Bloglet, the gentleman's mock turtle soup -- Moss made it sweeter than myrrh ash and dhoup
Huroo! Hermione Gingold, the lady who went 'Baaaaaaalzac!', and played the evil headmistress of the home for orphaned musical instruments, and something also in _Gigi_, saints preserve us, is also the title role in a bawdy 1950's _Lysistrata_ that I checked out on record from the library! My bosom flutters!
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11:13:43 PM,Wednesday 2 May 2001
What could thispossibly mean?!
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(2)
10:59:04 PM,Wednesday 2 May 2001
That's what I thought. I was right. I'd always said 'Bye-ROIT', but Mr. Fasanaro was pronouncing it 'Bay-ROOT', like in Lebanon, and I knew that wasn't right. When was the last time you saw a Niebelung in Lebanon?!
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(1)
02:57:34 AM,Wednesday 2 May 2001
"Now if you'll be kind enough to name your favorite composers, whom would you like to hear?"
Awright, now, y'all get to play alienist. Won't that be fun? I might have told this saga to a few of you, but I decided to concatenate the thing as fully as I have it now, so it won't disappear.
I got Jezebel in October '99. A while afterwards, I started having dreams about her. I'd never had recurring dreams before. Here are what I remember, though I've missed a few (there must have been at least eight or nine):
* I decide to make soup out of her dirt substrate. I pour the boiling water in her tank, not realizing that she's still in there. She gets boiled alive.
* I realize that her species likes to burrow, so I add more dirt to the tank. She burrows down too deep and smothers or crushes herself. I try to dig her out, but can't.
* She's about to molt, and is absolutely motionless. Her exoskeleton becomes very brittle, almost like glass shards stacked on one another geometrically. I accidentally puff a bit of wind into her, and she disappears into dust.
* Some evil bastard wants to kill her. He tricks me by kidnapping her and leaving a big, aggressive scorpion in her place. I find out too late and see that he's dismembered her on a paper plate. Her limbs are still moving.
* She accidentally escapes and a cat nearly eats her.
* She's loose and I'm looking for her. Somehow she's fastened herself onto the bottom of my shoe, so when I go to take a step, I break her tail off. She bleeds red blood. She suddenly becomes very affectionate. she runs up my arm and puts her claws around my neck.
...
those are all the ones I can remember. The last one happened last night. Tell me what the holy #*$& they mean, will you? Incidentally, I provisionally decided to do my senior essay on Freud while listening to Phil Navarro's oral. Maybe that's perverse, I dunno. (`8 Is it a good idea? I haven't read him yet, except for one paper of his that I've got on audio tape.
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11:35:01 PM,Tuesday 1 May 2001
Gee, I didn't know he was CONRAD BURNS'S ghostwriter...
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(4)
08:17:00 PM,Tuesday 1 May 2001
"The Editor in Chief of the GREAT BOOK SERIES, was Robert Maynard Hutchins, former president of the RED UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO. He was a Zionist puppet for many years. Others on the advisory staff were the Jew Mortimer Adler, the Jew Stringfellow Barr who wrote for many Communist papers, the Jew Joseph Schwab, and extreme left "pinko" Mark Van Doren. Quite a series, it is, and it does the dirty work of International Jewry in brainwashing the minds of our people."
Woo-hoo! _
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(4)
12:55:30 AM,Monday 30 April 2001
If I ever became a Raver_
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08:34:21 PM,Sunday 29 April 2001
warning: offensive lyrics.
awright, now, you might have noticed that I put a bawdy version of the Happy Little Vegemites song on my bloglet several months back (I think it was on one of the erased pages.) Just today, I find an audio file on the internet containing nearly the same revisions my filthy little brain had instantly come upon. Well, this is simply too juicy. Apologies to the tender-hearted.
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08:22:40 PM,Sunday 29 April 2001
Well I died and went to heaven, went to see the One in Three,
Who said, "We're pretty busy, son, just come back, after tea",
so I sat upon a drifting cloud, and I viewed the passing scene -
which was very like Killarney, though it wasn't quite so green.
And everything seemed in its place, and I couldn't work out why,
so I asked this passing angel "Pray tell me Sir," says I -
"Ah" he says, "it's very simple, the Lion lies with the Lamb -
.....and the Bovril's with the Gravy but the Marmite's with the Jam
.....the Bovril's with the Gravy, but the Marmite's with the Jam.
