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…

Electronic Refractions And Mandatory Recycling Procedures

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 73rd 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.

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 this has NOTHING to do with ANYTHING but it was fun for me. Hopefully for you too…

A Friendly Letter To Lorveltran

Dear Perglezookeys,

Please don’t spread the word, but as I have already alerted some of my comrades, 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. 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 would anyone 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. 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…

Three Years, Eleven Months, Twenty Days

Once Upon A Time, I Used Capital Letters With No Regard For Proper Nouns. That’s Because If I Want To Mix It Up, I ShaLL, and NoBody CaN StoP Me; NoT EveN The GRAMMAR PATROL. So I plunk about on my merry Way, now too Lazy to Capitalize Every stinking word, because I am in control of the keyboard, not you or any other dust sniffing, flexible, purple and lavender Irish TV sales representative who of course would find it very amusing indeed to spill bean soup on your brand new sock drawer and what have we here now it sure looks like a large chocolate bar with almonds which just happens to be my favorite kind especially when I shave with it during all those silly bread movies that never arrive in a theater near you.

Also, I had my annual physical exam today.

The doctor told me, “your blood pressure should not be this high… it’s 738 over 485 you know. If you don’t stop trying to inflate your nostrils by blowing so hard, you could lose your navel from capillary kaboom!!” She also warned me that maybe my job might be causing me too much stress. I said, “nah, I really don’t mind working in the noodle toss machine. It’s good money, and once in awhile they let me catch a noodle or two. Otherwise, I have to twirl around and allow the semi-soft noodles to coat my shirt and make a noodle coat, the likes of which you’ve never chewed. It’s very crinkly and barky bazoo. ”

“But you only have your health once,” she said, grimacing. “You and your wife have skills… you can take them almost anywhere. You don’t necessarily want stress to cause your eyeballs to migrate to Albania.” I told her that now that I’m very very VERY old, I only have Three Years, 11 Months, 20 Days left to retire. She thinks maybe I should think about maybe taking my skills to maybe a place that maybe has a lower stress level. She’s also very aware that my Beautiful Girlfriend (a.k.a. my Lovely Wife) is an accomplished maker of finely crafted toothpick animals. People come from miles around to see her life sized models of Brontosaurus Rex and Tyrannosaurus Anteaters. Sometimes she even peels the noodles off me when I get home from work and does wonders in the art of noodleskins.

As I was basking in the glory of my Beautiful Honey Pie’s Animanoodles, the doctor resumed the exam and started with that stupid skin shovel. Oooohhh I do hate that thing!!! She runs from one side of the room and clobbers me with the shovel to get her samples. Fortunately it’s only a few millimeters wide but nearly 7 feet long. She has a small wheelbarrow off to the side with little slots to keep other patients’ skin samples separate from mine. Finally she takes a large whisk and twirls them all about, carefully but indiscriminately mixing all the different samples. Whoever has the strongest DNA will enjoy an exquisite coating of aged cheddar cheese on the back of their neck.

For nearly 7 weeks running I have been called Mr. Cheese Neck by her staff… a title I proudly boast to my friends in the Noodle Tossers Fraternity Of Lower Puffington. They are all truly fascinated by the snorking noise one makes when adorned with Cheese Neck Holy Moly.

Some of you who may actually have read this far may snicker at my propensity for verbicide. Well, I already knew what propensity was but never heard of verbicide before until today. I guess one could say I have verbicidal tendencies. Or even worse, one could say I have vertical tentacles!!! They stick up out of my head bone!! It’s very embarrassing when I try to go through a low doorway and my tentacles try to hang on to the wall places!! They do help me keep my hat on during a stiff breeze, though.

Holy COW I’m glad it’s Friday.

How about a cartoon now?  OK?  OK!!

Important Notice: Upcoming Inspections

Note:  This notice has been circulated to everyone who has pockets, pocket books, mailboxes, or ice in their driveway.  Please read carefully and follow the instructions.

My Fellow Associates,

In these uncertain economic times we must strive to defeat the competition both before and after they are finished watching their favorite movies and / or cooking programs. Therefore, it is with great implosion that I urge all of you to apply an exorbitant amount of effort toward our long discontinued standard of excellence.

