually eating quite a bit better than, say, during the holidays; but all eat and no play makes Ken a fat boy. I am not interested in taking medication for the cholesterol. I know I can beat this… I just need to do a few simple things like run 18 miles each evening and restrict my daily food intake to a nice 1/2 ounce serving of celery chased with 33 gallons of water. Maybe my friends will let me sniff their snacks once in a while.

Aside from my efforts to stay clear of all things fattening, I definitely will be tuned in to at least a portion of the Superbowl this Sunday. That’s because after the Mets play a few innings against the LA Lakers, there will be some kind of halftime show that might even be entertaining. Hopefully they’ll have someone of my generation performing. Will it be The Who with Elmer Fudd or someone like Ringo McCartney or maybe even Eric Crampton?? I just don’t know!

If you pass my house during the game, don’t worry about all the hooting and hollering. It will just be me getting all excited while I shout “LET’S GO METS!!” at the TV. Sometimes I get rather worked up and my tray of garlic flavored marshmallows gets knocked over. Then when I stoop to pick up the mess, the cat starts making off with my chocolate covered sardines. I wouldn’t mind so much really, but just last night both my kitties got into my deep fried mashed potatoes with that delicious bacon fat gravy. Gotta watch those kids, ya know??

Well friends, I hope you all enjoy the game and have a safe and enjoyable Superbowl Sunday. And if you have cats or other animals, guard your snacks!!

So… ever what the guys on the field are really saying during a pro-football game?? Well watch this video and you still won’t know!! But it might make you laugh…

The NFL blocks it here, but click on this and you can watch–> Funny NFL Bad Lip Reading

Dear Friends,

I know you may have become weary of seeing my face so I’m not going to change it at all for you. No, instead I’m moving to Zootflaven and I will change my name to Bremply Doatlekonk. Ha ha on youse kids, so there!! On the Bookface I announced that I was going to change my name to Milksnort Fogwaffle, but that was at least two hours ago, so of course it’s ancient history.

If you’ve never been to Zootflaven, don’t come crying to me. I never told you to come along during my last vacation there; because I didn’t want to share any of those tasty poshtangles or the delightfully disgusting hock-pitooey drinks. Sure, I’ve made both of those at home but the mess incurred during preparation is genuinely disguised as a small rodent burping through a keyhole.

Is this the part where we all sing the “Cuckoo Cranberry” song? Well try to keep up, but I will give you the words…

Cuckoo Cranberry, lying in the street.

Please don’t expect it to taste like meat.

Its face was squished by that big fat bus.

And nobody yelled or tried to warn us.

Oh Cuckoo Cranberry, where did you go?

If he hollers let him go, eeny meeny miny moe.

This of course is sung to the tune of “Cuckoo Cranberry Ate A Whistle.” Please do not confuse this with the award winning song, “Cuckoo Clock Rock.”

Did you know that crayons were invented?? Those things are all over the place!! I’ve even seen them in restaurants, but not for eating. What I mean is, I don’t eat the crayons anymore, nor to I try to use them for eating anything. I have been scolded and told that this is bad manners. However, I do have fond memories of peeling them and “accidentally” dropping them into the radiators at Sunday school. They become very colorfully liquified… eventually. As an added bonus, they give a pleasant colored melted wax scent to the atmosphere.

Perhaps, just perhaps, I should not have put those two bottles of cough syrup on my cereal this morning. My cats gave me funny looks when I took all the pictures to post on InstaBook. Whoa… maybe I should have dumped the contents of those two bottles into the bowl of cereal!! Cool idea… probably would have been more photogenic than just the unopened bottles. All those Loopy Frootles floating in purple syrup… maybe place it on a turntable and take a 12 minute video.

Farm out, man!! Right arm!! Solid state!! Groovy gravy!!

OK… now you know my intentions for the next several solstice arrivals. If you’d like to come visit me in Zateflooven; please visit your ambidextrous orthodontist for a seldom opinion. Just walk up to the reception area and ask for me by my new name, Broatly Konkledemp. I will be the one erupting in boisterous laughter as I make all the pens and pads of paper appear to float in the air; for you see by then I will have learned to make myself invisible.

