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 inside-the-house 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 Saturday Night Live 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. You see, our house is pretty much topsy-turvy right now. Topsy-turvy… now there’s an expression you don’t see every day, right? Please don’t confuse this with hunky-dory or especially pinkly-winkly, which may not even be a thing. What I’m trying to say that because of our high-class problems, our home is in great disarray.

Why, you may wonder, is this topsy-turvy disarray affecting our pinkly-winklies in such a painful manner? Well you see, it’s like this: we had the good fortune to spend some money on the innards of our house. Some very good painters came to do their thing, and that meant that we had to remove much furniture and bric-a-brac and even stuff we never knew we had from the room so they could work. And to add ink spots to ingenuity, we also decided to have new carpet installed. The result of these Spoiled American decisions was the “storage” of bookcases, shelving, electronic doohickeys, books, and all manner of possessions anywhere they could fit in other rooms. Walking through the resulting maze has become rather, um… interesting.

Then of course comes the “whatever pleases you my dear” conundrum. In other words, I’m a guy, OK? No, I really mean it. And my Beautiful Girlfriend is a woman. And because I’m a guy, my give-a-hoot about interior decorating is limited to the precise placement of stereo speakers. You know, important stuff. Well this Amazing Woman of mine has decided that this bookcase needs to go, and that armoire needs to have its head chopped off and reattached a few feet lower to accommodate a large screen TV to be mounted on the wall. So I get my saw and my hammer and drill thing and BLS (Big Long Screws) and commence to hacking and scraping and drilling and putting in the screws and OUCH my finger holy moly watch out for that sharpness oh crap I’m bleeding go get a Band Aid and back to work and what the HECK?? The stupid pull chain on the ceiling fan light bit the dust so now it’s the happy enjoyment of taking the thing apart to replace the switch and CAN I PLEASE GO HOME NOW I DON’T WANNA PLAY ANYMORE but oh wait, I’m already home but I’ll sure be glad when it’s all done and we can sit back and enjoy some leisure time of snarfing potato chips and drinking apple juice.

But guess what?? NONE of this stuff is a problem, really. We get to have our house painted and carpeted. We get to have too much stuff to move around. As I said before, we have a nice home with no bombs exploding or invaders invading. We are, in short, very, very grateful. Hope life is good at your house.

I think I’ll end this snibbulous rant with just one more poem, the theme of which has no bearing on any aforementioned anything, but it might make you smile:

Wally

Bring your friends to Wally’s house

Because he’s really Super Mouse.

He fell down twice and did not break,

And he can swallow half a lake.

He always eats his super cheese,

But now he’s getting Super Fleas.

The End

And now for some fun that also happens to be set to music.

How does one define the word “normal?” Anyway? I suppose it depends on who you ask. I mean, something as simple as wearing underwear might be considered normal by most folks. Then of course there are those who don’t find that normal at all. There are so many ways to interpret what “normal” is, that some (including me) have embraced the statement that normal is simply a cycle on the washing machine.

Why would I even want to go there? Writing about what’s normal I mean. Well, my Beautiful Girlfriend forced me to do it with a funny quip she made about dinner the other day. We were settling in for the evening; all our chores completed, and it was time to enjoy an elegant dinner of burritos from Taco Bell. My Lovely Bride looked at me with her beautiful eyes and said, “Let’s go to the bedroom, watch TV and eat our dinner like normal people.” “Like normal people, huh??” I snickered.

That gave both of us a nice chuckle. And yes we did enjoy our gourmet burritos in bed while we watched a Marvel movie with surround sound. Why do we have surround sound in the bedroom? Because that’s what my Honey Pie wanted. And I have to say it’s pretty nice to chill out all comfy and enjoy movie house quality sound in the comfort of your own… um… bedroom. And yes, we have surround sound in the living room too.

Are we spoiled or what??

Now I must ask: it’s normal for people to enjoy bad breath sandwiches, right? You know, some nice deli rye slathered in mayo with some chopped onion and a can of King Oscar sardines in tomato sauce layered nicely on there. Then snarf it down and go looking for your sweetie for a nice kiss. My wife just loves that ya know! Oh wait!!! No, she does NOT. No smooching till the teeth are brushed!!

