Wednesday, October 6, 2010

Cats: Spirit Releasement for Meowpolis

        At one time the cat was considered the guardian spirit of a house! Yes! I swear one time the cat almost touched the 10 foot ceilings. But that's what we mean when we talk about Spirit! How Refreshingly Spacious!
        The 10-foot ceilings are simply arrived at by jumping. Isn’t that amazing? The 10-Foot Ceilings Make it Feel Even Larger. Right. I'm jealous of all the 10 foot ceilings. I have 8 foot ceilings.
        Despite that, I generally talk about Spirit Releasement. Which usually happens when you jump. Like for example:
        One time, the cat jumped on my ex-boyfriend's leg and bit him. I thought it was possibly Spirit Releasement. One time the cat clawed the heck out of my face, yep, Spirit Releasement and then another time on the doorstep, one time, the cat drug a brick -- a curlyhaired child sat, puzzling over the convolutions of a tangled string. Probably not Spirit Releasement.
        This morning i found that she had drug a brick out from somewhere -- after she allegedly was driving a truck that ran over and dragged a brick mailbox along Hamacher Street. (We have a lot of pictures of dogs driving cars, now here is one for all the cat lovers out there. This cat is taking a drive. NOTE: New York driver cat will b flippin u off in about 2 seconds.)
        And her purring? It’s the sound you would hear if you dragged a brick across concrete. Don’t know why; didn’t really care.
        So, this next part’s about my Grandpa and the cat: At one time the cat stayed around the back -- stayed around the back of the roof, where no one could see. I stayed around the back-middle section, frequently thinking to myself, you know, that Grandpa always stayed around the back. I was, like, you know, laughing so much at Grandpa and the cat. Then Grandpa dragged a brick out of the hole and threw it to the side.
        One time the cat peed on the convertible handles of my car. Now that was a vindictive cat. Well, yes, I peed on the baby... but it was a total accident and not an act of revenge for the multiple times she had peed on me. I was trying to entertain the _______. "I'm trying to entertain,” I exclaimed to the crowd. (NOTE: I'd highly advise against making jokes or trying to entertain the crowd unless you know what you are doing.)
        This next part's about Arthur and Romaine.
        “Now I’m going to go into business with my cat: Unique Peed On Floor Designs. With very fast shipping.” said Arthur.
        “But please don't give my cats any ideas -- aaahh, we don't need any pee outside the litter box,” begged Romaine.
        “Hey! Here’s our Unique Design Cat Waterer, made from a can,” said Arthur. “The amount of water your cat needs to drink each day depends a lot ... depends a lot on luck... For example: There may come a time when you run out of kitty litter and are unable to get to the store. The following steps will allow you to turn this litter crisis around. Go to your paper shredder and remove the shreddings from the bin. If you don't have shredded paper, you can shred newspaper, junk mail and used paper bags. If you don't have a shredder, you can simply rip these items up. IF you don't have any paper laying around but DO have a nice can of Coke just sitting next to you...take the can, make sure it's empty, poke a couple holes and you’re good to ‘go’ (heh heh),” said Arthur calmly.
        "Why, the idea of it! ...” said Romaine. "I don't know."
        "I'm not certain," said Arthur, undaunted. "The roof may not fall down yet.” (NOTE: Does a ten foot high ceiling take longer to fall than an eight foot ceiling?)
        “But should I really poke a couple holes in them?” said Romaine. “I haven't tried it, but this looks like one of those ‘wear clothes’ situations.”
        (For most cats, wearing clothing is unpleasant to say the least.)
        “Well, that depends a lot on what precisely you mean,” said Arthur again.
        “If you're saying that you don't need any... well, we already have enough laws about discrimination and individual rights on the books now and we don't need any pee pee preference laws,” exclaimed Romaine.
        Hey! here’s some more cat stories! In the woods one time, the cat rubbed around me, jumped into the undergrowth and one time the cat got so excited she peed on the chair.
        One time the cat came over and bit Ruby, my sister.
            And bit.
            Ruby gasped.
            And bit Ruby on the leg. I was yelling.
            And bit Ruby on the nose. No, not me, stupid, the cat.
        We had this cat one time, the cat was a cool cat, don't get me wrong, but. Don't get me wrong but it was terribly too slow. In fact, one time the cat threw up, and I ... One time the cat had gotten up in the mattress. I suppose what she meant was...but then she explained that what she meant was that she didn't know anyone else. What she meant was she didn't want to have to listen to me talking.
        Oh, and there was that one time the cat sat down on my command? But it was just that one time. OK, twice. But that's it.

