Saturday, January 31, 2004
Tuning In, Turning On, Tapping Out
Mr. Codswallop: Have you neared the completion of the repairs to that antiquarian jukebox contraption as of yet?
Mr. Flapdoodle: I'll have it rockin' in no time.
Mr. Codswallop: In your vulgar vernacular, I am guessing you mean it will be working?
Mr. Flapdoodle: And playing some rock and roll.
Mr. Codswallop: Perhaps you could include some other forms of music for other more civilized ears.
Mr. Flapdoodle: You don't use your ears to put the money in. You use your hands.
Mr. Codswallop: Is this monstrosity going to accrue us any revenue.
Mr. Flapdoodle: The money will flow when the place is rockin' to the tunes.
Mr. Codswallop: I should hope so. You have been attempting those repairs for weeks. At least you have been, on those exceedingly rare occasions, when you do some honest toil.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I work when my Muse calls to me.
Mr. Codswallop: I would suggest the acquisition of a more ambitious Muse.
Mr. Flapdoodle: My task is completed. The jukebox is ready to try! Only one question though. Why do I have some parts left over.
Mr. Codswallop: I would entertain the thought that perhaps they were not required.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Maybe they were the problem.
Mr. Codswallop: Over engineering was likely the cause the machine's difficulties.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I'll just leave them on the bar. Maybe we could sell them as souvenirs.
Mr. Codswallop: Start the phonograph up and see if it works properly.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Phonograph? What era are you from again?
Mr. Codswallop: One that has more culture than the current epoch.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Her she comes! "Rock Around the Clock"!
Mr. Codswallop: While that ditty did represent the end of all civilized society, your repairs were indeed a rousing success.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Let there be rock! Comments
Mr. Flapdoodle: I'll have it rockin' in no time.
Mr. Codswallop: In your vulgar vernacular, I am guessing you mean it will be working?
Mr. Flapdoodle: And playing some rock and roll.
Mr. Codswallop: Perhaps you could include some other forms of music for other more civilized ears.
Mr. Flapdoodle: You don't use your ears to put the money in. You use your hands.
Mr. Codswallop: Is this monstrosity going to accrue us any revenue.
Mr. Flapdoodle: The money will flow when the place is rockin' to the tunes.
Mr. Codswallop: I should hope so. You have been attempting those repairs for weeks. At least you have been, on those exceedingly rare occasions, when you do some honest toil.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I work when my Muse calls to me.
Mr. Codswallop: I would suggest the acquisition of a more ambitious Muse.
Mr. Flapdoodle: My task is completed. The jukebox is ready to try! Only one question though. Why do I have some parts left over.
Mr. Codswallop: I would entertain the thought that perhaps they were not required.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Maybe they were the problem.
Mr. Codswallop: Over engineering was likely the cause the machine's difficulties.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I'll just leave them on the bar. Maybe we could sell them as souvenirs.
Mr. Codswallop: Start the phonograph up and see if it works properly.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Phonograph? What era are you from again?
Mr. Codswallop: One that has more culture than the current epoch.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Her she comes! "Rock Around the Clock"!
Mr. Codswallop: While that ditty did represent the end of all civilized society, your repairs were indeed a rousing success.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Let there be rock! Comments
Friday, January 30, 2004
Racing the Roaches II
Mr. Codswallop (answering the door): Flapdoodle, there are two lovely ladies at the door, clad entirely in black leather, and they appear to brandishing whips!
Mr. Flapdoodle: They must be the exterminators! Hi ladies!
Mr. Codswallop: Have you ladies brought your equipment for cleaning up our problems?
Lady One: Yes, we have every thing degrading, including clean-up, and we do extras, but they cost extra too.
Mr. Codswallop: We want to engage your business in the most vile of occupations. Have you seen our roaches?
Lady Two: Is that what you call them?
Lady One: Maybe they are offering us some weed.
Mr. Codswallop (to Mr. Flapdoodle as they go to the other side of the bar): Where did you find this somewhat unorthodox extermination business?
Mr. Flapdoodle: I called a couple of places, told the ladies who answered the phones that I wanted degrading and bio, and they kept hanging up on me.
Mr. Codswallop: You meant biodegradable, did you not?
Mr. Flapdoodle: Close enough. Well anyway, one nice lady suggested The House of Degradation, and then she hung up on me too. I never got to thank her for the referral.
