The Inner Peace Police

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 broken fingers? Anyhow?” Then again, you may not ask that.

Please do NOT ask that.

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 that of course 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. 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…

An Important Corporate Bulletin

Dear Underlings,

As I’m sure none of you are aware, the consensus reached during the recent Corporate Rally And Preparation meeting (CRAP) was that communication has been lacking.  It is in this spirit that we announce the following additions; designed to complement the guidelines of our Company Hospitality Enhancement Additions Policy (CHEAP).

All that being said, we’re excited to announce to all of you that new tasting tanks have been installed in Room 1023.  You can enjoy the flavor of any gravy or fruit salad by merely entering the tank and setting the knob to 2.3 while pointing your index fingers to Alpha Centauri and / or Cleveland.

Please be certain to wear protective clothing while tasting the new entries on the Flavor Dials.  Each dial has a luminous cramp lantern designed to strike fear in the hearts of any lingering mole wrench sleeveless hydrocarbons.The new entries, of course, include Swiss, Roquefort, and Toe cheeses.  Utmost caution is urged, however; as no one is completely certain as to the effect of cutting the cheese in the confines of the tank. Enjoy the scented antler handles in full view of the sinus chipper mechanism.

Many of you may also have noticed the velvet coating that has recently been applied to the walls and floors in the cafeteria.  This should allow grumpy employees to increase their fluffiness after the mandatory face rubbings.  Face Time will be scheduled during breaks and lunches to allow others to photograph the Softness Surprise Sessions that will be accompanied by a very large accordion with percussive inquisitions.  Be sure to wear your mask and rub your face only on designated, pre-sanitized areas.

Last but by no means least, Karl and Milly-Rae Snortwaffle have agreed to spearhead our saliva collections again this year.  As in previous years, it would be very much appreciated if all of you could please make sure your contribution lands in the Collection Vessel, rather than on Karl or Milly-Rae’s shoes.  Although both Mr. and Mrs. Snortwaffle enjoyed the shiny, yet ucky patina on their safety boots, they also reported sudden nausea and gagging when they tried to unlace before dinner time.  Thanks in advance to Karl and Milly-Rae for keeping the Spit Vats full so our machines are automagically lubricated during these challenging economic times.

If you have any questions about the use of the tasting tanks, velvet face rubs, or Spit Central, please call 800-555-1212 and ask for Mr. Crinkleberry.  He will never really help you, but he is an excellent listener and has been known to make really good dingleberry jam.

Thank you,

Francis “Golden Boy” Jinglepockets

President and CEO, StinkyInks, Inc.

And now for something completely different…

Silly School Tips

Hello Persons,

Although it is still the dog days of summer, The Labor Day will be one more time coming to visit us, and the schools may or may not open due to the COVID-19 indignation. Regardless, I have some very important suggestions that are enumerated below (see the BIG words I am using?? This must be important!!); and I will now use my bestest English sentence structure and grandma to present whatever it was I was trying to mention. Since nobody requested any guidance from the likes of me, I will hereby place it in front of your eyes anyway, regardless of your willingness to enjoy and / or utilize what I consider to be the very best methods of succeeding at school; and if you don’t agree with me please just remember that this needlessly long run-on sentence is my proud rendition of very important tips that everyone had just better embrace with great enthusiasm so I don’t have to get Gornok, my very large pet monster, involved for enforcement. You get what I’m sayin’???

This is irreverent to the need for some residual guidelines of good, down-home, school amplification tips. I have decomposed a few of these gridlines, as shown below, which have never helped me use a mirror to look myself in the eye and exclaim, “YOU! You again!! Quit following me!!” Of course, these days I am pretty good friends with me so it’s OK if I follow myself around now.

So, as you approach the school days of your present hello, please remember these simple things, which I’m sure will help you or perhaps your offspring greatly on a daily basis:

1) Wear your socks on your hands and bark at the teachers. This will keep their attention while you are nearby.

2) Sell used insects during and after class. You can increase your earnings by autographing the exoskeletons of these nice little creatures. Very collectible and easy to store.

3) Carry 7 1/2 foot lengths of rusty pipe between classes. People will leave you alone and let you have all the room you need in the halls.

