Some Reasons Why I Haven't Been Blogging

I was on safari in Africa and the tour Jeep ran out of gas and the group I was traveling with had to walk a hundred miles through cobra/lion infested savanna and not everybody made it but the tour guide made us carry what was left of our travel mates' corpses plus about halfway out we were abducted by aliens who made us enroll in the H&R Block tax preparation class so as a payback I've been working twelve hours a day at the H&R Block in Terre Haute, Indiana, for the past month. About two weeks into that job I began having cobra flashbacks and had to go into electric shock therapy which knocked a filling loose so I had to have some emergency dental work done. The dentist screwed up and worked on the wrong tooth so I filed a malpractice lawsuit and had a full day of depositions, but before that I had to go shopping for new clothes. While I was shopping I ran into several people I hadn't seen for years though I don't remember their names nor how I know them--we talked about all the good times I don't remember and then went our separate ways, promising to stay in touch...

Toilet for Sale or Rent

My toilet lies under the ocean. My toilet lies under the sea.
I dream of Toilet with the light brown hair.
(I think I shall never see
a poem lovely as a toilet.)
I saw the best toilets of my generation destroyed by Sani-Flush, starving hysterical
naked,
scrubbing themselves through the Ajax streets at dawn looking for an angry brush...
There's no place like Toilet.
The cow jumped over the toilet.
Popeye toil't till he puk't, and then he toil't s'more.
I'd have gotten away with it if it hadn't been for them meddling kids and their mangy toilet.
Rub the lamp and receive three toilets.
The Great Wall of Toilet.
The Big Toilet.
That Toilet'n Town.
(Short toilets got no reason
Short toilets got no reason
Short toilets got no reason
to live)
I ain't got no red toilets...

some good places to drink beer

on the couch
on the toilet
in your car
in my car
at a bar
at a pub
at a tavern
at a restaurant
at a cafe
at a hotel
at a motel
at an inn
at a dive
at a fleabag motel
at an hourly motel
in a hot tub
in the kitchen
on the front porch
on the living room floor
at the kitchen table
under the kitchen table
in the front yard
in the back yard
in the swimming pool
in the bathtub
in the neighbor's yard
in the street
in the alleyway
in the driveway
in bed
at work
in a dream
in a daydream
in a daydream at work
on an airplane
in a bus
on a train
on a skateboard
on a hike
at a picnic table
on water skis
while parachuting
on a brewery tour
in jail
on the beach
in the forest
in the desert
in an empty irrigation canal
floating on an inner tube
in a submarine
on a boat
on a raft
in the closet
under the bed
in the rec room
in the woodshed
by the woodpile
at the bowling alley
at the baseball game
at the football game
in the parking lot at a baseball or football game
behind the 7-11
behind the Rite-Aid
on the side of the road while hitchhiking
on the side of the road while sunbathing
on the side of the road while reading
at the library
at the pet store
at the grocery store
at the political rally
at a concert
at church
at the bus stop
at a piano recital
under a full moon
under a starless sky
in solitary confinement
in a museum
at a hockey game
at a basketball game
at a soccer match
in the electronics department at Sears
on a riding lawnmower

and more spam I've received

vertabrae twine
boundless license
brittle die
fanciful blusher
administration momentary
pour schmaltzy
hooky truancy abrupt
phi appliance childish
priority reputable
air traffic controller yacht
rocking chair wow
electric yardstick
contraption barnacle
junk mail blow-dry
huh headway
vie grocer
sitting agonized
cancellation rigmarole
refrigeration endowment
insight unfamiliar
boost gloominess
chauvinistic hermetic
itch cook
warn enlightened
lacy unsettled
color indirect
run tantalizingly
do my shamefaced
despair other
demoralize smarts
fidgety poised
grungy manipulation
leer node
whim bribe
tidal sin
oatmeal tabulate
baffled typify
go potential
overpriced former
hydroelectric friendless
railroad crossing exec
annotated hypothermia
remake cringe

subject headers of spam I've received

runway bump
subculture servant
urbane variously
trench double
gain grease
cargo deportee
preliminary enrichment
drab BBQ
deal sluggish
visor stiffness
dopey pleat
urban variously
obedient holy
restive decapitate
presecutor culmination
hurdler casing
cactus competence
crimson hypotheses
augment gigabyte
pasteurize lowdown
nobleman youth hostel
aquatic foundation
tolerance amelioration
nightie grown
leggings garter
detonator ploy
eagerly blackhead
lib discretionary
foxhole disclose
inflation Eskimo
janitor southwestern
equate hood
fridge fast food
screwdriver rascal
simper deal
sabbath shafer interlude
indoctrination hoard
researve guarantee
writer classical
orange ceiling
swimmer lumbering
blond avaricious
electric shock
inoffensive hesitantly
adamant high roller
cultural resin
clung greenback
nicely conversant
gold medalist foci
harassment choppiness
coffin wildly
currant orientation
backhand radiant
periscope thousandth
home loan simulate
fill incoherent
malted milk drinker
elect wages
marsupial gross