In the meantime, please remember what Hyram C. Gilmore has said for years:

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

Insincerely yours,

Krempledoat Bonkely

“And now,” as Mr. Cleese would have said, “for something completely different.”

A very merry who’s a what now?? Yes, that’s right, A Very Merry Malapropism To You. Some of you might wonder, “What the heck-a-ma-lookey is a malapropism??” Or perhaps not!! Well according to the Merriam-Webster dictionary, a malapropism (pronounced mal-uh-PROPE-ism) is:

The usually unintentionally humorous misuse or distortion of a word or phrase

especially : the use of a word sounding somewhat like the one intended but ludicrously wrong in the context.

What can I say, I love to play with English. It often makes my whole self laugh at myself. And that can be a very good thing. My professional opinion is this: there is so much ickety boo in the world, we need to take a break and laugh a bit once in awhile. I’ve learned long ago not to do this at anyone else’s expense, no matter how much I would like to (yes, I’m human…).

So one of my favorite ways to play with English is to inject malapropisms into my speech or writing. For example, my son came over for dinner yesterday. I was hoping to find a DiGiorno’s supreme pizza at the store but for some reason they weren’t in stock. So, I settled for a rising crust plaza with sausage and pepperonly. As you can see, I not only misuse words, but I misuse the eye deer of pudding two words to gather even when they don’t belong.

Because it’s fun.

Hope everyone had simply marvelous holly day season. We enjoyed a very nice time with just our intermediate family… my daughter and son-in-law, two grandsons, my son and me. The six of us traveled to Florida in separate cars together (son and I rode together). It was rather weird having Christmas with out the Mom of the family (my Beautiful Honey Pie); so my daughter thought a trip to Florida would be a good disk traction.

No add traction stuff for us this time. No Disney World (makes me barf), no See World (yuck), no Universal theme park (did that last year). Nope. Instead, we went to St. Augustine to see the very old Spanish fart with very old canyons and we got in for free because I’m a veteran and I never knew that all veterans can get a lifetime free pass to ALL national parks and they didn’t charge ANY of us for admission; witch, in my professional opinion was, like totally cool and hey, there’s my first run-on sentence of the year so I hope that helps you smile just a little bit.

Then we went to Ripley’s Believe It Or Not museum. That was very enjoyable, egg specially since my Lovely Wife and I went there with our two kids when they were much younger peep pull. Lastly we went to a medieval torcher museum which caused me to be very sad in my heart (seriously) because of the audio guide which described in detail how all the terrible things are used. I went into the rooms ahead of the gang so I could quickly be reminded of how horrible people can be to each other, but I waited outside while they went in and listened to the audio guide.

Ouch!! Yuck!! Ptoo!!!!

Awl in awl, we had a very nice trip, in spite of the crazy drivers who zipped in and out of traffic as if they owned the hole road. I found myself wishing they would fall into a hole in the road, but I wouldn’t really wish anyone to be harmed so I guess they should knot really fall into a whole. Butt they sure do drive like may knee acts. Those are the lunar tunes who cause accidents, ya know what I’m saying??

Sew now I’m home, and there are so many things to do. It’s probably gonna take me some time to play ketchup; butt that’s OK… since I’ve bean retired I try hard not to put too much pretzel on myself. I mean really, who kneads the stretch of shelf imposed deadlines? Those can be way too stretchable for me; and one thing I don’t need is more stench. No… I prefer a calm existence and make it a point to enjoy each moment. There are times when I try to quiet my mind through transcontinental medication, but too often I get random thoughts that distract me from calming my nerds ineffectively.

Anyway, hope all of you are having a very nice 2025. So far so good for me. Perhaps one day I’ll develop a style of writing that doesn’t involve frivolously misused words (or even made up words).

Ummm… no. I don’t think so.

Well, this guy never did much with word mangling, but he always made me laugh.