4) Give me lots of money. I like money. This is good, to give it to me. You may hand it to me, or e-mail it to: noway@nuh-uh.com.

5) Trade your pens and pencils for very large crayons and chalk. Use these to do your homework, especially that which MUST be typed. If confronted about your workmanship, tell the teachers that these are the only things your pet hyena will not eat.

6) GET THAT CHICKEN OFF MY SHOULDER!! Huh? It’s a fly? Oh, OK!! Whew!! Sorry…

7) .backwards sentences your all write ,it of fun the for Just .order reverse in words the put just is mean I What .correctly do to difficult very be can This .sometime it Try

8) Mix occasionally in a sentence up the words. English teachers can tested be way this, to see attention if they are paying. Surprised you might be, find to out many how not really teachers reading homework are carefully very.

9) Lern two spel and dew it korrekly at awl thymes. Yoo mossed bee eggstreamly cairfull abowt chekking yor werk.


10) Punctuation! Is very? Important in proper, sentence, structure use it correctly don’t you hate it when people don’t.

Very well then. I’m happy to excrete that now you are prepared for anything that may fall into your potato salad. Enjoy the weekend, and always remember that it’s better to be you than for you to be me; and although you can count to it, eight is a word, not a number.

OK fine,

Klern Forkstabber

Imitation Education Expert

Bribley Lamp Cord Museum

Room 421

Viffleburp, New Honkney 1020103

And now please to enjoy these two videos of the amazing foot tapping bippity bops of Gracie, George, and Fred.

An Open Letter To Friends Or Others

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.

Today I received reinforcement of my long standing belief that there is a neurological connection between my hiney and my head bone. This I have determined 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.

So 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 today and it hurts 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 what for I was going down the stairs to get something; I have 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 come back; I sit down, and VOILA!! My brain thing in my headbone was now retrieving memory information. I go for to put the aspirin into my mouth place and wash it down with some dihydrogen oxide. Therefore, the logical contusion is: my hiney and brain are connected somehow.

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

OK. So back to the original premise that all of you Wonderful Yankle Tramplers out there were so very helpful with drinking 72 gallons of crayfish squeezin’s during the Grape Custard Vestibule. 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 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” on the smellgrabber organ, 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 whose circular germinations you may or may not have ever endured:

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

And now it’s time for the video thing.  If you listen very closely to the words of this song, you’ll notice that it makes at least as much sense as all the stuff you’ve read until now on this page of story weirdness with your eyes that you use for reading.

On the other hand, you have the smellgrabber song…

Globs Of Mugg And A Rented Blanex

Dear Friends,

The news has been rather stressful lately. I’m so trinkled by all of the fizzpop that I really can’t bear to lick the remote control!! I’m here to say, that for me, there is no better stress relief than writing and / or reading nonsense. Well, there probably are other remedies for stress warts, but nonsense is a good thing for my earwax to enjoy one of those good ones.

Things.

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

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

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

Now that you’ve sampled the goat raisins, you are ready to progress to the next step:  wonkling.  Wonkling can be very stationary and exquisitely mobile.  Use something to do a task, throw it in the air, and use it no more.  This is the way of the stationary wonkler.  Change lanes abruptly, apply heat to an iron molecule, and shake your hair until the electrons fall off.  This is the way of the mobile wonkler.  Wonkle like you’ve never wonkled before.  That will show them!!  I find deep fried owl toes a most enjoyable snack while driving heavy whipping cream through the vegetable cemetery.

And now for the shaming:

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

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

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

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

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

Remove this teleprompter from your jailing list.

Do it today.

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

To Our Dear Grandsons, Whom We Miss Terribly

Dear Revilo and Leirbag,

Even though our faces have Facetimed, please be aware that we miss you terribly and have begun to wash our faces with strawberry jelly just before smelling the driveway juices run down the sides of the Very Important Egg Warmers (VIEWs), If you don’t believe us, well, I guess I can only remind you of the time that both of you never fell down from that gigantic pile of roasted pickle tires!! Right??? Yes!! And of course there was also never the time when you each tried to swallow my radio controlled sandwich bags!! Oh, and of course there was the incident when large whale pebbles never filled your sneakers when you weren’t hiding in the ocean during that one time that never happened!!