w, w, w, w, w, w words (or not)

wombatasty
whizbangladesh
whittlekins
wanderbust
wonderbronze
wishfulfillment
winesong
woodificould
wideloadstone
wrapperview
weavesome
wheatkill
wafflesmell
wrestlemap
wandpond
woofwoofhoof (I now pronounce you dog on horse)
wharfratatat
wigfart
whigprig
welfarce
willowdown
whiskerchief

b,b,b,b,b,b words (or not)

buntface
bubblejunk
boozelegs
brastacean
biblips
bivalvecream
bedsighs
bumprump
bovinebrain
beepbeepcreep
bowwowvow (I now pronouce you dog on dog)
boyserious
Boiserious, Idaherroneous
banzaiyams
billowpillow
battleshit
baffleship
boondocksfish
buckaroozoo
bedsorbet
buckettalk
butterties
bogglequeer
boxcarnal

that wasn't very nice

Someone threw a large carrot? Now, that wasn't very nice, thought someone as she stood in line for mixed nuts. As she approached the front of the line, she could see in the distance as a '75 Barracuda careened over a cliff and crashed in an enormous ball of fire and twisting metal. Imagine, she thought, wasting a perfectly good carrot.

follow the directions correctly

The grizzly bear lives on Rural Route 2, Snow Cave, Past the Icy Creek and Up the Old Tree-Covered Mountain, Stop for Huckleberries in Season, Have a Sip from Glacial Fjord Lake, and Sleep All Winter and Burn the Fat. His place is easy to find if you follow the directions correctly. A perky bottle of chianti and a small bunch of fragrant wildflowers in water are appreciated.

someone threw a large carrot

What about the mixed nuts? There was a promise of mixed nuts, murmered someone in the crowd. Mrs. Chainsaw walked by clutching a canvas shopping bag full of cans of condensed soup and one greeting card. Mrs. Abscessed Tooth bicycled by with a large bunch of celery strapped to her back. Everyone turned away from Mrs. Chainsaw to watch as Mrs. Abscessed Tooth whooshed by. As she approached, someone threw a large carrot at her head. The carrot missed and hit Mr. Garden Hose on the nose. The hitchhiker leaned over to lend him a hand. As the hitchhiker leaned over, Father noticed his long lost pet fly strip, Pasty, affixed to the hitchhiker's back. He hitched a ride on a motorcycle driven by a monocled salmon with a gold tooth. As they sped down the road, Father spotted Ernest, lying still in a large pile of leaves. "It is, after all, only a large pile of leaves," said Ernest. Back in town, a bewildered gardener asked an ancient librarian about the nuts.

as it approached a cliff

Mr. Hutchings-Claymore gripped the steering wheel tightly with both of his hands. He wore a plain white tee shirt and faded brown corderoy beret. He held an unlit pipe in his teeth. The stereo was turned off. One sock was white, the other tan. A two-day old newspaper and a cheeseburger wrapper lay on the passenger seat next to him. In the trunk, Mrs. Hutchings-Claymore lay bound with rope and duct tape over her mouth. A bowling trophy, adorned with a plastic silver eagle, was taped to Mrs. Hutchings-Claymore's hands. The car accelerated as it approached a cliff.

enjoy the soup

Mrs. Chainsaw stood in line at the Rite-Aid waiting to purchase a greeting card. What's your card say?, asked someone. "I'm very nervous right now," answered Mrs. Chainsaw, to no one in particular. Is it a Christmas card?, asked another. Maybe it's a happy retirement card, said another. "I'm too nervous to eat soup," muttered Mrs. Chainsaw. Is it an enjoy the soup card?, mused a stranger in a red and black wool flannel shirt. Oh yes, that must be it, everyone agreed. Enjoy the soup, said everyone in unison.

stuffing large underground silos

The Cheese Doodle War started innocently at first. Crunchistan began stockpiling crunchy cheese doodles near the border of Puffalonia, pouring the doodles into fortified, waterproof underground bunkers. Officials stated this program was to ensure a steady supply of crunchy cheese doodles, but government officials in Puffalonia feared Crunchistan was in fact preparing for all out cheese doodle war.