Oh, and is it normal to buy a tool (or something) because you can’t find the one you know you have?? Gotta have that metric adjustable wrench today, right?? How else can I loosen the fronkulator on the bilateral mizzlepop and make sure it twinkles correctly before the warranty expires?? So off we go to the hardware store, buy an adjustable metric wrench for $18.95; and I’m told “You’re lucky!! You got the last one and oh, by the way, it costs more because it’s metric.” Then I learn that these are often called Crescent wrenches and they work for any standard because hey, they’re adjustable!! Well OK I already knew that; it’s just fun to be silly. Of course, I have indeed purchased a tool or other thing-a-ma-bob over the years because I needed the one I was sure I had, but could not find it for love nor money. So I go buy a new one (oh wait, that’s money!); and about halfway through the project while I’m rummaging through the tools I find the missing domaflochy that I had all along.

So is it normal for the pizza to change colors while the oven is turned off, then start howling when the preheat is finished and the oven door is open?? Then when I go to put it on the oven rack all these little colored flags pop up with exclamations like “No!!” “Ouch!!” “Hot!!” “LEAVE ME ALONE!!” And then the mouse with driving cap and sunglasses in the little sports car starts ramming my ankles and shouting obscenities (I think) in Swahili or something while beeping his horn. Phone rings, I slide my hand too close to the rack, ouch that hurts, it’s someone who wants to extend my car’s warranty and the refrigerator is beeping again and confetti is gushing out of the ice maker and why in the HECK is the motor oil in the vegetable drawer??

Oh wait… just a dream.

Was that a normal dream? Or should I just enjoy that cycle on the washing machine?

This might be an interesting dream…

Some of you may be aware that this Monday brings a celebration day for Peace, Love, and Harmony. And yes, of course I’m talking about Valentine’s Day. I firmly believe that February 14 is not a day to be celebrated only by lovers. The spirit of the day should be shared with everyone, because hey, “What The World Needs Now Is Love;” and yes, the Dionne Warwick reference is definitely intended.

At our house, Valentine’s Day has always been very warm and fuzzy; dripping with honey globs and covered with chocolate mixed with assorted deliciousness accompanied by some hugging and maybe some smooching and perhaps some none-of-your-business. We usually enjoy a special treat for dinner. You know, stuff like steak on the half shell or maybe lobster toenails served on a crispy bed of burnt popcorn. Our palates will then be delicately washed with a nice glass of alcohol free sparkling orange & tomato juice with a healthy dollop of cinnamon baked oatmeal floating on top. Often we like to have some candy, and since we’ve been very careful with our sugar intake this year we went to The Lakeside Emporium (← click the link to their store) (I double-D dare ya) (yes, I like to put too many things in parentheses) for a rare treat. Each of us selected enough delicious morsels to fill a 40 pound container. It’s also possible that we limited our selections to 12 candies each. Yesterday, while she was at work, I stopped at our old favorite, the White Lake Greenhouse (← another link!!) and picked out a nice bouquet of the customary flowers which will be hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that Saint Valentine soon will be there.

Since Covid, we’ve been enjoying movies quite a bit in the comfort of our own home. I must confess, when my Beautiful Girlfriend requested that I install surround sound in our bedroom all those years ago, I brooped and merfled at the idea. Now of course we very much enjoy chilling out with our HUGE 32 inch flat screen TV (the best size to fit in the cabinet she wanted) and full surround audio from a nice Pioneer system. I’m hoping my Lovely Bride will agree to an action flick this time. Perhaps something like the Saskatchewan Chainsaw Massacre… it’s like the one in Texas but colder and more polite. Of course she may want to watch one of those romantic classics like Guess Which Vampire Is Coming To Dinner; that one’s a mixture of passion and her love for vampire movies. Who knows… maybe we’ll settle for an old Buster Keaton movie and some cartoons.

After the movie, as has always (never) been the case in previous years, I will serenade my Sweetheart by yodeling Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody” and then Devo’s “Time Out For Fun” in their entirety. I’ll probably be yodeling vociferously while painting my eyebrows with neon green hi-lighter to increase her arousal. The serenade is preceded by my newly discovered trick of getting lollipops to stick to my cheeks after a few licks. Yep, just get them a bit moist on one side, then press and hold for approximately 5 minutes. The result will likely put a big smile on her face, especially as my neon green eyebrows dance seductively while the lollipop sticks hop to the yodel-wiggles while I belt out the tunes.