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

          A Waste of Ink is a Mistake, Priscilla!

      Can anybody give me some advice please! Would it be a big mistake or would it be the best thing I’ve ever done? `Would it be a mistake to             reveal these things about my past? Now and then I make a mistake and waste a lot of ink.
      A massive mistake and waste of time!

      People are looking at each other like human beings. Like human beings not numbers. Would it be a big mistake if I go there and talk? A lot of people are looking at each other trying to figure out what to do; people are looking at each other waiting for an answer; people are looking at each other and muttering. People are looking at each other suspiciously.

      Would it be a mistake if I said "The people are looking at each other"? But would it be a big mistake? A big mistake and waste. A massive mistake and waste of time.

      Well, I am sure you noticed. I am sure you noticed a little acceleration. I'm sure you noticed that Danny's chest was rising and falling; You know who I am. I make a mistake and waste a lot -- southerners drop more litter than northerners. Single people drop more litter than married people, so...?

      I am sure you noticed that Southerners drop more than just an unaccented vowel. What we see here is the disease in its advanced stages. People are looking at each other waiting for an answer. I'm not sure you noticed, but everyone within earshot is shocked. People are looking at each other!
      By the way, I'm sure you noticed the missing space in the first row. But that's where I was coming from; that's where I was. That's where I was for a while – so I could just get up and read my note ... ride the wave of one great noise of clapping.
      This thing I am reading, that I am making, is more connected to the initial sentence than to you.

      Repetition of a single, simple sentence pattern draws attention to itself. How do you use juxtapose in a sentence? Juxtapose means to place two things side by side to compare and contrast them. This is what I am doing. I'm sure you noticed the missing space in the first sentence? In any case, I'm pretty sure you noticed me because you sort of glanced at me and I saw you smile. Fortunately your glance came when I noticed the same thing. I'm pretty sure you did, and I'm also sure you noticed that nothing is in the missing space in the first row. Look! Look! I am sure you noticed me. Because I noticed you.

      Again a call for noise from the crowd! Please, when we call for noise barrage, when we call for noise levels in bedrooms, even in theory call for noise, this is a call for noise from the crowd! Do they? Did they? What about if we can only squeak out a pitiful little noise?
      There are times in our lives that call for noise. But if the occasion calls for noise, these craft ideas will definitely do the trick: Macrame, crochet, doubleknit stitch, doctor, endocrinologist, sous chef, witch!
      I am nervous about what might happen if I have to call for noise again. The last call for noise attracted neophyte music composers from as far away as Romania. They protested the federal call for noise walls, saying they are ugly and would create a tunnel.
      All the boys ran through the door in the side of the tunnel.

      There are times in our lives that call for noise. There are times in our lives when everything clicks. And, there are times in our lives when a symbol chooses us. Suppose further that we choose a symbol. Then we choose a symbol and define it to be the unique element that is larger than all ... larger than all seven continents... larger than all others... larger than the heavens, larger than all the worlds together! a hell-like place for the unrighteous.

      “When the call came for a noise from the crowd, everybody grabbed what they could and ran through the door," said a man. “And all the boys ran through the door in the side of the tunnel!”
      In the side of the head? in the side of the neck? the side of the sun that we can't see?

      Now I'm filling the cracks that ran through the door. Then there was the night I ran through the door. Well that night started when Security ran through the door and grabbed both of the photographers. “Shall we toss ‘em, Priscilla? Shall we toss them both into a fire? Shall we toss them all out? Shall we toss them to the wolves?”

