In Time of Great Distress

It boggles the mind that I can buy a fully functional kitchen appliance... say a "hand blender" (a horrific moniker if I've ever heard one), for less than $20. The sheer amount of energy that goes into creating such a thing.

Feels like I'm buying it on credit even if I pay cash.

I'm immersed in the errata of industrial life. Basically have to blind myself to it to even get passed the first thirty seconds of my morning. Must step around the 16 ton gorilla to reach the toothbrush.

We are ripe for change. Deep, meaningful, change. The kind that makes electing a president akin to a new haircut.

And... what the hell is a bilge pickle?

Sap me of my strength.

500 nuances of IS per second.

Perception wilts like a stranded puppy mewling in the Walmart parking lot.

Expectations watermark my senses as I crawl, begging at the coattails of doubt.


Reality has no trouble with paradox.

Pssst.... there seems to be something amiss with my knuckle.

Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the moistened bint.

The slack jaw returns... pumice in hand. May your lick spittle remember his pablum.

mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
zoomquilt

In so many Words.

Et, le mot juste.

http://evilevilclown.blogspot.com/2005/11/corporate-clown-shares-free-letter-of.html

The Crab Nebulan Cometh or A Clown Held my Breath.

An ode to the Lowly Clam.

Oi you there, clam! put that cherry tree down and walk like a thespian damn you!

How dare you promelgate that tripe at my respected audience.

Or soemthing like that.

Worship the Graven Clown Image.

In the Idol in your mind, make obeisance to the Harlequin.

Offer up your certainties for sacrifice for the sake of the your meta sanity. And for laughs.

If you haven't seen the film Old Boy you should. Like jumping into a northern ontario lake in February, it'll take a while to catch your breath. I couldn't help but think of the villain as Loki. It was beautiful and horrible and wonderful. A treatise on the turn, or the trick.

Effects of the Clown Gene Completely Unpredictable.

Clown Fated to Prove Free Will

Chuckles into sleeves assail us, the Trickster Messiah is risen. What's up dock?

Do you remember the eleventh hour? When the panting was on us hard and long? When the fallen angels couldn't scratch between the ears without some offending comb smeller tweaking their protruberences. Get ready to see it all again, but this time, it will not end in a whisper. It will end in an eruption of seltzer to drown all the straight men.

Keen on scribblings.

Conspicuous co Clowns

If it weren't for olives in martinis, I'd never fit in my clown shoes.

Neither would these clowns:
Litotes
Pentwhistle
Lunatics both and worth the livid peruse.

Have been to busy trying to convince children to convince their parents to buy them poison, to blog. I resolve to address this most aggregious lapse.