As you can see, I really know how to show my Darling Honey Pie a good time on Valentine’s Day. My sincere hope for all of you is that you give and / or receive love on the upcoming Special Day; but please do not stop there. What the world really does need, is Love, Sweet Love; so please spread it far and wide, each and every day of the year. Even something small like telling a retail worker “Thank You” is a nice way to spread the love.

And if they don’t seem moved, you can always offer to yodel for them.

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…

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?

Dear Burgerbakers,

It seems like there was a ferocious calcification during much of December, and then there were holidays. They are looming large on the horizon now, but I certainly hope all of you will enjoy the holidays as much as we will. I’ll spend many hours licking the Christmas tree. Often our family will reinvent clothing while sleeping in the snowy ditch that does not even come close to our driveway. Our sump pump drains in there. Every time I would begin to dream of krumkaka, water would bloosh its way into my hair and nostril regions. Needless to say, I have developed a twervous nitch what haves defected my typinggn.

A flock of camels came to our garage and we asked them politely. To stop eating my tools, someone had to go up on the roof and yell with a ferocious growl. No, I didn’t. Mess up that sentence! Mess it up I tell you!! Do you think that just because Santa brought you the brand new macaroni flusher that you have the indecent formula for pie with no armpits? Well I’m here to tell you, that type of attitude will get you into concerts for free.

Actually, the Maine reason I am writing to you is because all of you are who you are, and I am not who you are. This is very good for me, as I am already plenty confused without trying to learn to navigate in all of your houses. Especially when the lights are off and the dog is eating the cat food and hey you please get out of the litter box oh gack you’re eating those stupid cat Tootsie Rolls again.

Oh wait.

That’s what used to happen at my house!!

Oh those were the days when Musky Da Husky’s appetite was not quite satisfied. He’d come out of the utility room, licking his chops. Then I look into his beautiful brown eyes and he looks back as if to say, “What??” At this time I’m pretty sure he’s been having hors d’ouvres from the kitty box. Then, he’ll turn around very nonchalantly and go right back in there, at which time I say very vigorously, “Git outta the poopie box you stupid dog!! NO!!! NO KISSING ME!!! arrrrgggghhhh  Get away with the kaka breath awreddy!! Oh, and ummm… you have litter particles on your nose. Ha ha, I laugh to you!!”  He eventually quit enjoying cat logs; and we miss him terribly.

OK. For real now, I really am truly writing to all of you out there because each and everyone of you are special, and that’s very special to me. So I’m especially writing to wish you all A Happy Merry And Joyful Wonderful; and please don’t leave my mud custard in the basket of fried onion seeds.

I’m very much allowed to write all this because we have get to have more than one “Christmas” to celebrate with twinkling earlobes this year.  After all the sell abrasives, we can use the chainsaw to fizzle the brand new naturally flavored artificial Christmas tree with Liberty and Justice for All.

But none of this is your fault. If it was, I would feel no need to reprimand you for that silly incident with the very loud flatulence last Tuesday in the grocery store.

So as you can see, I’m in real need of pickled herring resistance. Please send lots of money and an oversized piece of rare cheese to:

Amblenern Frammizackton
45U7 Odor Oh No
Gibbik, Larbonia 29&z1

Thanks, and may all your tweezers function properly.

Gibble Dee Boo,

Ken Arbelgarben
a.k.a. Mr. Toast-On-A-Stick

P.S.:  Peace, Love, and Hugs to You ALL!!

And now for one of our very favorite cartoons for this time of year.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gOIkxCh0y0U

Holy Moly, it’s that time of year again awready!! Time to light the mistletoe, hang the eggnog, and trim the Holiday Picker Bushes with multicolored shredded aluminum foil and LED soapsuds lights. Yes, I can already hear the neighbors’ chickens cackling with delight as they forage in my wife’s flower gardens.

