"breeky breeky chicken ballad"
breeky breeky chickens
walking
clucking
talking
clover-popping
in the porridge
always hopping
breaking
drowning
gargle-sopping
into feather heaven
knocking
to your stocking
they are flocking
out of reach
but always gawking
breeky breeky chicken boking
---
99.9% of people in Philadelphia cannot drive.
8.26.2004
8.13.2004
The Hot Gnu Jawn!
The Adventures of the James Madison Fan Club!
This episode: What Happened After Breakfast!
"I'm gooooooooin' to a Go-Go!" sang a fist-pumping John Adams with the excitement of a newly-birthed baboon.
"Why do you insist on squawking like a duck-billed platymoose," yelled Abe Lincoln from atop his Monopoly top hat after receiving his Get-Out-Of-Jail-Free card.
"Mayhaps it's because we seem to have been lost in this cornfield for three entire minutes," offered Thomas Paine, who desperately wanted to be wanted. "I'm beginning to worry about myself and whether I'm okay out here on my own!"
"YOU'RE NOT!" shouted Cassandra, but nobody really cared about what she had to say.
"'Tis true," agreed the Greek chorus.
"If I take one more step," Thomas Jefferson mumbled, "It'll be the farthest away from Montecello I've ever been!"
"Oh, who gives a hoof?" Abe snarled with gnashed teeth (a difficult thing to accomplish when one has extremely bushy eyebrows).
"Ack!" squealed John Adams. "I just swallowed a ladybug! OH GOD, A LAAAAADYBUUUUG!!!!" He fell to the ground as a recently-shot deer might have, had the recently-shot deer been named "John Adams." He laid motionless with his tongue extended in a rather unattractive fashion. Then he clutched at his throat with his hairy Federalist mitts. "Bleech, bleech," he added as an afterthought.
Abe promptly kicked him with his boot. Hard.
"Abe!" James Madison exclaimed, leaning down and clinging to his Spatula of Justice for support. "Why, I do believe you have something stuck to your boot!"
"Bat's muh toofs!" yelled a withered old hag-man from the town they had recently pillaged, looted, and plundered in the name of George Washington (may he live on!).
"Well," interjected Ben Franklin, who had just come from the loo and felt it was his inalienable right to share the punchline, "I guess you could say that Abe finally stuck his foot in his mouth...though, well, not HIS mouth, but A mouth, anyway!" Pause. "MWAH!"
"Yeah, that wasn't funny, Ben," Thomas Jefferson snarked. Then he quickly hit Mr. Franklin over the noggin with a rolled up newspaper. Oddly, in that exact same newspaper, the front page read, "Thank Gourd this painful bit is over!"
Life was good!
---
50% of Americans secretly wish they could own a camel.
This episode: What Happened After Breakfast!
"I'm gooooooooin' to a Go-Go!" sang a fist-pumping John Adams with the excitement of a newly-birthed baboon.
"Why do you insist on squawking like a duck-billed platymoose," yelled Abe Lincoln from atop his Monopoly top hat after receiving his Get-Out-Of-Jail-Free card.
"Mayhaps it's because we seem to have been lost in this cornfield for three entire minutes," offered Thomas Paine, who desperately wanted to be wanted. "I'm beginning to worry about myself and whether I'm okay out here on my own!"
"YOU'RE NOT!" shouted Cassandra, but nobody really cared about what she had to say.
"'Tis true," agreed the Greek chorus.
"If I take one more step," Thomas Jefferson mumbled, "It'll be the farthest away from Montecello I've ever been!"
"Oh, who gives a hoof?" Abe snarled with gnashed teeth (a difficult thing to accomplish when one has extremely bushy eyebrows).
"Ack!" squealed John Adams. "I just swallowed a ladybug! OH GOD, A LAAAAADYBUUUUG!!!!" He fell to the ground as a recently-shot deer might have, had the recently-shot deer been named "John Adams." He laid motionless with his tongue extended in a rather unattractive fashion. Then he clutched at his throat with his hairy Federalist mitts. "Bleech, bleech," he added as an afterthought.
Abe promptly kicked him with his boot. Hard.
"Abe!" James Madison exclaimed, leaning down and clinging to his Spatula of Justice for support. "Why, I do believe you have something stuck to your boot!"
"Bat's muh toofs!" yelled a withered old hag-man from the town they had recently pillaged, looted, and plundered in the name of George Washington (may he live on!).
"Well," interjected Ben Franklin, who had just come from the loo and felt it was his inalienable right to share the punchline, "I guess you could say that Abe finally stuck his foot in his mouth...though, well, not HIS mouth, but A mouth, anyway!" Pause. "MWAH!"
"Yeah, that wasn't funny, Ben," Thomas Jefferson snarked. Then he quickly hit Mr. Franklin over the noggin with a rolled up newspaper. Oddly, in that exact same newspaper, the front page read, "Thank Gourd this painful bit is over!"
Life was good!
---
50% of Americans secretly wish they could own a camel.