In striving toward the spirit of this year’s successful yet spiritually degrading development plan, we are rolling out what we believe is an innovative approach to corporate indecency with our new motto: Strength Through Costly Mistakes, or STCM.

To facilitate Phase 1 of this plan, Zelden Bilgehammer of Quality Infusions, Inc. will be arriving soon to inspect the cambernackles. Please ensure that all edible click wrapper standards are well concealed and thoroughly hyphenated before Zelden’s infestation.

During this exercise, please note that cambernackles will heretofore be inspected on the 3rd Tuesday of each week, twice monthly, with liberty and justice for all. This information may be shared freely with any and all individuals whose names rhyme with “lumberjack,” as they would appear when divided by the pertinent day of the month.

For example: on the 1st Tuesday of 2019, the week begins with the letter R. It follows then, that you may share this with people like:

Rudence Cumberjack

Rumby Cambersnorck

Royven Snanderjunk

And of course Roopy Wofflenick.

Note that the inverse modification standard never applies. None of these stick flingers are employed at this time, so sharing the inflammation can only enhance our deprivation protocol.

If you have any questions regarding this modulation, please insert two nickles and eleven dimes. After all, your toaster is probably orange with chrome crumb fenders.

Thank you in advance for your cooperation in this urgent flea popping contest.

Sincerely,

Norvis Pimpleburger
Chief Inspection Officer
Feline Antler Fabrication Dept.

“If you want something done, don’t remove the cat’s antlers.” – Milton Wildpockets

——————————————————————–

On the other hand, we could just make with the jumpin’ jive and swing it!!

Moist Ditches And Windshield Wipers

When work 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 10th 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 conferences.

Yours In Deep Sleep,

Melbert “Whippy” Goatfinder

And now for the REAL taste test…  I would like a job like what these gents have please.

Of Utmost Importance: My Holiday Requirements for 2015

Dear Beautiful Everyone,

In keeping with my very own tradition which I have started all by myself on this blog thing; I’d like to ring in the shiny new 2015 Holiday Season with a reminder to you all that the time has once again arrived again once more, yet again and it’s like here already; even though I’ve truly overused the workd “again” in this run-on silly sentence that really only needed to again remind you that this is the time of year with the Ho Ho Ho and the Randolph the Rude Nosed Rain Deer and Frosty the Snotman and of course the Commercials and the Holiday Flatulence Delays during my cat’s friend’s Tree Lighting Matrimony.

In other words, Happy Holiday Season to All Of You, Wherever You Are. And yes, that Right noW I Know I Am capitalizinG words InCoRrEctly but I simplY do that FoR thE fUn of it.

Sew Their.

As many of you may know, it’s around this time that I deliver my Holiday Requirements List For All Humans To Embrace Fully And Without Question. Sure, I’m an old hippie who grew up during the ’60s and have often been dismayed by what seems to be worldwide greed and disparity. However, in my own case of being completely silly and with the full intent of sending a smile or two; I hereby place into print the items I require as gifts for this year.

Actually, I don’t need anything. I’ve been blessed beyond measure with a nice home, a Beautiful Girlfriend who actually allowed me to marry her some years ago, and a beautiful family who are both near and far. However: Please note, that although I’m very grateful for everything I have and (for the most part) everyone I know; I still need more stuff and I want you to go get it for me now or perhaps yesterday or the day before. OK? I mean hey, I don’t wanna get nasty or nuttin’ wit you. Just get da stuff like I ask fer it.

Got it?

Good!!

So without delay, here is MY LIST OF HOLIDAY REQUIREMENTS FOR 2015:

A*) Please get 3 of the 17 Liter containers of Uncle Zelnish’s Concrete Polish. I’ve been buffing our sidewalk and driveway for quite some time now and can’t seem to get them shiny.

4n) I need another 7 lbs. of Marvel Mystery Raisin Skin Kaboom. It’s an awesome addition to sauces and also pretty darn good for tire repair. I used every last ounce I had last year, and now I can’t for the life of my find my flashlight or my Swiss Army knife.

c12) For my reading enjoyment, I’ll need an autographed copy of “How To Tell Your Best Friend’s Friend They Have A Booger,” by Dr. Hamilton “Sheila“ Snorkhammer.

x9) I’ve always needed some toenail growth regulators. I really dislike clipping my toenails, especially the ones on the Big Toe. I think there are research quality toenail toasters out there that inhibit fleas. Maybe those will work.

