Saturday, September 26, 2009


It is with great sadness we report that reliable sources close to FERRET-FACED FASCIST FRIENDS have confirmed the reports of singer Michael Jackson’s death. Jackson’s private jet suffered an engine malfunction and crashed in Brentwood, California, while the pop star was en route to Disneyland from his Neverland Ranch on a fact-finding mission. Several young girls who were on board the plane at the time survived the incident by parachuting to safety. Authorities have not yet determined why the young girls were with Jackson during the flight. One of the girls, an eyewitness who has not been identified because of her status as a minor, was questioned about the incident and said, “There was one more parachute available, but Michael refused to use it. He kept referring to himself as Captain EO and said that the captain must go down with the ship.”

Investigators have recovered the airplane’s bleached-white box and hope that upon examination it will reveal clues as to the reason for the plane’s engine malfunction.

Upon learning of the tragic accident, Mickey Mouse exclaimed, “Oh, Gee!” and fainted into the arms of Goofy who said, “Gworsh!”

A funeral service for the superstar will be held this Saturday between the Matterhorn Bobsled Ride and It’s A Small World. All flags at The Happiest Place On Earth will be flown at half mast, and anyone attending the service who presents a Magic Kingdom Club Card at the entrance will receive one-third off the usual Disneyland Day-Pass admission price. That’s a $450. dollar discount.

In related news . . .

When pop star Michael Jackson’s plane made its fatal crash landing, it came down on the 13th hole of the Brentwood Country Club golf course, inadvertently killing the killer of Nicole Brown Simpson, who was just about to tee off. The killer, “Lemon Juice” Simpson, had been wanted for some time by law enforcement authorities in connection with the murder of Brown and Ronald Goldman.

In searching through the wreckage of Jackson’s plane on the 13th green of the exclusive golf course, the body of L.J. Simpson was found. Examination of Simpson’s body showed that he was wearing one golf glove which was covered in blood, and the glove’s fit was PERFECT.

At this point, police examiners believe it was only a coincidence that pop star Michael Jackson was also wearing one glove at the time of his death. Our sources indicate that detectives are questioning Mickey Mouse and Goofy, who were also wearing gloves at the time of the fatal crash, to determine if there is any connection.

A Personal Note: I was so distraught upon learning of the tragic death of Michael Jackson that I sought comfort in the inflated vinyl arms of my lover, Ariel. I am fortunate indeed to have a woman who understands me so completely and who accepts me just the way I am (not to mention one who folds up so compactly for easy storage). It’s true what they say: Behind every ugly man is an inflatable woman.

If any of my readers feel that the comments posted above were in poor taste and reflect great insensitivity on my part, I would like those readers to know that I am very, very—

The only thing more messed up than America is the American version of the English Language. What’s up with this?! For instance: The plural of “potato” is “potatoes” and the plural of “tomato” is “tomatoes”. So, will someone please tell me why in hell is the plural of “avocado” NOT “avocadoes”? If you have more than one avocado, you have “avocados.” Where da “e” be?

My brother Nappy speaks fluent Spanish, and he once told me that in many ways English is a much harder language to learn than is Spanish. Granted, Spanish has some rules that one cannot discern through reason and must therefore be memorized - such as whether a word is considered masculine (ending in “o”) or feminine (ending in “a”), etc. But there are many more nonsensical rules to English that cannot be logically explained and must just be remembered. There have been times when Nappy was attempting to explain the English language to a Mexican and the person asked, “But why is it said so and so?” And Nappy, unable to provide any logical explanation, has had to reply, “It just is”. That’s pretty sorry. And it makes us English speakers seem like maroons.

And this is why for many years I have been in a permanent, angry rebellion against the English language. If you read the stuffs I write for any length of time, you will notice a number of oddities in the way I capitalize and punctuate. For one thing, I never use a semicolon in conjunction with a conjunction! Sometimes my unconventional punctuation occurs because I’m sloppy, and I’m sloppy because I’m careless. And other times my punctuation is sloppy because I’m drunk. Or it might be sloppy because . . . Uhp! I’m an idiot! But more times than not, my unconventional punctuation is a deliberate act of rebellion.

To illustrate: Let’s suppose I walked into a bar, pulled out a gun and told bartenderboy to make me a martini and to be quick about it. If I were to write about this crime later, I would do it like THIS:

I walked into the bar, pulled out a gun, and I told bartenderboy, “Make me a martini and be quick about it”.