A few weeks passed and still Crunchistan continued filling underground bunkers with the popular cheese snack. Citizens in Puffalonia, startled at their neighbor's hostility, began marching in the streets, demanding retaliation. All the while, Puffalonia, under the leadership of the Snacking Party, began secretly stuffing large underground silos with puffy cheese curls. During this time, a covert operation was begun, as undercover intelligence officers from the Cheesy Intelligence Agency, or CIA, filled short-range missiles with Cheez Whiz.

Tensions grew more and more serious. Cheese doodle shortages predominated in both countries as citizens stockpiled underground bomb shelters. A few foolish people even resorted to spraying plastic packing peanuts with spray cheese, but their resulting deaths served as a reminder to others that only authentic doodles sustain life.

Weeks passed. Puffalonians and Crunchistanians marched in the streets of their capital cities. Television pundits traded barbs and predicted the other side would blink first. But no one ever blinked. Each country stepped up production of cheese doodles. Each country increased its enormous stockpile of cheese doodles. The world watched with horror as the two feuding countries dug a deep moat between them and built enormous cheese doodle catapults aimed at one another.

And so the Cheese Doodle War started, when one day a guard, snacking on a bag of nacho corn chips, tripped on a pebble and fell into the moat and drowned. It is not even worth noting which side he was guarding. It was many years ago, and everyone has since lost the taste for cheese-flavored snacks.

burning cougars saving schoolchildren

Top Ten Things to Do When a Small-Time Lit Mag Editor Rejects Some Bit of Writing You Sent in the Vain Hope of Publishing It:

1. Invent unconventional sports team names: Peoria Peanut Butter Aficionados; Lubbock Storm Drain Sox; Portland Scabby Elbows; Tacoma Jongs; Nevada Sexually-Transmitted Disease Sufferers; Atlanta Melted Velveetas.
2. Pick bits of lint out of your navel while awaiting a train.
3. Eat God Save the Queen brand sardines packed in oil you bought at Rite-Aid.
4. Pat your pet fly strip, Pasty, on the head and stare at the wall.
5. Pack a small duffel bag with three changes of clothes, a small handheld tape recorder, one pencil, and a pad of recycled notepaper, then walk to the street corner and stick out your thumb for a ride.
6. Accept a ride from an elderly man who says he's going to hell but can drop you off at a gas station somewhere down the road.
7. Sit on a curb in front of a gas station somewhere and hum "God Save the Queen."
8. Get out pencil and pad and outline an "All in the Family" episode you remember from years ago in which Archie says something bigoted and Meathead objects and Gloria cries and Edith gets Archie a beer.
9. Draw a stick figure lying on a bed of nails surrounded by burning cougars and imagine it's an editor who, though he liked your bit of writing, said he would pass on it anyway.
10. Write a short story about burning cougars saving schoolchildren from an advancing tornado.

check his pockets, navel, and knee behinds

More Things to Do, This Time While Waiting for a Train to Arrive in Station:

1. Pick bits of lint from the bottoms of your pockets.
2. Pick bits of lint from your navel.
3. Pick bits of lint from your sweater.
4. Pick bits of lint from behind your knees.
5. Wonder how bits of lint became lodged behind your knees.
6. Pick bits of lint from the cashmere sweater of the man seated next to you in the waiting area.
7. Explain to the man seated next to you that lint has been found to be highly toxic.
8. Ask the man seated next to you if you could check his pockets, navel, and knee behinds.
9. Pick bits of lint from between the cheeks of your derriere.
10. Wonder where the man seated next to you has disappeared to so suddenly.

God Save the Queen

Top Ten Things to do While Waiting for a Freighter to Arrive in Port:

1. Clip fingernails while whistling "God Save the Queen."
2. Clip fingernails while scratching crotch and humming "God Save the Queen."
3. Clip fingernails while burping up last night's dinner and singing "God Save the Queen" at lungs' full capacity.
4. Clip coupons for God the Save Queen brand toenail shavings at Rite-Aid.
5. Stop clipping coupons for God Save the Queen brand lip balm at Rite-Aid and slip into a coma and fall off a park bench onto the ground, scattering several dozen pigeons in whirrs of surprise.
6. Walk slowly toward a bright light at the end of a long, long tunnel, while in the background a tinny, scratchy recording of "God Save the Queen" plays.
7. Cough uncontrollably and rue the day you dropped out of barber college to pursue a career schlepping God Save the Queen brand vacuum cleaners door to door.
8. After dreaming of the lost financial opportunities that could have been had by opening a chain of God Save the Queen Barber Colleges, wake from a coma and find a half dozen sardines in your left breast shirt pocket.
9. Clip a coupon for a tin of God Save the Queen brand sardines packed in oil at Rite-Aid.
10. Read an upside down road map of Switzerland with a God Save the Queen brand magnifying glass purchased at Rite-Aid.

