OAK TREE AND POPPIES
September 26, 2009
CARTOON FRIDAY 17
September 25, 2009
“Our very own Bill Bixter is here once again to edify us with his annual presentation of ‘Edgar Allan Poe – Wretched, Filthy Genius’.”
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FROM DOC’S LOON FABLES 11
September 23, 2009
The Continental Divide
One day an eight mile long section of the Continental Divide up and tore himself loose from the mountains in Colorado.
“I got a hankerin’ to see the Pacific Ocean,” he announced.
“Don’t go, Al. What’ll we do without you?” pleaded Brenda, the section of Continental Divide to Al’s left.
“You’ll figger somethin’,” said Al, moving off.
“Hey, Brenda. Forget about Al. Stretch on over. We can link up fer sure,” said Ace, the section of Continental Divide formerly to Al’s right.
Al felt the small quake linking Ace and Brenda as he moved down the mountainside. Good enough, he thought, good enough. Although he was an eight mile section of the Continental Divide, Al impressively moved with stealth across the land only at night during the following week. When he reached the mouth of the Umpqua River in Oregon, he looked out on the vastness of the Pacific Ocean.
“That there the Pacific?” Al asked the river.
“So they tell me,” replied the river.
“Sure nuff makes a body think,” said Al, and then all eight miles of him fell silent and enjoyed the view.
Moral: If you’re a hankerin’ to do somethin’, jest shut yer yap and do it.
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PRUDENT JELLY
September 22, 2009
mouse ….. mice
louse ……. lice
house ….. hice
spouse …. spice
grouse …. grice
nouse ….. nice
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DICTIONARY FUN A LA WODEHOUSE 6
September 21, 2009
fenny – peculiar to or found in a fen
“Did you find this in the fen?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Fenny, eh?”
“Yes, sir. Seems so, sir.”
“Funny, this being fenny.”
“Sir?”
“It’s not wet.”
“Ah, no sir. I took the liberty of drying it, sir.”
“Dried it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“From the fen, you say.”
“Definitely fenny, sir.”
“Very well. Carry on.”
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UNSEEMLY YOGA POSITION
September 20, 2009
COWBOY POETRY 1
September 19, 2009
Ol’ Diablo
Reckon it’s fate
Put me up on Ol’ Diablo
The lily-livered son of a whore
Noble a steed
As ever rode a mountain pass
In the dead God gone of winter
The lily-livered son of a whore
Swam me across
A roaring rage of river
Broke through barriers of ice
Foundered in snow
Plowed proud to a purpose
With nary a complaint
Got me home
The lily-livered son of a whore
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CARTOON FRIDAY 16
September 18, 2009
“If you think I’m in this business for my health, then you are very much mistaken.”
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NOIR
September 17, 2009
The Case of the Battered Fedora
The battered fedora slipped quietly into his office and slumped on the couch. It was no use. Gone. Lost forever. What was a guy supposed to do? I earned those, fair and square, he thought, pondering the pair of bullet holes in his crown and the grease stains on his brim.
“Damn it,” he muttered, and he flung himself against the wall. He settled with a satisfying ping in the empty wastebasket.
“Serves me right. How could I lose that case?” he spoke, making a tinny echo in the cheap metal receptacle.
True. Dining in greasy spoons and participating in gunplay had been useless. How can a gumshoe hat misplace a case of Irish Black Label Scotch Malt Beverage? The battered fedora came to the conclusion that he was slipping. No doubt about it. He was losing it. It was lost. He was history.
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5 of 5 stars to The Great Train Robbery by Michael Crichton goodreads.com/review/show/55…
