Vision? Nary!

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As a scholar and a gentleman, interested in both Stalin and Ham, I have downloaded the large image to print on glossy photo paper and frame on the wall.

From the Summer Squash Festival, reading at the Tortoise Butler Arts Hotel.

Wiener in a Bottle; Questions about Cake; and A Word About My Alma Mater.

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From the Starry Night Summer Solstice Bash

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“On May 21, a judge of the U.S. District Court for the Eastern District of California dismissed a complaint filed by a woman who said she had purchased “Cap’n Crunch with Crunchberries” because she believed “crunchberries” were real fruit. The plaintiff, Janine Sugawara, alleged that she had only recently learned to her dismay that said “berries” were in fact simply brightly-colored cereal balls, and that although the product did contain some strawberry fruit concentrate, it was not otherwise redeemed by fruit. She sued, on behalf of herself and all similarly situated consumers who also apparently believed that there are fields somewhere in our land thronged by crunchberry bushes.”

[Lowering the Bar]

Like Kim Jong-il, I have decided to “weaponize all my plutonium.” Why do I have so much plutonium? Transuranium element fixation?
Possibly. I am attracted to other elements on the periodic table, but the transuranium ones just have that je ne sais quois.
There is something about it.

I don’t know how I got so much of it. There was a time, long ago, when I had as little as none at all. Then I received some as a gift. I picked some up when I was out and about. People gave me more and more of it as I acquired more and more of it.
It started to pile up, filling every nook and cranny.
It’s just lucky that I like plutonium. Some people constantly receive baubles that they care little for or about.
Not me. I like plutonium. And I’m not just saying that to be nice. If you have some plutonium, and you’re not using it, you can always give it to me.

At some point, though I certainly was not lacking for plutonium, having more than I could ever use, I started to dig for it. It was when I was involved in strip mining my back yard that the troubles started. I don’t know which of my neighbors complained. I assume one of them did. Possibly the one with the constantly barking dog or the one with the all night parties. Anyway, that’s when these regulatory people started nosing around. “We’re from the department of energy,” they would say, as if I was supposed to find that impressive. They wanted to know if I had any permits. They were very interested in all the plutonium they could see lying about.
My view is, and this is a view that evolved rather than something inborn, that if you have enough plutonium this negates the need for permits, zoning and other such restrictions.
A man with enough plutonium is not a man lightly trifled with.

And therein lies the problem. If you have enough plutonium, what are you going to do with it? Yes, it’s beautiful and that’s why you start to collect it. Ultimately you are forced to face the question: what are you going to do with it?
The answer is, weaponize it.
It’s the only logical recourse.

Twilight of the Clowns.
A traditional way of life is replaced by another vagabond existence.

In a world gone mad, what is a clown to do?

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This is a better recording of Igor. This is a chapter of the book Rhyme or Treason, from the audio book version I’m currently working on.
Here I do different voices for the characters.

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If I become a zombie, I hope I enjoy brains. Otherwise, what’s the point?

Baby food rarely contains babies. Truth in advertising.

Hyenas laugh at you, not with you. You specifically. True.

Guys shirt says “F*** television.” A weird kink, sure, but it’s his.

I want to make a shirt with a big fly looking at you. Caption: “Eat Shit!”

In times of trouble ask yourself: “What would Paul Lynde do?” The answer lies in the center square.

In times of trouble I ask myself: “What Would Charles Foster Kane Do?” Build Xanadu.

These microsoft bathrooms are painted a shade of green meant to disorient wild animals.

Once I tamed a wild cat. I also have a wild bear experience, not involving a unicycle. Should this be on my resume?

Brother Theodore: “Madam, your untimely laughter is ruining an otherwise exquisite performance.” The first performer who canned laughter.

Did the Wicked Witch of the West teach monkeys to fly or employ only experienced flying monkeys? Flying Monkeys: evil or economic victims?

If you can afford a monkey butler living in a tree is the best. Also, fast getaways via vines. Avoid vine rush hour, naturally.

I have invented the electric fly. Patent pending. Push a button, zip it up. Modern. Convenient. Possibly a danger- gears, motor. Progress!

Chopsticks can be dangerous. Especially when you look at them close. The warning in tiny print on the tip of each one is there for a reason.

Potatoes are magically delicious. Ask a leprechaun.

[ http://twitter.com/David_Raffin ]

The Bavarian Pigeon Corps (or Bavarian Pigeon Fleet) was a fleet of carrier pigeons each of which could be fitted with a miniature leg- or breast-mounted camera. The pigeons were used during the early 1900s by the Bavarian Army for message transmission and aerial reconnaisance over their theatres of operation in Europe.

[via Wikipedia]

This reading took place at Last Word Books in Olympia, WA on June 11, 2009.

Tar Baby ; More than one day in the life of Igor Igoravitch ; Old Clown Day ; No Excuses ; Representations in the third millenium

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Readings from the book Rhyme or Treason: the hard fought illusion of choice.

Summer is the season for yard sales, which is unfortunate since I hardly ever buy a yard.
Some people say the fun is in browsing, that you don’t have to actually buy a yard.

In Europe they don’t have yard sales. They have meter sales. Americans find this off-putting because there are 0.9144 meters in a yard and that means everything is off by -0.0856.

Traditionally the next day everything is half-off, or, in Europe, 0.4572-off.
Some people find this unsettling because all the goods (and yards) are cut in half.

This is like the celebration of your half-birthday, occurring exactly six months after the anniversary of your birth (and frequently, also, six months beforehand).
On your half-birthday all your presents are cut in half. Half-presents are often found lacking in some regard, disappointing. Children have been known to cry.
Those few that do work, however, really come off.

“We can always count on the Americans to do the right thing, after they have exhausted all the other possibilities.”

— Winston Churchill

Yesterday (June 4) I appeared on the second hour of the Kill Ugly Radio Adventure Hour on WSU’s KOUG.

I did two readings, Excerpts from the Bush Memoirs & Wiener in a Bottle. We talked about bad jobs and punk rock in Portland.

This is the edited second hour. [Download mp3]

[The Kill Ugly Radio blog is found at: http://uglyradio.wordpress.com/ ]

Jim Bergman once said bicyclists should properly be called “cyclists” rather than “bikers.”

This is good but sometimes linguistically awkward.

I say bicyclists ought to be called “pedallers.”
(Not to be confused with peddlers. Those no good cheapjacks!)

Bob the Angry Flower bakes bear cakes.