Notice how I put that period OUTSIDE of the closing quotation mark rather than before it? According to “orthodox” punctuation, that’s incorrect. But logic demands it be punctuated the way I do it. Why? Because the text enclosed by the quotation marks is supposed to indicate EXACTLY what I said to bartenderboy, and I DID NOT SAY to him, “Make me a martini and be quick about it period”

[And I’ll tell you another thing: If bartenderboy made that martini with vodka, I would have shot his arse. How many times do I have to tell you people that a martini is made with gin? Don’t make me say it A-GIN!]

Now I’ll admit that I frequently forget to rebel and I ACCIDENTALLY punctuate and capitalize in the “orthodox” way rather than the right way. But those are the times when I’m just careless, idiotic, or drunk. Or all three.

For me, the bottom line is this: Until publishers start publishing the books by e.e. cummings with book covers that read “by E.E. Cummings” (properly capitalized), then I consider ALL of the so-called “rules” of written English to be but mere “suggestions.” If e.e. cummings is above the law, then why ain’t I? (Yeah, uh-huh, that’s right, I said “AIN’T”. Whatchoo gonna do about it, Teacherboy?)

And while we’re on the subject of martinis . . .

Some of you people probably think I’m often just being facetious or deliberately goofy when I write some of the things I do. But when it comes to martinis, that is some SERIOUS BUSINESS, and I never joke about it.

When I say that all martinis are made with gin, and that vodka and vermouth does not a martini make, you probably believe I’m just making up nonsense. Well, NONSENSE! I mean what I say, and what I say is the truth. (Nothing – and I mean NOTHING! – makes me madder than a bartender asking “Gin or Vodka?” after I’ve ordered a martini.)

When my Pa passed away in 1996, his entire estate consisted of two things: Old Spice shaving mug, and the 1969 paperback book OFFICIAL LIQUOR BUYERS’ GUIDE by Jack Lewis.

After a protracted lawsuit, which I ultimately won, I inherited both of these items. Brother Nappy got nuttin’! Obviously, the most valuable of those family jewels is the paperback book. Printed on its cover is this: “Industry expert exposes strange price structure and brand smoke screen – Tells you how to save 50% or more on best buys!” This is important stuffs as you can see. Here’s what the Introduction to the book states:

“The Official Liquor Buyers Guide is written by a man in the high echelons of the liquor industry. The name Jack Lewis is a pseudonym. He wishes to remain anonymous for political reasons. The publishers can tell you, however, that this man knows more about liquor than any other man in the business. His advice on quality, taste and price is invaluable.”

What I didn’t learn from decades of intoxication, I learned from this masterpiece by “Jack Lewis.” And when it comes to the all-important subject of martinis, this is what Mr. Lewis writes on page 93:

“There is no such thing as a vodka martini. In order for it to be a martini, it must be made with gin. Personally, a vodka martini would taste better than a gin martini [STMcC: “Boo! Hiss!”], but all that you are doing is drinking a refined alcohol with a little vermouth in it, so you are really not getting a martini when you order a vodka martini – it is a misnomer.”

So, you see? I was tellin’ y’all the truth all along! ALL MARTINIS ARE MADE WITH GIN. Vodka and vermouth should be called a V & V, or something like that.

I have attempted to pass along some of the great knowledge I have gained as a result of studying the OFFICIAL LIQUOR BUYERS’ GUIDE. For instance, when a good but teetotalling friend of mine said in an email, “If I were going to buy a bourbon, I know enough to get a single-malt scotch.” I informed her that scotch and bourbon are two very different things, and I quoted the following to her from page 61:

“Under the Federal Alcohol Administration Act, Bourbon is technically defined as: a spirit, distilled from a fermented mash of grain which is at least 52% and not more than 79% corn; distilled at not more than 160 proof; withdrawn from the cistern room at the distillery at not more than 125 proof and not less than 80 proof, and aged for not less than two years in new charred white oak containers.”

I’ll bet most of you didn’t know that the subject of booze was so complicated and that there is so much to learn about it, did you? I would like to relate here what Mr. Lewis has to say about scotch (the poor man’s bourbon) on page 80, but I fear the information is so shocking you might suffer a heart attack. I can’t be responsible for your heart, as my liver is more than enough responsibility for me.