      Many protesters left their vehicles to walk into town on foot. They made what may have proved to be one of the wisest decisions in their lives -- they stopped, left their vehicles, and walked out. They left their vehicles and walked into the ice cream shop to sin against the LORD; they left their vehicles and walked into the ranks of milling and mingling warriors, Security, students and workers, protesters, journalists, employees, longshoremen, residents, photographers, a slightly overweight man in a business suit and thick dark mustache – they all left their vehicles and I'm sure you noticed the same thing. There were plenty of them. People are looking at each other like human beings. Four men left their families and walked to Vernon, where they found an empty two-room house they considered suitable. Lakes, streams, and deep ponds are not considered suitable. This is particularly true in deep ponds and large size deep ponds.
      At last, Federal authorities left their vehicles and walked deep into the brush to search for bodies. And then Ministers left their vehicles and walked up to the funeral site!
      All the journalists were talking into microphones. Bits of their broadcasts floated on the deep ponds and through the tunnels. The journalists said things such as:
        --“Particles will cling to the soft bristles and thistles and be hiding or nestled deep into the brush.”
        --“Later, they did some digging deep into the brush. There was a little pile of bones there”.
        --“Something must have took him deep into the brush where nobody could ... where nobody could.”
        --“Oh! Tell me, how deep into the brush does he stagger before he was led deep into the brush and felt strangely compelled to, to.” and
        --“Nevertheless, being thus strangely compelled, the man must have discended and focused on something he saw deep into the brush”.

      The officers left their vehicles and walked toward their fellow officer. Not knowing what might happen. However, knowing what might happen can often help you, you know? For example, Shakespeare knew what would happen as humans were treated differently than their insides supposed. Their insides -- raw in memory -- because their insides might fall out. But, we experience their insides.

      Catching things and eating their insides. That's what I hope. What did you think I was going to say, “That’s what I hope happens to me?” No! I think about all the spiders catching things and eating their insides. They are not saving them for later, they are in the process of dissolving their insides.
      What they do turns their insides into a liquid. Then they slurp it up .... turn their insides into liquid, which the spider sucks up.

      Can you explain to me how a solid can change into a liquid and then back to a solid again? Shakespeare knew what would happen if a spider was catching things and eating their insides. Did he not?

      People who were too far back to see what was going on had left their vehicles and walked close. Residents, hearing the commotion, clustered on the verge, looking while all the commotion was going on and even after.
      “What's causing all the commotion?” said one of the boys who had gone through the door in the side of the tunnel. “Where is noise control?”

      Many men left their families and walked miles from state to state in search of work. They just plum abandoned their families and walked out on their responsibilities. The rest abandoned their deeply held views. abandoned their nests, abandoned their pasturelands. They said goodbye to their families and walked in the cold dawn. “I lowered her to the floor,” he said, “and I ran through the door and gate. and out the front door of my office.” He ran through the door, his hands holding his hair down so that it did not fly away, leaving her on the floor.
      But the way Emily told it, Emily ran through the door herself. I don’t know.
      I prayed a prayer for them and for their families and walked back to my vehicle. By the way, I'm sure you noticed.

      Now and then I make a mistake and waste a lot of ink.

          And Then She Wrote

    I finished typing. It’s actually really short. We were chatting more and then she wrote...
    And then she wrote in a bold hand and turned the tiny light on it. And then she wrote 'What is it for?' And then she wrote to Ellen: "There were in his proposal," she said, "some things which might have proved a strong temptation. And then she wrote, "Michael, I love you.”
    It was her hand that held the pen. I married her and then she wrote the story .... kind of. She wrote: Two types.
    And then she wrote on a piece of paper a sentence that established a second character. Another HER. And then she wrote a prayer.
    She asked him to hum things, and then she wrote them down and they just sparkled and then she wrote a short fiction around the water theme and I think I controlled her hands for a few bars at a time, and then she wrote down the notes, and then she wrote to me: 'My heart still aches. She wrote kind and beautiful words that had deep meaning for me.
    I said yeah and then she wrote some other stuff down on the clipboard. A question or two.
    She looked at the question for a while, and then she wrote, “not supposed to”.
    He wrote, “Do you know why?”
    She wrote, “people die”. And then, she wrote, "It happens."

