I have actually done a couple of these and I am still here.
Da Walrus n’ Da Carpenter
(from Through tha Looking-Glass n’ What Alice Found There, 1872)
Da sun was shinin on tha sea,
Shinin wit all his crazy-ass might:
Dude did his straight-up dopest ta make
Da billows smooth n’ bright–
And dis was odd, cuz it was
Da middle of tha night.
Da moon was shinin sulkily,
Because her ass thought tha sun
Had gotz no businizz ta be there
Afta tha dizzle was done–
“Itz straight-up rude of him,” her ass holla’d,
“To come n’ spoil tha fun!”
Da sea was wet as wet could be,
Da sandz was dry as dry.
Yo Ass could not peep a cloud, cuz
No cloud was up in tha sky:
No birdz was flyin overhead–
There was no birdz ta fly.
Da Walrus n’ tha Carpenter
Were struttin close at hand;
They wept like anythang ta see
Such quantitizzlez of sand:
“If dis was only cleared away,”
They holla’d, “it would be grand!”
“If seven maidz wit seven mops
Swept it fo’ half a year.
Do yo ass suppose,” tha Walrus holla’d,
“That they could git it clear?”
“I doubt it,” holla’d tha Carpenter,
And shed a bitta tear.
“O Oysters, come n’ strutt wit us!”
Da Walrus did beseech.
“A pleasant strutt, a pleasant talk,
Along tha briny beach:
Our thugged-out asses cannot do wit mo’ than four,
To give a hand ta each.”
Da eldest Oysta looked at him,
But never a word he holla’d:
Da eldest Oysta winked his wild lil’ fuckin eye,
And shook his heavy head–
Meanin ta say he did not choose
To leave tha oyster-bed.
But four lil’ Oystas hurried up,
All eager fo’ tha treat:
Their coatz was brushed, they faces washed,
Their shoes was clean n’ neat–
And dis was odd, cuz, yo ass know,
They hadn’t any feet.
Four other Oystas followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick n’ fast they came at last,
And more, n’ more, n’ more–
All hoppin all up in tha frothy waves,
And scramblin ta tha shore.
Da Walrus n’ tha Carpenter
Walked on a mile and so,
And then they rested on a rock
And all tha lil Oystas stood
And waited up in a row.
“Da time has come,” tha Walrus holla’d,
“To rap of nuff thangs:
Of shoes–and shizzles–and sealing-wax–
Of cabbages–and kings–
And why tha sea is boilin hot–
And whether pigs have wings.”
“But wait a bit,” tha Oystas cried,
“Before our crazy-ass asses have our chat;
For a shitload of our asses is up of breath,
And all of our asses is fat!”
“No hurry!” holla’d tha Carpenter.
They gave props ta his ass much fo’ that.
“A loaf of bread,” tha Walrus holla’d,
“Is what tha fuck our crazy-ass asses chizzlely need:
Peppa n’ vinegar besides
Is straight-up phat indeed–
Now if yo ass is ready, Oystas dear,
Our thugged-out asses can begin ta feed.”
“But not on us!” tha Oystas cried,
Turnin a lil blue.
“Afta such kindness, dat would be
A dismal muthafuckin thang ta do!”
“Da night is fine,” tha Walrus holla’d.
“Do yo ass admire tha view?
“It was so kind of yo ass ta come!
And yo ass is straight-up nice!”
Da Carpenta holla’d not a god damn thang but
“Cut our asses another slice:
I wish yo ass was not like so deaf–
I’ve had ta ask yo ass twice!”
“It seems a muthafucka,” tha Walrus holla’d,
“To play em such a trick,
Afta we’ve brought em up so far,
And done cooked up em trot so quick!”
Da Carpenta holla’d not a god damn thang but
“Da butterz spread too thick!”
“I weep fo’ you,” tha Walrus holla’d:
“I deeply sympathize.”
With sobs n’ tears he sorted out
Those of tha phattest size,
Holdin his thugged-out lil’ pocket-handkerchizzle
Before his streamin eyes.