7!) Wow, remember those Zagnut candy bars we used to get when we were kids? I found out those are REALLY GOOD with coffee!! They have them at Cracker Barrel!! Don’t buy me any of those. Instead, just follow me around for a year or so and buy my meal when I go to Cracker Barrel. OK? Yes, and take care of the tip too if you don’t mind. I usually tip on a scale of 133 cents for every dollar spent on the meal; especially when someone else is footing the bill. Please don’t forget that part. That’s fine, thank you.

And finally…

V3) If you call ahead I’ll be very OK with you coming over and cooking up some fried chicken. Holy Moly I love that stuff. Sure, you could cheat and say you are cooking and then drop some Meijer and / or Plumbs fried chicken into a hot pan when I’m not looking. In my professional opinion, Meijer and Plumbs make some of the Best Fried Chicken In The West Michigan Universe. If you accidentally brought some over; this would cause me to salivate profusely and I might even invite you to stay and help me eat it. Maybe.

In the meantime, please tell your friends and family you love them. Or at the very least, show them you love them. You can do that with a smile, a hug, or by simply being kind. Be nice to a stranger. Sing out loud for happy. If you can’t sing, try whistling. Or something. Something good. Be willing to show whoever you may see that in spite of all the bad we hear about the world, there really is quite a lot of good stuff going on.

There really is you know.

Peace and Love to You All.

In case you were wondering, this is how all the stuff gets put together and prepared for delivery.

Zagnut Explosions

There are times when I want to roll on the floor with my tongue flapping in the breeze, all the while flailing my arms and legs about as if I my pants were on fire; but if you heard me say this you would probably know that I may be fooling and then you could chant “liar liar pants on fire nose as long as a telephone wire” with that silly singing voice you have and then of course I’d confess that you’re correct and my pants might actually catch fire because I was fooling the whole time.

Breathe… breathe…

OK, it’s like this, awright?? I just had to pay for car insurance. I would really rather buy candy or maybe a doughnut or something. Do you think you can use doughnuts to pay for car insurance? Or can candy be converted into fuel for small jet packs that do little more than disrupt public speakers and / or eggplant processing machines?

I’d really like to know where my flashlight is.

How much more work stuff do I really need to endure, I ask you? Don’t they know that I’d rather have them just hand me the money and say “thank you for being” and just let me be?? NOOoooo… they actually expect me to perform tasks like remove cheese particles from USB ports and, please excuse my use of rough language, but at times I’m actually expected to work for my money!!! And I have absolutely no idea why I’m using both bold and italics for no apparent reason!! And enough with the superfluous exclamation points awreddy!!!!!!!

Breathe… breathe…

Yes, yes, I know full well that there’s no free lunch, you don’t get something for nothing, a penny saved is a penny earned, a stitch in time saves nine, and you can’t milk a goat with a Crescent wrench. After all, nobody would be rushing to the farmers market to buy wrench cheese stitched with nine pennies for lunch or nothing. No, these are difficult times, so every free something is either saved or earned, and in time I’m pretty sure we’ll find out that goes for all nine of them. Harvey Ticknoodle would be rather annoyed at all this falderal and its associated fiddle dee dee; therefore I implore you not to implode while trying to get those last molecules of milkshake out of the spark plug sockets.

Please, please quit reaching for my Zagnut. You know how doggoned good those are with coffee… mmmm coffee… cream and sugar please… no… honey. No I didn’t call you Honey. Well OK you’re pretty nice but I’m not that kind of Zagnutarian. I just like honey in my coffee instead of sugar. OK Honey?? And if you don’t believe me, just try a Zagnut with your coffeed honey and cream surprise leverage beverage.

While eating the coffee and drinking the Zagnut, nothing in this world will bother you for the entire 12 microseconds it takes for a hummingbird to sing “Oh What A Beautiful Flower Drink” during the last 12 innings of the World Series. That completely unfamiliar Zagnut aroma flavor will cause a sensory explosion the likes of which you’ll never scream to the Sheriff’s Office. You’ll feel refreshed, and of course you’ll be thoroughly Zagged. Only a Nut would deny this delicious cloud softening cable the chance to tinkle on the tastebud tours of Flampington, Indiana.