    And then she wrote: “I want to write how I am and who I am so they will know me”

    And then he wrote a book, made a movie and pretty much babbled on. She babbled on. I babbled on. And they babbled on and on. Not so interesting is the "and-then-he-wrote, and-then-he-wrote."
    He wrote nothing and then he wrote again and there was some waiting and then he wrote tender letters again and again. He wrote, “Do you know why?”
    She wrote, “people die”.

    And then he wrote in the sand from Galveston. You wrote in the sand and now, you write on a stone, why?"
    He wrote in the sand with his finger and then took a picture. And then he wrote the second line, and the second line had to be answered, and then he wrote the third line. She thought it looked fine there, and then she wrote her own name, in red, right under it.

    And then he wrote a letter to his old home. It came back undelivered. The next day he paid a visit to his old home, to his old home at Surprise Hill. (Leaves the prison gates, he makes his way to his old home, but his old home is not there.) “A pleasant surprise?" Hill said, I wanted it to be a surprise,” Hill said. “I knew it would be a joyous moment. You could see how it lifted them.” Masterful editing has lifted them out of the ordinary.
    And then he wrote this, which touched my heart ... this story touched my heart:
    He could build a log house himself, and then he wrote poetry.
    I always wanted to build a log house ... everyone could build a log house with their own hands if they have a dream to build a log house. So it's Time to Open the Prison Gates!!!!

    Then he wrote to me ordinary things that touched the heart and moved the soul, such as “the pellet lodged in or touched the heart when Whittington was shot.”
Long, long time ago there lived a poor boy called Dick Whittington. He had no mother and no father, and often nothing to eat. One day he heard of the great city of London, where, said everyone, even the streets were paved with gold. How was it done? What is it?
  How Is It done to get the maximum out of the grooves? the age-old dirt out of the grooves? ink out of the grooves? Double helix out of the grooves. Get the last of the fluid out of the grooves. Out of the grooves -- using a paint scraper, toothbrush bristles, or even toothpicks or large sewing needles. He did this, and then he wrote to me and asked me how it was done.

    How is it done? ... How is it done?

    And then he wrote to me that he was going to speak ... going to speak about these matters today,'' he said. "I was just a little confused ... now I am going to speak for myself.” When he heard how ill poor mamma was, then he wrote to me—twice. You may see his letters if you like. Poor mamma was tired with holding so big a girl for so long,
    Mom suddenly screamed:" you are already so big a girl!” Just the thought of so big a girl! Poor mamma was always very particular about that! It all seemed very complicated. She wrote to me: 'My heart still aches.’ She wrote to me for money, and I sent it again and again. I was a fool, a big one, and I send the money,
    And then... he wrote to me, in a very strange way, one more time. “That's all she wrote”, he wrote.
    Now, in case you didn’t know, That's all she wrote is used to indicate the end of something...
    So! That was all she wrote.