If you have read this silly blog over time, you’ll also know that all the upcoming festivities are all true signs that The Season Of Giving Ken Wonderful Presents is upon us. Yes folks, it’s that time again; when I list a set of “suggestions” for gifts that I had better receive. Please keep in mind that, as always, I’m very aware that you need to take care of your family and closest friends first. However, I must also stress the importance of me receiving each and every thing I ask for from Santa; because hey, I’m sure you don’t want to watch me crying in the corner while I drown my sorrows with multiple jars of pickled herring while our cat Fred rolls around in the catnip I tossed all over the floor during my extreme anquish and OH MY GOSH WHEN MY WIFE SEES THE MESS SHE WILL BE ANNOYED and well, you know, I think the consequences of me not getting everything I demand will be very much like forcing people to read a run-on sentence out loud without taking a breath or even getting a potty break but I would never force anyone to do anything; but perhaps you could just nod your head and pat my shoulder and say something accommodating like, “we’ll see what we can do, you spoiled little punk.”

So without further ado I hereby present to you my List of Holiday Requirements for 2021.

1. I am in dire need of a R.C.C.B.O.R. I think you can still get kits for those at Radio Shack. Just ask Melvin about whether she got any Remote Control Clutter Bomb Organizing Robot kits. I believe they sell for the rock bottom price of $14.38 and are on sale until Saturday, December 34. You may wonder what purpose such a robot serves. Well you see, someone detonated a clutter bomb in my garage; and since the mess is overwhelming I am convinced that only a remote control mechanical lobster (or perhaps octopus) robot can work on it. Please make acquiring this your top priority.

R. I could really use a replacement Kandy Klobarn KOVID Prevention Kit. Of course, my wife and I follow the science and have been vaccinated and even boosted. We mask up in public and sanitize or wash our hands regularly. But that extra protection in the Kandy Klobarn KOVID Prevention Kit just gives me extra peace of mind. Good old Kandy Klobarn… he really knows how to uplift a person’s spirits in these stressful times. I follow the directions closely, but I’m running out of eyebrow mustard and vinegar scented ear candles. My wife is not really in favor of me running around with crusty yellow eyebrows, and she makes sure she is upwind when I light the ear candles; but she keeps reassuring me by patting my shoulder and saying “it’s OK babe, I still love you.”

2X. Who stole my anchovy and banana sandwich??? Darn it!! I had it here on the counter and now it’s gone!! I was looking forward to munching on it with a nice tall glass of lizard milk while watching that new series “Compost Wars” on Nutflex. Oh wait… oh jeez… yep!! I stashed it in my sock drawer again. Hey, I don’t want anyone stealing my snacks!!

&!. You may not believe this, but you know that Universal Translator you never bought me last year? Well guess what: it fell in the toilet again. The first time this happened it was no big deal, it just sounded a little gargly. But now when I ask it to translate the Crognovian greeting, “may your knees never clunk the spikes of my snow tires,” the Universal Toilet Translator is almost unintelligible while saying with a raspy, gurgling voice, “maybe your trees river dunk Ike’s no wires.” As you can imagine, this would be very embarrassing in a social gathering. Please make this one your top priority. What?? I said that for item 1 ?? Umm… oh.

6K. Oh, please, don’t forget this one: I need some new toothbrush varnish. I’m almost out you see, and I don’t want my toothbrush to lose its luster and shine when guests first come in the door and wipe their feet off on it. I mean, how can I keep dirt particles out of my mouth after that?? I’ll tell you how: toothbrush varnish. That’s how.

Well folks, that should suffice for this year. If you have any trouble meeting these demands, please keep in mind that all I ever REALLY want is two simple things: Love and Peace. In my professional opinion, all of us have a responsibility to make those happen. We can start by being loving and kind to those we know; and we can spread it further by being kind to everyone we meet. And of course we mustn’t forget those who are in need. Even small donations can go a long way if we all chip in just a little.

I know it’s a little early, but I’d like to wish all of you a Very Happy Merry and a Truly Joyful Wonderful. Peace, Love and Hugs to You All.

“And now,” as Mr. Cleese said during many a Monty Python show, “for something completely different.” Although it’s not really that different… just “different.”

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!!

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.

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.

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”

Now, as Rocket J. Squirrel used to say, “now here’s something we hope you’ll really like!!”