Of Course!!

Now I’m afraid I need to call the LAWYERS!! Yes!! You see, I woke up the other day (or was it night??) to discover sawdust flying from the rafters in our attic. When I went to investigate, I noticed that the landscape business next door had chopped away the side of our house to make a storage area for their weed whackers and assorted metal cylinders. I asked Nini what the HECK happened, and she just looked at the ground and mumbled, “um… they needed the room or something.” So I told her we needed to call the LAWYERS. Yes. Just before that I was riding around the hills in some sort of crazy tube thing. It was fun but I really had no control over where I was going so that was a bit weird.

Then I woke up FOR REAL, and remembered that we had pizza with ham, salami, pepperoni, sausage, and golf balls (OK, maybe no golf balls) for dinner that night; and eating that much processed meat often gives me very strange dreams. This is a true thing you see. And the dream seemed pretty real too. No foolin’. I call dreams like that “free movies.”

Speaking of movies, have you seen that one movie where those people were doing things in a place? And they talked to each other and also wore interesting costumes? Sometimes they were running around yelling, and other times they were very quiet except for the burping. I think the name of the movie was… um… OK I don’t remember. Perhaps you know it. Was that one cool or what?? I’m gonna make me a movie some day. I believe it will be “Mighty Mouse Meets Godzilla.” Rather than fighting, they become friends and team up to educate squid and also give teenage dung beetles the ability to find really good poop. A movie like that will likely become a franchise. I’ll be RICH I tell you!!!

Or maybe I’ll just be Papa.

My dear Grandsons, I really must inform you that when I write a letter like this, it comes from inside my socks which should really have been put in the laundry many days ago. Nobody likes bad odor in the foot area; and I am really tired of Freddy the Freeloader crinkling his eyes and calling me “Mr. Stinky Toes.” Tomorrow I’m going to try to recycle some old milk that is starting to smell badly. I believe if I put it in the washing machine with Mr. Monkey’s Milk Mender Solution it will make a really big mess and Nini will send me to the garage with a bag of old staple guns.

Alright then. I must away to the Interwebs to find for you a cartoon that is both nutritious and easily melted into a pleasant but invisible fire extinguisher. We Love You and may your nostrils never be filled with TV antennas.

Peace, Love and Social Distancing Hugs,

Papa (me)

When Silly Jumps Out

Dear Snail Dance Participants,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

9x)  I sure do love those Reese’s Easter Egg Candy Things you can get at the store right now.

One thing I’ve learned during my 66 trips around the Sun is that people would really much rather be happy than sad. Therefore, I have tried my best to spread smiling on the walls of peoples toenails (and shoe horns) whenever the dog manure jumps out of the spider webs. Sometimes I tell a joke. Sometimes I make a silly face. Sometimes I dash into the kitchen and whip up some roasted kitty dander with a nice garnish of avocado pit puree. Usually by Sometimes number 3 my friends have quietly left the building and I don’t have to worry about them being sad, at least not around me.

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

Sincerely Yours,

Hyram C. Gilmore

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

An Open Letter To Saggy Hands And All Other Tongue Owners

Dear Saggy Hands,

In the interest of Corona Oh No, I’ve claimed a small part of the planet and have renamed it to suit my dog’s knees. It’s a quaint little place with hot and cold running wildly; and although clams are rarely served with dessert we could probably order out and enjoy the Mange of La Muncha while throwing fluffy red sculptures toward the full moon. In My New Country, of which I alone am In Charge; nothing will ever be achieved without the express permission of the Zagnut Flinging Champions and their two children, Smeeb and Grackzample.

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

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

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

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

Yours in Seven Dimensions,

Grelben “Stinky Pores” Zortenfloom

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

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

Foogly’s Fribbly Travels

When grandsons come to visit, they get to choose what I write for “Happy Friday!!!” When I asked what the title for this 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 17th 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 museam 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

Isthmus Be My Lucky Day

I’m telling you right now, I just have been sick up and fed lately and nobody can help it but me. The space between my ears has been clouded with moldy plum sugar, and my eyes have twitched radically while small animals sing “On Top of Old Smokey.” What I’m trying to say is, work has been stressful, and in my professional opinion, nothing cures a good ham like nonsensical pine with gently simmered nuclear fossil wagons.