8.11.2004
I've Got Shingles...Who Could Ask For Anything More?
"The Shingles Jingles"
Anyone who mingles
With a person who has shingles
Feels some painful tingles
From their head down to their fingles.
It may seem outrageous,
But that person is contageous!
So if you're elderly
Or contracted HIV,
Please, just don't go near
Because it's chicken pox you'll fear!
---
The Company-Mandated Phone Greeting Example:
"Thaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaanks for calling Game Zone, where for only five dollars you can reserve Britney's Strip Tease for the Game Boy Advance, rated 'E' for 'everyone,' coming out October 8th or the mature-rated first-person shooter Mickey and Goofy's Prison Break for the Playstation 2 coming out in time for Thanksgiving on November 15th, and where you can trade in all of your disgustingly dirty, broken, roach-infested and disease-spreading used games and consoles that we honestly don't want and we will pay virtually nothing for, and where you can get a discount on all the used games and consoles you actually buy with our exclusive game zone card that we'll be sure to force upon you repeatedly at the checkout counter until you acquiesce and your soul is finally ours...my name is Marge, how may I help you?"
*click*
Now THAT is good marketing.
---
Helga says: "Don't be rudel, eat streudal."
Anyone who mingles
With a person who has shingles
Feels some painful tingles
From their head down to their fingles.
It may seem outrageous,
But that person is contageous!
So if you're elderly
Or contracted HIV,
Please, just don't go near
Because it's chicken pox you'll fear!
---
The Company-Mandated Phone Greeting Example:
"Thaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaanks for calling Game Zone, where for only five dollars you can reserve Britney's Strip Tease for the Game Boy Advance, rated 'E' for 'everyone,' coming out October 8th or the mature-rated first-person shooter Mickey and Goofy's Prison Break for the Playstation 2 coming out in time for Thanksgiving on November 15th, and where you can trade in all of your disgustingly dirty, broken, roach-infested and disease-spreading used games and consoles that we honestly don't want and we will pay virtually nothing for, and where you can get a discount on all the used games and consoles you actually buy with our exclusive game zone card that we'll be sure to force upon you repeatedly at the checkout counter until you acquiesce and your soul is finally ours...my name is Marge, how may I help you?"
*click*
Now THAT is good marketing.
---
Helga says: "Don't be rudel, eat streudal."
8.04.2004
Holiday Bacon: Exposed!
The Camel Controversy With Robert T. Bruce!
Part Oomph: The Scary Puppet
"Mmnnnn....nothing like the feeling of warm cloth settling against the loins!" yawned Robert T. Bruce as he dismounted from the pole vault that was his mule. "I don't even care about Mount Olympus! Do you know why? I hate those ghastly pomegranates, and I understand that they are quite abundant in the afterlife!" he explained to his diseased companion, Pablo Peculiar. "I shan't miss a thing if I go to Hell instead," he reflected into his travel mirror.
"That's nice," replied Pablo (who wasn't).
"And furthermore," Robert T. Bruce interrupted, "I daren't wonder what I should look like in a toga!"
Silence.
"A HUH HUH HUH HUH!" He added, shoulders twitching with mirth. Pablo Peculiar said nothing. It was almost as if he had been stricken with a nasty case of the measles, which of course, he had. Robert continued, much to the dismay of the audience: "From this point forward, Pablo, we shall not wont for amusement, for I am quite the jester! I fancy myself immensely!" At this, he dismounted again and headed toward the castle conveniently placed a few yards away.
NEXT SCENE: AT THE CASTLE DOOR
"It's loched."
(drumroll)
"Oh, bother!" squealed Robert T. Bruce. "I forgot the password! Now what was
it...antelope? Marshmallow? Crippled Monkey With Hoof and Mouth Disease?"
"Why," interjected Pablo, "don't you just use the key?"
At this point, a very large rock fell from the sky and struck the ground a quarter mile away from Robert T. Bruce. He reacted as a child would have, given the circumstances. "Oh!" he faltered (and fell). "Oh, my head is swimming! My heart is racing! That rock was nowhere near me!"
Pablo graciously changed the subject (and his bandage).
---
The Truth About Holiday Hiring
I found myself in the middle of a corporate skirmish. Our regional manager insisted that I hire 12 people for the holidays, when we clearly could get by with 8, and in fact, would only be generating enough income to comfortably support 7. "People get tired!" she explained. "We need to switch people from the register to the floor so that they don't get burned out!"
Don't get burned out? What was this, the military?
"..and you can cut your hours by 15."
Ah.
"..and make a prominent display for all of those unwanted strategy guides for delisted dreamcast games that nobody owns!"
Er...?
"...and make sure you ask everyone to reserve something, even if they're three years old, don't speak English, and have no arms! Sell, sell, SELL!!!!!"
Oh.
"...and stay within payroll!"
Uh..
"God, I'm beautiful," she exclaimed as she took a break from barking orders to examine her reflection in our newly-polished glass cabinets.