But now I know that you know that I really know what I claim to know! I became a Doggtor of Alcohology by studying the experts like Mr. Jack Lewis, by graduating from a bartending school, by touring every whiskey distillery in Kentucky, and by drinking my way out of a brown paper bag. I could throw up all kinds of alcohol facts that would amaze you.

According to page 1 of The Dictionary Of Cultural Literacy, “The Bible, the holy book of Judaism and Christianity, is the most widely known book in the English-speaking world. It is divided into two main parts, commonly called the Old Testament and the New Testament. … No one in the English-speaking world can be considered literate without a basic knowledge of the Bible.”

Sorta makes you want to treat The Bible with more respect, doesn't it? My two favorite verses in The Bible are: "As a dog returns to his own vomit, so a fool repeats his folly” (Proverbs 26:11) and [God] “bring[s] forth … wine that makes glad the heart of man” (Psalm 104:14 & 15). The Bible doesn’t mention martinis, but sometimes it’s necessary to drink between the lines.

The reason I created this Blog Bit series titled ‘Sex, Tattoos, & Violence R Us’ to begin with was so I could post several Quick Hitting comments all together – brief items that wouldn’t by themselves justify an independent posting. I have found, however, that by including too many brief items within a single issue of ‘S T & V R Us’, that the whole thing is becoming a dreaded chore for me. Each issue has become a major project unto itself, not unlike my regular Blog Bits, which I hesitate to compose and you hesitate to read. This, of course, defeats the whole point of the ‘S T & V R Us’ project. So, beginning with the next installment of ‘S T & V R Us’, each segment of the series will include at least three or four separate items but no more than seven. . . . I mean, if that’s OK with you.

A little over 15 months ago, I commented in a post on my other Blog, ‘STUFFS’, that I was certain tennis superstar Serena Williams was using steroids and/or Human Growth Hormone (HGH). This was totally obvious to me, but when I did a Google search at that time, I did not find where anyone else was making that accusation online. OK, I know I’m sometimes “out there”, but I had no idea I could be so far ahead of the curve.

Serena Williams could not develop the sort of pumped musculature she exhibits without chemical enhancement; the female body just does not naturally produce enough testosterone for that. The last time I saw a photograph of Serena’s sister, Venus, she had the build of a female tennis player. So how did Serena, swimming and peeing in the same gene pool, wind up with the body of Cassius Clay?

According to page 2 of the September 23rd Arizona Republic newspaper, “It’s hard to figure out how Serena has time for tennis, she posts so often” on Well, yes, and it’s even more difficult to figure out how she finds the time to maintain that muscular build AND practice Tennis AND Twitter!

Of course, steroids and HGH cut way down on the amount of time one needs to spend pumping iron in order to build muscle. I think there’s your answer! It doesn’t take a rocket scientist or even a chemist to see that Serena has been dipping into the chemistry set for some time now. In some towns, they call that “cheating”, but Tennis is such a prissy little sport that just the thought of one of its superstars cheating would cause it to collapse from shock (not to mention the cries of “Racism!” that would develop if the sport undertook a serious investigation into Serena’s background).

In a match against Kim Clijsters on Saturday, September 12th, Serena erupted into such an exaggerated, demonstrative emotional outburst at being called for a foot fault that it caught the sporting world’s attention and resulted in a large monetary fine. Yeah, maybe Serena overreacted when she smashed her tennis racket and shouted to the line judge something about “shoving a tennis ball” down her “throat.” My first thought was the obvious one: ‘Roid Rage.’ That’s the irrational anger that is known to sometimes occur when a person’s normal chemical balance is upset by the introduction of foreign chemicals such as steroids. There is no reliable test for Human Growth Hormone, so athletes can (and I’m sure many do) use HGH without worry of being caught. And cycling on and off steroids can go on for quite some time before a positive test surfaces.

When I first suggested that pitcher Eric Gagne was using steroids and/or HGH, my suspicion was dismissed out-of-hand, but three or four years later, his cheating became common knowledge. I once wrote, “Mark my words, eventually it will be common knowledge that Barry Bonds was using steroids.” That also came to pass shortly thereafter. Well, now I’m saying the same thing about Sweet Serena: Mark my words, one day she will take her place in the Hall Of Shame amongst all the other chemical cheats like Bonds, Gagne, A-Rod, McGwire, Sosa, et al.

