Of arms I sing. A one-man Tarzan connecting the dots.
Reorient yourself, o king of the apes,
Though ye twist everything to your heart’s content,
then untwist arms and the man.
Empires ain’t what they used to be,
not enough juice to span from sea to sea.
Ora Lee, I heard her in the wind. The sewer man and his step daughter were stewing in the tub. Last night I caught them laying sod, in contravention of the bylaws. He was telling her a story that can scarcely be believed.
It seems that 32,000 litres of raw sewage flooded the basement of the Domo Furniture Emporium in Toronto during World Youth Day last July. The flood occurred when 7,000 portable toilets were emptied after the final mass by the Pope.
A spokesman for the Pope declined to comment on whether the Pope’s sermon was in any way responsible for the outcome. “He’s just talking figuratively,” said Cardinal Kissinger of Transylvania.
The mass, which attracted 800,000 pilgrims, was conducted on land owned by the Department of National Defence, so the task of assigning blame was complex. But a committee of elders has put the onus on the Pope, and imposed a fine of a hoghead of holy water and an agreement to put his money, for the time being, where his mouth is.
A 1-in. hole was bored in the center of a 2-in. square block. Two finishing nails were driven in, as shown in the sketch. These were connected to terminals of an induction coil. After everything was ready the powder was poured in the hole and a board weighted with rocks placed over the block. When the button is pressed or the circuit closed in some other way the discharge occurs. The distance between the nail points–which must be bright and clean–should be just enough to give a good, fat spark. –Contributed by Geo. W. Fry, San Jose, Cal.
We’ve all been there. Man’s favorite splurt. We’ll blurt out your words as soon as you speak ’em. Once poked, twice blinded.
A brace of birds makes a fine kettle of fish. Cover the ears of the little ones with cotton batting. Plug their noses with mint julep. Stop up their behinds with tar and feathers. If they so much as open their gills give them a good licking.
Madame Mac Méod (future Mata Hari) éxécutant des danses brahmaniques dans la bibliothèque du Musée Guimet de Paris
*13-3-1905
Using the advanced editing suite he was able to add a dash of peasant to his mix, and to tone back the cosmopolitan. The proceeds from his cut of the robot dream sequence in Sex Kittens go to College allowed him to replace his spleen with a dog’s breakfast. He was field stripping a spec 4 with x-ray eyes when she was sent on a sea cruise with her spiritual advisor.
Please confirm that you have consented to this operation and that in the case of a less-than-favorable outcome you donate
your gizzard to the butcher
your needs to the baker
your charming ways to the candlestick maker
He was hoping to make the next pay grade at the sewage treatment plant, the only industry still showing year-to-year growth. She, as a reward for her performance selling perfume in junior achievement, swallowed a fly.
You know the story of the farmer who stumped the philosopher with a simple question, “What brings you out on a night like this?” But did you see the poet spin on a fantastic toe and flee the gathering with his tale between his legs?
I’ll bet you dorks to donuts that there’s nothing up my sleeve, and if there is, that you put it there.
And I’ll drop a dime on you if you spill those beans on the birds and the beeswax. Keep it all under your tinfoil hat. Don’t spoil the children’s surprises, lord knows we’ve left them a batch.
In the prenuptials they pledged to lick each other’s compass until the cows came home, if it got to that bearing. But he learned to speak Urgudu on the tom-tom when he heard there were some cool cats there, and that changed his whole way of looking at things. When the bottoms fell out of the pussy market he was the last to know.
Let them without pretensions utter the first scoff. And let them who ain’t stoned honor their vows.
Elvis never came to my funeral, and why would he, I never came to his. Jesus never mentioned me in his will, but I will mention his in mine.
Of Tarzan and the arm I sing
Wonder Woman and Fu Manchu
Working it up in the lab at night
By the light of the silvery moo
His good arm got caught in the wringer while trying to squirt a growth hormone into the whites. He treated it with a double dilution of the ruptured spleen of the creature from the Black Lagoon. You can imagine how that turned out. His hard drives barely get to sleep. He’s sooey generis, very generous, especially with his greenhouse gases. He was able to convert them to laughing gases via the laws of capitalism.
What to say about her? Born dancing. Junior achiever. The crack in the cosmic egg. He had her tailed so he knew there wasn’t another man.
When you go out to write, you’ve got to look out for those hemmingways. What’s a hemmingway? Forty ounce in the old measure, just shy of a jeroboam.
Even flies sleep, so I suppose worms do too. Or maybe they just take a nap. Do they dream? Even Freud couldn’t figure that out.
Simulations show that if the Earth did not have a Moon, Newton would not have discovered gravity. At least not until 1950, by which time the Russians were already working on Sputnik.
Welcome to the rod and gun club. Let me take your coat before you make a run for the mountains. A burn in the bush is worth two in hand. Don’t make any deals until you’ve spoken to your grocer.
They conducted a survey to find out who lives under the bridge.
And they were:
Someone who is too clever by half
An itinerant tinkerer in a greasy sleeping bag
A bespoke tailor and herds never heard of again
Spies for the government on tax-free commissions
Disgraced politicians.
Defrocked priests
Written-off editors
Lame dancers.
Itchy swimmers
Slum lords
Capons, croutons, cast-iron stomachs
Rusty windpipes
Mutes blown by a stuffed potato.
It is recorded by Sempiverous Vivitius (in Vie de Scipion l’Africain, the archaic French translation by Master Bodo of Bourgony) that Caesar said that at low tide the Celts would bind their captive women to the posts of the pier, and poke fun at them as the tide came in. The tide came at
sixes and sevens
round numbers squared
square numbers in a round whole
higher numbers
irrational numbers
numbers too tight to mention
But don’t worry your pretty head about ancient history or higher mathematics. We’ve gone far beyond that. When’s the last time you saw a captive woman? In the heyday of Fu Manchu ? When the lily-white girl got up-ended by the jungle bunnies? When the Nazis let loose their gorillas on the Red Cross nurses. You might remember, it happened just the other day.
Under the Warning, Alert, and Response Network (WARN) Act of 2006, cellphone users cannot opt out of the presidential alerts. Please stay tuned.