"Well," I ventured,"I don't really need anyone else on my staff. I can't train them if I don't have training hours, and to avoid going over payroll I need hours--"
"SILENCE!" she shouted, even though we were two regrettable feet apart. "We must make money for our wonderful company! Our company treats us so well! They give us evenings and weekends off, and vehicles to drive, and free laptop computers.."
"I don't get any of that," I interrupted.
"WHO CARES??!!" she responded. "I GET THESE THINGS AND THAT'S ALL THAT MATTERS!!"
"I don't understand how I'm supposed to take on five new people, train them while cutting payroll hours, and still get everything done during the busiest part of the year. You won't even allow overtime!"
Her face contorted into various expressions, almost as if she were trying to squeeze out some kind of intelligent response. This proved to be too much of an effort, however. "THE COMPANY IS RIGHT! THE COMPANY IS WONDERFULLLL!" she sang, and did what I gathered was supposed to be a "Corporate Happiness Jig." Then she turned around to face my staff: "I DON'T HEAR ANY SELLING GOING ON!"
The madness continues...
---
A recent poll showed that 54% of llamas prefer the taste of root beer to Mountain Dew. My question is, "What about Mello Yellow?"
Fin.
Part Oomph: The Scary Puppet
"Mmnnnn....nothing like the feeling of warm cloth settling against the loins!" yawned Robert T. Bruce as he dismounted from the pole vault that was his mule. "I don't even care about Mount Olympus! Do you know why? I hate those ghastly pomegranates, and I understand that they are quite abundant in the afterlife!" he explained to his diseased companion, Pablo Peculiar. "I shan't miss a thing if I go to Hell instead," he reflected into his travel mirror.
"That's nice," replied Pablo (who wasn't).
"And furthermore," Robert T. Bruce interrupted, "I daren't wonder what I should look like in a toga!"
Silence.
"A HUH HUH HUH HUH!" He added, shoulders twitching with mirth. Pablo Peculiar said nothing. It was almost as if he had been stricken with a nasty case of the measles, which of course, he had. Robert continued, much to the dismay of the audience: "From this point forward, Pablo, we shall not wont for amusement, for I am quite the jester! I fancy myself immensely!" At this, he dismounted again and headed toward the castle conveniently placed a few yards away.
NEXT SCENE: AT THE CASTLE DOOR
"It's loched."
(drumroll)
"Oh, bother!" squealed Robert T. Bruce. "I forgot the password! Now what was
it...antelope? Marshmallow? Crippled Monkey With Hoof and Mouth Disease?"
"Why," interjected Pablo, "don't you just use the key?"
At this point, a very large rock fell from the sky and struck the ground a quarter mile away from Robert T. Bruce. He reacted as a child would have, given the circumstances. "Oh!" he faltered (and fell). "Oh, my head is swimming! My heart is racing! That rock was nowhere near me!"
Pablo graciously changed the subject (and his bandage).
---
The Truth About Holiday Hiring
I found myself in the middle of a corporate skirmish. Our regional manager insisted that I hire 12 people for the holidays, when we clearly could get by with 8, and in fact, would only be generating enough income to comfortably support 7. "People get tired!" she explained. "We need to switch people from the register to the floor so that they don't get burned out!"
Don't get burned out? What was this, the military?
"..and you can cut your hours by 15."
Ah.
"..and make a prominent display for all of those unwanted strategy guides for delisted dreamcast games that nobody owns!"
Er...?
"...and make sure you ask everyone to reserve something, even if they're three years old, don't speak English, and have no arms! Sell, sell, SELL!!!!!"
Oh.
"...and stay within payroll!"
Uh..
"God, I'm beautiful," she exclaimed as she took a break from barking orders to examine her reflection in our newly-polished glass cabinets.
"Well," I ventured,"I don't really need anyone else on my staff. I can't train them if I don't have training hours, and to avoid going over payroll I need hours--"
"SILENCE!" she shouted, even though we were two regrettable feet apart. "We must make money for our wonderful company! Our company treats us so well! They give us evenings and weekends off, and vehicles to drive, and free laptop computers.."
"I don't get any of that," I interrupted.
"WHO CARES??!!" she responded. "I GET THESE THINGS AND THAT'S ALL THAT MATTERS!!"
"I don't understand how I'm supposed to take on five new people, train them while cutting payroll hours, and still get everything done during the busiest part of the year. You won't even allow overtime!"
Her face contorted into various expressions, almost as if she were trying to squeeze out some kind of intelligent response. This proved to be too much of an effort, however. "THE COMPANY IS RIGHT! THE COMPANY IS WONDERFULLLL!" she sang, and did what I gathered was supposed to be a "Corporate Happiness Jig." Then she turned around to face my staff: "I DON'T HEAR ANY SELLING GOING ON!"
The madness continues...
---
A recent poll showed that 54% of llamas prefer the taste of root beer to Mountain Dew. My question is, "What about Mello Yellow?"
Fin.
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