it's always the same face

cuckoo spit: a frothy secretion exuded on plants by the nymphs of spittle insects.
http://www.webster.com/cgi-bin/dictionary?va=cuckoo%20spit

Sheeyit, said Randolph, we's got us all kinds'a cuckoo spit in these parts.
But why's they nymphs all over them leafs, wondered Randolph to himself silently, looking askance. Randolph sat down on an ancient tree stump, the rings rubbed smooth over the years. In the distance black clouds of starlings darted through the sky, the round orange sun stretched out tired and dropped below the horizon. Randolph scratched his knee and looked at a healing, pink scab on his knuckle.

Somewhere, in a convention center, Curtis Spittle of Thermos Falls, Idaho, handed out Reverend Nineball "Prayer Mysteries" to passers by, many of whom quickly deposited them in the nearest waste bin, where some time later Mr. Spittle dug them out, saved the ones that were clean, so he could leave them under windshield wipers in the Applebee's parking lot next door.

Sheeyit, said Randolph, there must be a million things I don't know. The sky by now was quite dark, filling with rain clouds, the air filled with sounds of distant traffic and an intermittent train whistle. Every day I look in the mirror to see what I find and it's always the same face looking back at me, Randolph thought. He remained on the tree stump as it began to rain, fat drops of cold water splashing on his head.

how do, howdy, hello, howzit, ho ho

Five strangers introduce themselves in a crowded convention hall. Hello, my name is Bob my friends call me Bob my wife calls me Bob my kids call me for money and I represent the Affiliated Tooth Powder Consortium of Hedgehog Flats, Arkansas; how do, howdy, hello, howzit, ho ho (hoo boy). Greetings, my name is Curtis Spittle of Thermos Falls, Idaho, and I represent the Reverend Nineball "Prayer Mysteries" series, which you might have seen stuck under your windshield wiper a time or two at your local shopping mall; how do, howdy, hello, howzit, ho ho (go to hell). Folks, allow me to introduce myself I'm Pete Patoot of the Sunshine Denture Alternatives Project, yes in fact we are working this very moment on a new kind of dentures made of recycled plastic and huckleberries and the test cases we're running in Vietnam look veeerrrry promising; how do, howdy, hello, howzit, ho ho (what the hell?). Me? Oh, I'm Kathy McVeigh no I'm no relation of the Reno Rental Truck and Manure Company of Waco, Texas, and I'm here this week to present an exciting new line of products we're calling Blammo Storage Boxes, as we say, "they're blammo!" How do, howdy, hello, howzit, ho ho (duck!). I guess that leaves me I'm Theocrates Miller of Yonkers, New York, representing the Q-777 Instant Mashed Yams company, a business venture of the Upstate New York Yam Growers Cooperative; how do, howdy, hello, howzit, ho ho (I gotta get in on the ground level of this yam thing).

lying in a large pile of leaves

Ernest lay in a large pile of leaves. Mr. Oil Stain approached and said a silent prayer. Mrs. Chainsaw sat under the oak, its branches bare and brown, and stared straight ahead, tears welling in her eyes. Professor Leaf Rake remained a respectable distance away, reciting poetry to the wind. Mrs. Abscessed Tooth was not there. She was at home baking, as she did whenever she was nervous.

Mr. Garden Hose approached the large pile of leaves, poked Ernest with a stick, and grumbled, you're always trying to get our attention, aren't you? Well, I'll have none of it!

I think he might be dead, said someone as a crinkly yellow leaf lofted into the cold, brisk wind.

I'm just a man lying in a large pile of leaves, replied Ernest.

don a tutu and do the splits

You should be watching football, said Mrs. Hutchings-Claymore. No, I should be cleaning out the rain gutters, said Mr. Hutchings-Claymore. No, no, you sit and eat cheese puffs and drink beer and watch football, said Mrs. Hutchings-Claymore. I would rather sip sparkling cider, eat celery sticks, and clean out the rain gutters, said Mr. Hutchings-Claymore. You will sit your ass on the couch and drink beer and fart and scratch yourself while watching football, said Mrs. Hutchings-Claymore. I will shave my back and don a tutu and do the splits in the front yard, said Mr. Hutchings-Claymore. I will smash the television with a sledgehammer and pour buckets of white paint over your bowling trophies, said Mrs. Hutchings-Claymore. I will watch football now, said Mr. Hutchings-Claymore.