Disregarding Serena’s unnatural, masculine build is like trying to ignore an elephant on the court that is wearing a skimpy white tennis skirt and holding a tennis racket in its trunk. Google “Serena Williams” along with “steroids” or “‘roid rage” today and you will get a massive amount of internet feedback to explore. I guess I was just ahead of my time when it came to this subject, but it seems the secret to Serena’s competitive edge is no longer quite so hush-hush. But if someone doesn’t stop Serena soon, there will be no steroids left for Major League Baseball!

Rarely do I go spoiling for a fight with a Leftist. I’m generally content to just say my piece, let the maroons say theirs, and then move along. However, the Leftist continuing to malign the reputation of Senator Joseph McCarthy is the Leftist who has gotten on the fighting side of me.

Earlier this month, I somehow found myself at the Blog of a Leftist calling himself Existentialist Cowboy. He has a very popular Blog here at this site where he inundates his viewpoints in allergy-bloomin’, flowery, mind-numbing verbiage meant to confuse the reader into mistaking quantity for quality and ascribing to the writer a superintelligence he really doesn’t possess. Ex-Cow quotes a wide variety of sources endlessly and just drones on and on until his poor, brain-dead Leftist readers shout out “Our Savior!” It seems to work for him because his Blog boasts many “Followers.”

Well, I would have simply ignored Existentialist Cowboy except that I saw where he lists ‘Good Night And Good Luck’ as a favorite movie. It’s been a long time since I’ve had the opportunity to knock the snot out of a Leftist in debate over Senator Joseph McCarthy and “McCarthyism.” So, I submitted a comment to one of his Blog installments. I figured he would allow my comment to post because he had allowed previous antagonistic comments from other readers to post and because his self-description includes this: “Lee Holloway, ahead of her time, awakened my love of debate.” I hoped he would post my comment and then reply to it so I could guide us into the subject of McCarthy and then figuratively knock his sorry butt out of the ring in front of his “Followers.”

Here’s the comment I submitted to his Blog Bit titled ‘Soylent Red, White And Blue’:

EX-COW combines absolute truth like this:

>>[“Divide and conquer is the oldest tactic in the book. This strategy is playing out right now as the guardians of the oligarchy use their bought and paid for corporate media pulpits to propagandize and deceive.]<<

with nonsense like this:

>>[“President Barack Obama, a man whose chief shortcoming is in failing to as yet realize the doomed naïve futility of a bi-partisan peace with those whose goal is the further destruction of the American working classes”]<<

That’s USAP’s “chief shortcoming”, is it? I could think of far more (and actually truthful) egregious shortcomings. Let’s start with the fact that USAP knows EXACTLY what he is doing (naïve my butt!), and that he has been personally selected by The Elite (e.g., Bilderbergers, The Fed’s Monopoly Money Manipulator’s, etc.) to do what he does.

EX-COW seems to save most of his vituperation for only one side of the destructive political coin. There are two equally evil puppets being operated by one satanic puppeteer. How can EX-COW’s analysis be so spot on in one paragraph (e.g., the schemes of FOX News) and so derailed from truth in the next paragraph? Like M_astera before me, I must conclude that EX-COW is A SHILL OR A FOOL. Only he's too educated to be a fool.

And God bless Bruce for this: >>[“the commie press vilified joe mc carthy because he was right when he said our government was riddled with commie traitors. it still is and now we have a commie racist in the white house.”]<<

EX-COW has 118 “Followers”, eh? Hmmm... I used to wonder if perhaps most of my Blog Bits were too wordy, and that scared off potential readers. But EX-COW makes most of my posts seem like Twitter “Tweets.” I now realize I just don’t spread enough “fertilizer” in my Blog Bits to make “Followers” grow.

I wonder when our USAP (Undocumented Socialist Acting As President) is going to put THIS problem on his Fix-It list:

"OUR MONETARY MAYHEM BEGAN WITH THE FED" by James Perloff; 2009, April 02. (*Google it!*)

~ "Lonesome Dogg" McCarthy
When this comment failed to appear below Existentialist Cowboy’s Blog Bit, I resubmitted it, giving him the benefit of the doubt, just in case a bug in the system had eaten my submission before it got to him. But when he still refused to post my comment, I sent Cowardly Cowboy this personal note:

September 14, 2009:
Hey, no problemo, Slowpoke Cowpoke. You refuse to post my comment? That's OK. But don't forget that I can (and will) post on my own Blog the very same thing that you would not. There's more than one way to skin a pseudo-intellectual Leftist. (Aww, I'm being redundant.) But I can't help wondering where your "love of debate" is HIDING.