          * * *

Saturday, May 2, 2009

        Never Heave Your Bosom

    Your writing wasn't breezy and chirpy and shallow enough? No problem. It's probably purple, anyway -- always purple interrupting and dissecting black. The fact that she was wearing brown shoes that were what we sometimes call a purple patch -- down to the image of a tree reflected in the veins of a lettuce leaf.
    Think about a day when your writing wasn't...your writing wasn't messy, your writing wasn't really funny. When it was brown but turned to red in a few hours. Just make it look as if it's pushing out from inside. It's turned back into one of these women, large, both her feet and both her ankles are swollen,
    We're talking about you. During this time was there a swirl or any unnatural condition of the sea? In the midst of the ripples there was a swirl?
    No, nothing whatever. The wind and sea were then beginning to get up. There was a moderate breeze blowing then, and a little slop of the sea.
    What's so wrong with a little slop from time to time?
    I noticed some brown sludge looking substance pushing out from around the..., pushing out from a valley, pushing out from its secret place. I noticed one of the bags was leaking some brown sludge which I realized were decomposed leftovers. There was some brown sludge floating by this morning, and there will be some brown sludge in the bottom of your fermenter.
    Have you any idea how much depth of water there was about that point?
    Yes; about two thousand and odd fathoms.
    Two thousand and odd fathoms? You think you had seen odd eyes?
    Yes. He has one full blue eye and one parti-eye, meaning it's blue with some brown sludge in it. And both his gloves were jewelled in the middle, and both his hand and his sabre fell off. Found with its head pointed directly towards the cornea, sometimes with it turned back into the pupil. In both positions, [it was] the opaque white color of the undigested ham, and it turned back into a door-knocker.
    Anyone up for some brown sludge?
    Dunno, and that was the last thing I expected, and that was the last boat.
    Again, two thousand and odd fathoms?
    Yes; I looked on the chart.
    Were any women rowing the lifeboats?
    Yes, on one boat I saw two women pulling. She displayed her remaining foot and both her ankles for our inspection and both her ankles were very tender and swollen. There was a swirl of dark brown heading straight for me. There was a swirl and a whirl and it was all gone. They didn't even know there was a swirl valve actuator rod.
    Very odd, yes it is working now, so I am going to tell you about the purple monkey.
    No, not the purple one, Jamie, I hate purple.
    Okay, a smooth, dark brown, filbert-sized capsule containing one to four furry purple panties but I didn't have the time. They had smoke pushing out from around them. This goes back and forth until the pile is no longer a blue thing which was brown but turned blue when using with waterglass. Odd, yes, but there we are. Still, history suggests it turned back into a somewhat gaudy, golden decoration. But who decided that your writing wasn't as important as everything else?
    My girlfriend’s mother. My girlfriend’s mother came around, gave me a very painful foot massage and some brown sludge to drink. Within 15 minutes, it was certain she was purple with rage.
    Purple with rage?
    Yes, when she is very angry.
    I wasn't going to say your writing wasn't any good; your writing wasn't bad, but it certainly left some things to be pressed down, and shaken together, and running over, shall men give into your bosom.
    Like a thumb pushing out from a balloon?
    Odd! Yes...but...I don't know what the following two things say about me: 1) An evagination appears pushing out from the ventral side of the caudal end, and 2) I took hold of the snake and it turned back into a staff with some green sludge floating around.
    What a coincidence. I took some green sludge and after recrystallization I found a pile of beautiful sparkling white crystals. I recalled Claude with some green sludge and it turned back into muscle memory. In another three days it's turned back into a skeletal horse. And it turned back into silver coins because he was doing the right thing.
    Who? Claude?
    No, Mark. Odd, yes; he showed up at my house and demanded “You will make some brown sludge that is basically rust.”
    As if your writing wasn't boring enough, you feel the need to delete the dangers of purple. Do you think your writing wasn't neat before it turned back into its old self?
    A bit of purple, which was a pencil I thought was brown but turned... Anyway, there was a swirl outside the window, there was a swirl here and there, but nothing really dense. There was a swirl of dust and it turned back into a male in American version, pushing out from under the snow, preceded by an indescribable stirring in the air.
    I prefer the version where it turned back into a typical black clarinet and has stayed like that. Now. You have spent the time to make sure your writing wasn't understandable.
    I lost my power and it turned back into a picture. I was brown, but turned peach due to a technicality. If he touches some green sludge, for example, he's dead. Does anybody know where a person might find some green sludge that I can pay for?
    Go to your bosom: Knock there, and ask them.

Postscript: An hour and some green sludge later, we were reasonably relaxed.