“O Oysters,” holla’d tha Carpenter,
“You’ve had a pleasant run!
Shall our crazy-ass asses be trottin home again?’
But answer came there none–
And dis was scarcely odd, cuz
They’d smoked every last muthafuckin one.
I went out for a walk yesterday with my dogs around the neighborhood. For some reason I have a compulsion to photograph mushrooms and mushroom-like stuff, although I have never had a perfect boob mushroom like Jenny, aka the bloggess.
(Too lazy to link at the moment even thought it is recent.) Mine, if they look like boobs at all, are old granny boobs or bad plastic surgery.
But yesterday I came across some fascinating fungi that shows you just how powerful and fast evolution can work. Here is an example of a fungi whose fruiting body looks just like a tennis ball, and here is another. Amazing.
This transformation will result in small children picking them up aiding in the dispersal of its spores. Even more efficient is when they are tossed into the air and hit with a tennis racket. WHAM! Far more efficient than being dispersed at ground level like the rest of the fungi.
But this one has me puzzled.
Why does it look like a disposable cup. What possible evolutionary advantage does that have. Still working on it.
This is a photo of lichen on a fence. If you squint and turn your head slightly it looks just like a founding father, George Washington or Thomas Jefferson, I cannot make up my mind yet.
(Note: I lied. It looks like lichen on a wooden fence. Those could be GW’s teeth. He should have brushed more often and flossed!)
I may not have found my fungus boob yet but I still think it is a Win-Win for me and Jenny.
This is a response to Jenny Lawson’s video advertising her new book, “Let’s Pretend this Never Happened.” So this ruminated around in my head for a few minutes and I found it very entertaining and amusing – and I believe I am the only one who think this. Since no one reads this blog but me, I will look back on this and giggle and wonder why it was not universally praised.
A conspiracy going back over two millennium has recently been uncovered. Documents written in Hebrew, Aramaic, Greek and Coptic show a pattern among Early Christian Bishop and Rabbinical councils to independently redact humorous sections of the what is known as the New and Old Testaments. Discovery of the documents involved an extensive search of early Vatican, Orthodox, Coptic and Synagogues records. Early church authorities believed that a more serious tone was required for the sermons and that “the funny bits” were a distraction. One early Bishop’s letter complains that the urine odor after the preaching of these passages was just overwhelming the following week.
Preliminary reviews of these documents by Biblical scholars state that the humor is wide-ranging and translates remarkable well, even the ancient puns. “It is as if it were divinely inspired!” one translator was overheard saying. Another scholar confidentially said she understood why so much had been hidden. There are these stories of Jesus as a practical joker. He was particularly fond of raising-the-dead during a funeral service and seeing the histrionic reactions of the relatives.
The religious authorities and secular scholars agree on that all work shall remain unpublished until the full codex is available. Even so the sniping has already begun. One Vatican Cardinal has been reported to say that “the Jews has been secretly using this material for centuries and that accounts for the phenomenal success rate as comedians.” The only item that the scholars agree on is that once this material is published, the Bible will be the funniest book ever!
Now I ponder why I am the only one who thinks this is funny:
- It’s not funny and I am warped
- It is too sophisticated
- Lack of fart jokes, which is really the same as above
- It’s funny; no one has seen it.
- People take religion way to seriously!
- Just buy her book if you actually want to laugh.
MIL: Oh, Jesus, Mary and Joseph, my television is on the blink.
Ms. Mousebert: What’s wrong now mother?
MIL: I don’t know. It started acting funny, so I started pushing all the buttons on the control thingy and then on the TV and cable box, and now all I get is static. I’ve tried disconnecting things and plugging things back in.
Ms. Mousebert: Well you did the right thing, because when you have a problem the first thing you should do is push all the buttons you have no idea what they may do and start disconnecting and plugging then back into God knows where, instead of calling me first.
MIL: Well that makes me feel better. I thought I might have screwed it up.
OK, I received this by email and I have been sharing it with friends. For some reason gmail can mess with jpegs and I keep forgetting that.