<"As a dog returns to his own vomit,

so a fool repeats his folly."
~ Proverbs 26:11>

I don’t know this, but I suspect that Cowardly Cowboy, the puss in boots, took a look at this Blog of mine and realized that he was cruisin’ for a bruisin’ if he mixed it up with me. Certainly he would have noticed my love for Joseph McCarthy, and if he investigated deeper, he would have recognized that he was going to be publicly humbled if he tried to debate me about The Good Senator and so-called “McCarthyism.” Well, I’ll at least give the Cowardly Cowboy credit for being smart enough not to take the bait.

On Sunday, September 13th, in a game against the Cleveland Dawgs, Minnesota Vikings running back Adrian Peterson made an exceptional 64-yard touchdown run. Commenting on the run after the game, Peterson said, “It was pretty good. The only thing I did wrong was I didn’t go untouched.” Got that? Here’s a running back playing against the best football players in the entire world, and he thinks he should be able to make 64-yard touchdown runs without a defender so much as laying a hand on him. Now that is ARROGANCE, BABY! That’s the sort of attitude that has greatly contributed to my increasing disinterest in sports over the last couple of decades. Marcia! Marcia! Marcia! Adrian! Adrian! Adrian!

RON VS. C.F.R. S.O.B.s
Congressman Ron Paul has really got the bastards sweating . . . and I LOVE IT!

The New American magazine reported in September of last year that Hallmark greeting card company senior spokeswoman SARAH GRONBERG KOLELL announced the company’s decision to begin marketing same-sex wedding cards. “It’s our goal to be as relevant as possible to as many people as we can.”

Well, I immediately put Hallmark on my personal “Businesses Boycotted” list. Fortunately for me, however, there’s a shop near where I live that carries an extensive line of Avanti Press greeting cards, and I have begun to patronize them almost exclusively. In my opinion, these are some of the best, most humorous greeting cards being produced today.

Here’s one of the world’s most puzzling questions: Why is it that when you are stuck in a line of cars at an intersection, waiting at a red light, the ONLY driver who isn’t paying attention to the light when it turns to green is the VERY FIRST DRIVER in the line of cars at the traffic signal? It seems it’s always the first driver - whom every other driver in the line is counting on to be attentive - who is picking his nose and daydreaming when the light goes from red to green. >HONK!-HONK!< “You wanna move yer azz, Buddy? Some of us have places to go!”
I turned 50 years old last month. The other day I was supposed to ask a coworker if he would work for me on a particular day in which I’m ordinarily scheduled. I told myself: As soon as I go back to my desk, I must write a note so I don’t forget to ask him next time I see him. Unfortunately, because I neglected to write the note, I also neglected to ask my coworker about working for me. In other words, I’m now so absent-minded that I can’t even remember to write myself a reminder!

My friend Arlee Bird posted the following on his new Blog, 'Tossing It Out':

>>[I just always find it somewhat ironic when I hear something like the Police or the Clash being fed to us aurally as we perform our accumulations of product in the grocery store or elsewhere.]<<

I remarked:

I’ve had similar thoughts and commented on that to others as well. Not much makes me feel so past my prime as when I find myself grocery shopping to what was once considered my “teenage counterculture music.” That is just a strange experience. It could be worse though… we could be Pete Townshend or Roger Daltrey reaching for a bottle of Geritol on the shelf while the grocery store is playing “...hope I die before I get old!”

A man named Richard Shinn wrote a letter to the editor of The New American which the magazine published in its July 20th edition. In his letter, Mr. Shinn wrote in part:

… In the year 2009, blind allegiance to the flag is a real problem for our cause of resistance to tyranny. With such a powerful mechanism as “allegiance to a flag” firmly established, the destroyers of freedom have a very reliable ally. Ultimately, all that is required is to systematically redefine the values of what it means to be an American, and then let the emotionally induced patriotic impulses respond to the stimulus of carefully placed symbols of freedom. For ths, the American flag is the supreme device. … Tyrannical progress, without resistance, is made possible through carefully orchestrated mind control. The flag mechanism is extremely effective in today’s world where most Americans know very little about the Constitution, or have any real concept of what it means to be an American.