-- Kevin McGrath
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(1)
07:47:34 PM,Sunday 29 April 2001
Navy won! Woe! Sorrow! Ay, ay, ay, ay... I feel like him._
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01:01:13 AM,Sunday 29 April 2001
It was dumb in the theater, it was dumb at Mabel, it was dumb tonight. The Matrix is a dumb, dumb, movie. Or I don't get it. Look, I'll bet you all, carrots to pheasants, that in 25 years, The Matrix will be the 90's Clash of the Titans. I freaking dare you. Bet me. Remember Clash of the Titans? Think how cool that was in 1981. They had a golden animatronic owl! They had a clay-mation hydra! They had skeletons rising up from the earth! They had freaking _Laurence Olivier_! It was sooooo cool, that's how cool it was. Seen it recently? hee-hee-hee-hee... yeah, it looks all hip and high-tech and philosophical *now* -- well, you know what? The only cool part of that movie was the part with the babies being harvested on spindly metal fruit trees. And that lasted about six seconds. Y'know what the rest of that movie was? TRIPE!!!! It had cool liquid metal morphing effects! It had an ear-numbing techno soundtrack! It had ninja action kung-fu grip! It had freaking _Laurence Fishburne_! Oooooooh!!! Well, mark my words, pop-culture fingerbeaters. It's gonna be a big ol' midnight ha-ha.
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(1)
12:16:56 AM,Sunday 29 April 2001
I met the most polite Satanist on the bus today. He said his name was 'Satan' (though he pronounced it Say-'n), and he asked me if I'd like to join his cult, the 666-clique. He said he doesn't do any nasty initiation, like other cults, or animal sacrifice -- except a goat, once, and they ate it afterwards. He says he doesn't kill anybody, unless his 'freaks' are threatened with their lives. He's a _nice_ Satanist. He even gave me some of his poetry: ... oh, tarnation. It fell out of my pocket. Anyway, it was very sweet, all about destiny, and -- no, wait, here it is: "the spirit of love captchers your soul, the passhion in your eyes captchered my hart. I don't even know your name but It feels as If I know everything about you. I've seen you befor I meet you. It feels like your part of my life and I can't understand why I'm Not even gona try it feels as if were ment to Be to gether I" it breaks off here. Written to some chick he spyed on the street one day, apparently. Anyway, his dad is a Dark priest at a Satanic church in Boise Idaho, and he offered to lend me some of his Crowley and LeVay to start my education... then he walked away, singing "Satan loves me, this I know, for the Black Bible tells me so..." What a charming young man.
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(1)
12:05:10 AM,Sunday 29 April 2001
This is a good article.
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(1)
12:16:11 AM,Saturday 28 April 2001
Ever heard of those super-sonic earwax cleaning devices? For half the price, try Birgit Nilsson! Worked for me... {staggering}
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08:15:32 PM,Friday 27 April 2001
The Best Personality Test Ever This was written by a kid who went to my high school, Clifton Fels. I didn't know him all that well, but this is a pretty damn cool personality test, if'n you ask me an' all. ayup.
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01:34:42 AM,Friday 27 April 2001
Tod ist ein Laaaaaaaaaanger Schlaf... Schlaf ist ein kurtzer kurtzer Tod, der Lindert dir und jener Tilgt das Lebens noth... Tod ist ein Laaaaaanger Schlaf!
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(5)
12:34:16 AM,Friday 27 April 2001
This mighty man of whom I sing,
The greatest of them all,
Was once a teeny little thing,
Just eighteen inches tall.
I knew him as a tiny tot,
I nursed him on my knee.
I used to sit him on the pot
And wait for him to wee.
I always washed between his toes
And cut his little nails.
I brushed his hair and wiped his nose
And weighed him on the scales.
Through happy childhood days he strayed
As all nice children should.
I smacked him when he disobeyed
And stopped when he was good.
It soon began to dawn on me
He wasn't very bright
Because when he was twenty-three
He couldn't read or write
'What shall we do?' his parents sob
'The boy has got the vapors!
He couldn't even get a job
Delivering the papers!'
'Ah-ha!' I said, 'this little clot
Could be a politician.'
'Nanny', he cried 'Oh, Nanny, what
A super proposition!'
'Okay', I said, 'let's learn and note
The art of politics
Let's teach you how to miss the boat
And how to drop some bricks,
And how to win the people's vote,
And lots of other tricks.
Let's learn to make a speech a day,
Upon the T.V. screen,
In which you never never say
Exactly what you mean.
And most important, by the way,
Is not to let your teeth decay,
And keep your fingers clean.
And now that I am eighty-nine,
It's too late to repent.
The fault was mine the little swine
Became the president.
I gave my love a chicken without the bone
I gave my love a cherry without the stone
I gave my love a baby, and then you see
my love got very angry and she said to me
"I didn't mind the chicken without the bone,
I didn't mind the cherry without the stone
but when you give a baby, there's just one thing --
you oughtta give at least an engagement ring!"
Yay Allen Sherman! Yay!
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02:01:58 PM,Thursday 26 April 2001