Sunday, September 7, 2008

    GobbledyGook Has Gotta Go, or       GobbledeGoogle Has Come to Stay

  In 1966, John O'Hayre, reportedly an employee of the United States Office of Land Management, wrote a short booklet called Gobbledygook Has Gotta Go, which was published by the Government Printing Office, and has been reprinted several times. His desire was to simplify the legalese and mumbo-jumbo of government documents. This confusing language, which is almost undoubtedly meant to confuse, was called "government-speak" by George Orwell in 1984 (a book written in 1948 and published in 1949, a few months before Orwell died).
  The English language can be written plain or fancy, and has taken words from all over the world to make it easier for us to write or speak it either way. I was trying to find a "clever" way to name this blog, and remembered the O'Hayre pamphlet (I thought it was Gobbledegook) which I sent away for in 1966. I named my blog GobbledeGoogle because Google gives us access to words, ideas, news, not-news, and people from all over.
  If you are interested in the Plain English movement, go to:
  If you want to read a lot about Orwell, go to

Monday, August 18, 2008

  Decease & Insist, Young Man!

    Time to demand that they cease their order to cease and desist, and correct for North Creek Farms. Time to demand that they cease seasonal boredom, obsessed America! This version of Mighty Joe Young begins with the powerful gorilla whom sweet music lulls brain into quality sleep.
    The novel is as an Esquire review disturbingly well written. Obscenity ... was meant to do-to cause an illegal business to cease and desist. Before the escapees could get away, two young women arrived at the mobile home. Councilor Linda asked Chief Joe Young if the police would be available were Blodgett to drop the cease and desist on the stone wall and request Mr. Blodgett to drop the cease and desist on the stone wall. The pair sent a reply saying, "We will neither cease nor desist" and added: "He's a strong young man. May the sun of your setting out not cease to shine upon a young esquire stunned and buried." "Young man, the secret of my success is that an early age I discovered that I was not God," said Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr. [In other words, the young O. W. Holmes.]
    Don't copy this (and don't copy my cease and desist letter, either. Free Speech in Cease and Desist Letters! Hip Hip Hoorah! If you are young and you should write asking to see me and learn how to be a somber young salesperson, Cease & Desist!

Monday, August 11, 2008

Acknowledgment that the Bug Exists

    I was walking and a bug landed near my elbow. I couldn’t ... I was walking and a bug landed near my elbow. I couldn’t tell if it was a mosquito or no but... Well actually I do not know if it was a mosquito or a spider. I asked him if it was a mosquito. "No Señor," he muttered resignedly, "es un jején." “No, senor. You're very kind, but if I were a good salesman, I'd have sold you this rug already."
    This rug displays stunning accents of blue, gold, burgundy, and rust spread across the beautiful patterns of this rug; flanked by stunning accents of luminous 18K gold. Brightens your eyes naturally and sets stunning accents. Pure, luminous shades.
    This incredible pencil brightens your eyes for a younger more alert look. He says it led to an internal memo to ferry employees asking them to be more alert. An Internal memo about urine is promptly leaked. (Weak leak noise and high background noise.) The late Thomas A. Edison, in a penciled memo sold at auction for $230 last week in Philadelphia: "As to the atom, I do not believe it has any internal ..." "I’d say any internal error should always be seen as a bug."
    Weak rulers of the Thirteenth Dynasty led to an internal struggle within the government. Weak rulers who were inefficient and corrupt ruled the roast [sic]. When headless chooks ruled the roost. I ruined the roast. I’ll never forget the smell.
    The tests led to an internal flashover after several days of energization. When the room bursts into flame, flashover has occurred. Bursts into flame · bursts into flame · bursts into flame · bursts into flame · bursts into flame · bursts into flame bursts into flames Bursts Out Laughing.
    “Next, we need to go through the bug list and triage it.” I'm sorry, but I burst out laughing when I saw that one.
    All we're asking for is acknowledgment that the bug exists.

Note: I found the phrase "near my elbow" in a newspaper article, used Google to "Google" it, selected one likely phrase as it appeared in the search list of Google citations, and went from there -- selecting phrases from each "hit" to search for more to add to the story. Finally, I went back and added a couple of "bug" searches.