For the purpose of clarity, I have rewritten a well-known pledge, the American Pledge of Allegiance for the 21st Century:

I pledge allegiance to the Constitution of the United States of America. And to the republic for which it stands, as one nation of individual states. United in liberty under God, with justice, freedom, and God-given rights protected for all.

Good work, Mr. Shinn!

Somehow, I found myself one day reading a Blog by a guy who calls himself SLACKER PROPHET. Slacker describes himself as: “a 6'7" healer/freestyle rapper. My goal is to internalize oneness instead of merely pondering oneness. … If you think that you recognize me then you probably do, so don't doubt yourself. I dance like a madman manic. It appears to the unknowing observer that I might be having a seizure. Thank God I don't drool too much at the mouth.”

I’m not sure what all that means, but I believe it indicates that he hangs out every day at Venice Beach and dances for change which he later converts into Thunderbird. I could be mistaken though. Maybe what he does is just too esoteric for my constricted mind.

But what really got my attention was how Slacker Prophet titled one of his Blog Bits “Seriously, I Need An Editor” and to my amazement, some woman left a comment in which she offered to become his editor, and some guy left a comment offering Slacker Prophet a part in a movie he’s making. Can it really be this easy? Have I been busting my butt all my life when all I ever really needed to do was ask for what I wanted? Just “Name It And Claim It”?

Well, I figure there’s no harm in asking; the worst that can happen is that people continue to ignore me. So, I’m going to try Slacker Prophet’s technique and see if it works equally well for me. I’m just going to axe for what I want and see if anyone ups it. Here it is: Seriously, I need a beautiful bartenderette to make love to me during the two hours in a day when she’s not making martinis for me.

Well? Where my woman be?

~ Stephen T. McCarthy

Back Issues:

Forerunner to S. T. & V. R US:
7 Remastered RANDOM THOUGHTS + 1 Previously Unreleased BONUS TRACK And 1 ALTERNATE TAKE


  1. "EX-COW has 118 “Followers”, eh? Hmmm... I used to wonder if perhaps most of my Blog Bits were too wordy, and that scared off potential readers. But EX-COW makes most of my posts seem like Twitter “Tweets.” I now realize I just don’t spread enough “fertilizer” in my Blog Bits to make “Followers” grow."

    Most Fertilizers are made of manure. So if Ex-cow spreads a lot of s**t than he will of course have a lot of followers. Americans love their bulls**t.

  2. "Well, I figure there’s no harm in asking; the worst that can happen is that people continue to ignore me. So, I’m going to try Slacker "Prophet’s technique and see if it works equally well for me. I’m just going to axe for what I want and see if anyone ups it. Here it is: Seriously, I need a beautiful bartenderette to make love to me during the two hours in a day when she’s not making martinis for me.

    Well? Where my woman be?"

    Sure thing buddy. I know just the women. If you could just send a cashiers check to Nigeria she will come right over. After she arrives I'll be sure to return your funds. After all, everything in life is free.

  3. >>[Most Fertilizers are made of manure. So if Ex-cow spreads a lot of s**t than he will of course have a lot of followers. Americans love their bulls**t.]<<

    BR'ER MARC...
    EXACTLY what I had in mind when I used the "spreading fertilizer" phrase. Don't sell your old friend too short, eh?
    Love (JW!),
    ~ Stephen, Doggtor Of Accidental Wit

  4. This comment has been removed by the author.

  5. To ALL:
    I received the following this morning from my friend The Flying Aardvark and she gave me permission to post it here. This is doggone good stuffs.
    ~ Stephenboy

    Good Morning, Pal:

    I read your latest Blog installment under FFFF, and thought you might appreciate this article in light of your brief riff on grammar and punctuation. Somewhat Ogden Nash-ish. Hope you are enjoying your weekend.

    -Jack Winter/The New Yorker

    It had been a rough day, so when I walked into the party I was very
    chalant, despite my efforts to appear gruntled and consolate.

    I was furling my wieldy umbrella for the coat check when I saw her
    standing alone in a corner. She was a descript person, a woman in a
    state of total array. Her hair was kempt, her clothing shevelled, and
    she moved in a gainly way.