Well it’s finally a weekend. Thank goodness. Thought I was gonna have to get silly there for a minute.

A Snibbulous Rant

Hello fellow peace loving creatures. Don’t know about you, but my week has been saturated with very crankular work challenges. It’s bad enough I didn’t win the lottery; mainly because I never played. But in addition to that hugely caripular disappointment; other things in my outside-of-work world have been bonking me in the noggin with large, monstrificous ouch hurtings. To quote some poet guy I never knew (nor ever quoted correctly):

Too much to do,

And not enough time,

Makes a man smelly,

Cranky and whine.

Please know, however, that I am very aware that not only was that a very bad (or perhaps nonexistent) rhyme; my woes are in all respects what me and my friends often call “high class problems.” In other words: I am a healthy young man, I have a nice home, a beautiful girlfriend (who actually let me marry her!!), we own cars that are paid off and actually work, we have plenty to eat, we have food in the garden we’re gonna eat later, and of course we have electricity that powers our stuff and lets us play musics and make coffee and other important foods and even sometimes we use our TV to watch important, spiritually uplifting programming like Big Bang Theory and NCIS, and we also have friends whom we love dearly, and in addition to all that, I have not used one single semi-colon in this run-on sentence and I’m not even sure that matters but holy cow this was a really long one; (oops, a semi-colon just crept in there) and the whole point of all this is:

If I keep a grateful heart

I’ll be much less likely to fart

On the surface of my blessings

Because I’m one lucky, lucky guy.

Yet another very bad rhyming thing there. I really am lucky you know. So why am I whining?? Because I’m human I guess. And because I had a weak moment so I put a quarter in the Peanut M&M twisty machine thing at work and got a really nice handful of goodies, then I put another quarter in there with the silly notion that I’d get another really nice handful of goodies but something went wrong and I got one single lousy Peanut M&M for my 2nd quarter, at which time I sprayed the contents of my mouth into the air and when the spit covered candy fragments came raining down I looked up and got nailed by each and every one in my eyeballs and nostrils and eyebrow hair and even my ears; at which time I rolled around on the dirty shop floor and thrashed my arms and legs about while yelling at the top of my lungs, “HOLY SNARKFARB I’M REALLY NOT VERY HAPPY NOW!!” And then my fine coworkers took turns throwing cups of flavored water into my shoes to try to calm me down. Little did they know that my toes are really small sponges that thrive on moisture flavors!!

Well OK maybe not.

Life is good really. No, seriously, life is very good. 4 years, 4 months, and 29 days till retirement; but who’s counting??

May I have more candy please?

Culture Change And A Rented Blanex

Are any of you aware of the indecent carbonation that is rejuvenated at my work place? Oh yes, we are in the midst of a culture change. Our e-mail is changing from the old clothespins-keeping-paper-on-the-line-with-the-pulleys to imaginary cloud based compost deliveries. I’m sure none of you are able to lock your tongue in the freezer; so please bare with me (or remain clothed) while I let off some nonsense in the form of steam.

You see, we really are making a big giant change at work, and it involves those computer things, and I am a Qualified Computer Flunky (QCF), so of course I will be getting many calls and will respond with great vinegar to the poor souls who are being pushed into a Brand New Way (BNW) of computerization, which of course is not a word but what the heck all this technology stuff is imaginary anyway (or so it would seem) and whether one likes it or not this run-on sentence may be somewhat intelligible but is probably poorly punctuated and that of course is absolutely of no concern to the likes of ME.

I rented a Blanex over the 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.

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.

Please, I beseech of you: Wonkle like you’ve never Wonkled before. That will show them!! If you find yourself hungry, please forget to remember that I find deep fried owl toes a most enjoyable snack while driving heavy whipping cream through the vegetable cemetery. If you do not find yourself at all, a nap may be in order. If you do not fit in either catalog, it’s likely time for you to be shamed by the famous Shrieking Sassafras Santa’s Helper.

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 pleeb!!

OK, that’s probably quite enough shame for one year or so. Just remember what COULD have happened.

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(?)