Life of a computer geek can be… um… well… similar to bent plastic spoons in a 40 pound tub of month old gravy. Terrible things occur at my work place that should really not happen to a gentle soul like me. Expensive parts vanish in thin air when on their way from the shipping dock to my office. People call me and cry because their favorite program is gone. People also sing of sadness when the network is not working. I have phone calls right here on this page that prove this:

“Hi Ken, this is Merm. I signed on to my computer this morning and my FronkleZoolik was gone! The icon was there yesterday… I just don’t know what happened to it!”

“Hmmm…” I reply, pretending to be amazed. “Did you look in your recycle bin??” My caller pauses a bit, then says, “I don’t have that on here.”

“Well,” I reply again some more, “try closing all your programs and see if your recycle bin is there.” Then the wonderful soul on the other end pauses a bit, and says, “oh there it is!! And wow, my FronkleZoolik is right there… thanks, Ken!!”

On the other hand, I get the happy folks who call and leave me voicemail in this manner: “Hi Ken. I think need an IP address or something for this… compute… errrrr… um nevermind! It’s working now!” I wanted to tell him that the bathroom is not at a separate address, but inside the building down the hall. Dunno about him, but when IP, I go to the nearest vestibule. Be sure to wash your teeth and brush your hands when done tinkling (or doo-doodling)!!

These are lovely events, however, because they make me smile in the midst of my run like a chicken with no marshmallows kind of day. I’ve known for many galloobs that this line of work can make your drivly-griks raw from too much noofling, but the particular job I’m doing now is the biggest one I’ve ever had. I’ve also snaveled in the harsh universe of family relationship ouchiness. So, a silly granule of self-rising toe jam is just what the doctor ordered to be mailed to Uzbekistan. I need to inflate both my gratitude and my sense of humus regularly, or I begin to take all this life stuff way too seriously, and frankly, that just ain’t no any so good.

Wonk, wonk, wonk the little bugmonsters utter new and exciting versions of the Spar Strangled Banana. Now that lumps of freshly scented soap have been discovered in Pilmus, New Voolia, we can all rest assured that nothing useful is being done to increase the life cycle of the lowly portable tuba wrench. After all, when I have a burrito for lunch and my coworkers run in fear for their noses, well, that’s a very special time indeed. Often, my dog has brought nose pollution to the home. I believe this is a direct result of the Double Barf Burger with cheese I bought for him at the drive up window at 7:37 p.m. We never commend him for producing brown air, but instead we scream and spray 89% Freshener Surprise into the neighboring air molecules.

So my friends, only so much nimble doony can be flung through the doors of coagulation at any given time. I will leave you now with the best philosophical happy time thought I can muster under such extreme duress. WHAT’S FIXIN’ TO FOLLOW THIS IS NOT FICTION OR NONSENSE, BUT A REAL-LIFE EXPERIENCE I HAD WHILE WATCHING TV MANY YARGONS AGO. If I cling to this attitude, I know nothing can get me down, for although I cry and whine at times, I REALLY AM GREATFUL FOR LIFE, THE UNIVERSE, AND EVERYTHING.

OK then, on with the phisopholy: there I was, minding my own business, watching the TV, when the Little Rascals came on and Pappy was assuming the role of school teacher for all the Gang at the Boarding School. He asked many of the class various important questions, which they answered in a most delightful manner. One of the kid’s name was Uh-Huh, and he was asked to use a sentence with the word “isthmus” in it. His answer is the best possible attitude I can carry with me at any given time:

“Isthmus be my lucky day!”

And you know, I’m a pretty fortunate bilge flattener. I need to try to stay positive, and focus on gratitude as my attitude. This and some requests for a little help from my friends will get me through these dark purple animal cracker explosions.

I must now shout that I’m grateful that you are just being who you are. I’m very glad that you are, because if you weren’t, I wouldn’t know you, and holy moly you are important to me. Whoever you are…

Please, always remember that it’s better to be you than for you to be me; and although you can count to it, eight is a word.

Thank you, and good night Melvin!!

One way I might feel better is to make a little bird house in my soul…