    I wanted desperately to meet her, but I knew I'd have to make bones
    about it since I was travelling cognito. Beknownst to me, the hostess, whom I could see both hide and hair of, was very proper, so it would be skin off my nose if anything bad happened. And even though I had only swerving loyalty to her, my manners couldn't be peccable. Only toward and heard-of behavior would do.

    Fortunately, the embarrassment that my maculate appearance might
    cause was evitable. There were two ways about it, but the chances that
    someone as flappable as I would be ept enough to become persona grata or a sung hero were slim. I was, after all, something to sneeze at, someone you could easily hold a candle to, someone who usually aroused bridled passion.

    So I decided not to risk it. But then, all at once, for some apparent reason, she looked in my direction and smiled in a way that I could make heads or tails of.

    I was plussed. It was concerting to see that she was communicado,
    and it nerved me that she was interested in a pareil like me, sight seen. Normally, I had a domitable spirit, but, being corrigible, I felt capacitated--as if this were something I was great shakes at--and forgot that I had succeeded in situations like this only a told number of times. So, after a terminable delay, I acted with mitigated gall and made my way through the ruly crowd with strong givings.

    Nevertheless, since this was all new hat to me and I had no time to
    prepare a promptu speech, I was petuous. Wanting to make only called-for remarks, I started talking about the hors d'oeuvres, trying to abuse her of the notion that I was sipid, and perhaps even bunk a few myths about myself.

    She responded well, and I was mayed that she considered me a savory character who was up to some good. She told me who she was. "What a perfect nomer," I said, advertently. The conversation become more and more choate, and we spoke at length to much avail. But I was defatigable, so I had to leave at a godly hour. I asked if she wanted to come with me. To my delight, she was committal. We left the party together and have been together ever since. I have given her my love, and she has requited it.

  6. This was darn funny just like the stuff on your STUFFS, but insightful and smart as well. I didn't rush to this blog cause you referred to it I think as your "politcal blog" and I'm getting a political headache from all the politcal input I get from everywhere-- but I just can't stop putting it in my aging brain. Then when I saw you had given me a plug for my blog I had to check it out (thanks for the plug-- hope I can reciprocate sometime) and discovered that this blog of yours is fun and not at all headache inducing at all. Too bad you can't get that Cowboy's followers to follow your blogs instead. Then again, you'd probably have to spending most of your time dealing with all sorts of dumb comments, refutations, and insults. Anyhow, now you got me following this blog as well.

  7. Howdy, Arlee Bird ~
    Is it true that the Arlee Bird gets the worm?

    I’m pleased to learn that you like what you’ve read so far. It certainly beats the alternative.

    But make no mistake about it, this is indeed a political Blog. A politically incorrect Blog to be more precise. And despite the occasional attempt to lighten it up with a dash of humor and a pinch of doofusness, every Blog Bit has an undercurrent of anger to go with its overtone of disgust. Unless of course it has an undercurrent of disgust and an angry overtone. Well, I mean, except for those Blog Bits that have an undercurrent of sick & tired and an overtone of black & blue. Hmmm... or is that a sick & tired overtone with a disgusted undercurrent transported by an angry chauffeur with a black & blue tuxedo? At any rate, there’s certainly no pinks involved and contentment is strictly banned. Well, you get the idea. At least I hope you do because I haven’t the slightest idea what I’m talking about here; I only write what the voices in my head dictate to me.

    >>[(thanks for the plug-- hope I can reciprocate sometime)]<<

    You’re certainly welcome. And while I appreciate the thought, I’m afraid it would take more than a couple of plugs to keep my Blogs from sinking. I should have named them PLAGUE 1 and PLAGUE 2.

    >>[Too bad you can't get that Cowboy's followers to follow your blogs instead.]<<

    Oh, his Followers wouldn’t be able to handle the truth of this Blog. You see they are accustomed to the usual paradigm for political Blogs. That is: “Democrats good; Republicans bad.” Then of course there’s the equally wrongheaded paradigm: “Republicans good; Democrats bad.” This Blog of mine deals strictly in the truth and a third kind of paradigm: “Constitutionalists good; Democrats & Republicans bad.” And that’s more than the Americonned People can handle. Scares ‘em too much to open BOTH eyes underwater and confront the fact that BOTH political parties are secretly controlled by The Elite and are opposed to the liberty of We The People.

    Well, I’d better run for now, Friend – the voices have begun speaking again and I must take this down.

    ~ Stephen, Doggtor Of Accidental Wit


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