Mr. Codswallop: I believe the ladies at the door are not exterminators, but rather they represent some segment of the sexual trade.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I knew I called the right place! The roaches can wait!
Mr. Codswallop: These ladies will not rid us of our severe pestilance problem.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I suppose. Uncle Hiram's race track is rather popular with some of the patrons.
Sitting at a table later that evening, quietly sipping on British ale, Mr. Codswallop and Mr. Flapdoodle reflected on their handiwork.
Mr. Codswallop: It is certainly a glorious day for humanity as we pushed those vile cockroaches into their own diaspora.
Mr. Flapdoodle: And we killed a lot of them too!
Mr. Codswallop: We had far greater success, in alleviating our infestation, when we took matters into our own hands.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Have bug zap gun, will travel!
Mr. Codswallop: Rather than entrust our fortunes to the whims of others, and more to the point, your feeble attempts at locating some professionals, we did it ourselves.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I did find professionals, you can't say that I didn't.
Mr. Codswallop: At least we are now a cockroach free establishment.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I am going to miss the races. Ah those were the days! Sheep of Baghdad edging out Foto Finish by a fraction of an antenna; and then Foto Finish winning the rematch by an abdomen.
Mr. Codswallop: We were becoming a veritable gambling den.
Mr. Flapdoodle: And what huge pots were won! Two and three dollars at a time! The patrons will miss the cash windfalls. I know I would!
Mr. Codswallop: Be that as it may, I prefer the end of the cockroaches, even though they will still be around for the end of the world.
Mr. Flapdoodle: They will still be racing then?
Comments
Mr. Flapdoodle: They must be the exterminators! Hi ladies!
Mr. Codswallop: Have you ladies brought your equipment for cleaning up our problems?
Lady One: Yes, we have every thing degrading, including clean-up, and we do extras, but they cost extra too.
Mr. Codswallop: We want to engage your business in the most vile of occupations. Have you seen our roaches?
Lady Two: Is that what you call them?
Lady One: Maybe they are offering us some weed.
Mr. Codswallop (to Mr. Flapdoodle as they go to the other side of the bar): Where did you find this somewhat unorthodox extermination business?
Mr. Flapdoodle: I called a couple of places, told the ladies who answered the phones that I wanted degrading and bio, and they kept hanging up on me.
Mr. Codswallop: You meant biodegradable, did you not?
Mr. Flapdoodle: Close enough. Well anyway, one nice lady suggested The House of Degradation, and then she hung up on me too. I never got to thank her for the referral.
Mr. Codswallop: I believe the ladies at the door are not exterminators, but rather they represent some segment of the sexual trade.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I knew I called the right place! The roaches can wait!
Mr. Codswallop: These ladies will not rid us of our severe pestilance problem.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I suppose. Uncle Hiram's race track is rather popular with some of the patrons.
Sitting at a table later that evening, quietly sipping on British ale, Mr. Codswallop and Mr. Flapdoodle reflected on their handiwork.
Mr. Codswallop: It is certainly a glorious day for humanity as we pushed those vile cockroaches into their own diaspora.
Mr. Flapdoodle: And we killed a lot of them too!
Mr. Codswallop: We had far greater success, in alleviating our infestation, when we took matters into our own hands.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Have bug zap gun, will travel!
Mr. Codswallop: Rather than entrust our fortunes to the whims of others, and more to the point, your feeble attempts at locating some professionals, we did it ourselves.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I did find professionals, you can't say that I didn't.
Mr. Codswallop: At least we are now a cockroach free establishment.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I am going to miss the races. Ah those were the days! Sheep of Baghdad edging out Foto Finish by a fraction of an antenna; and then Foto Finish winning the rematch by an abdomen.
Mr. Codswallop: We were becoming a veritable gambling den.
Mr. Flapdoodle: And what huge pots were won! Two and three dollars at a time! The patrons will miss the cash windfalls. I know I would!
Mr. Codswallop: Be that as it may, I prefer the end of the cockroaches, even though they will still be around for the end of the world.
Mr. Flapdoodle: They will still be racing then?
Comments
Thursday, January 29, 2004
Racing For Roaches
Mr. Codswallop: We really must do something about these dreadful roaches residing in the hostelry.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I use an ashtray.
Mr. Codswallop: I am not referring to your slang terminology for your recreational activities. I am referring to these horrendous cockroaches.
Mr. Flapdoodle: But they are my friends, and they're great for business. They are popular to bet on too. Last week, Uncle Hiram made ten bucks on them.
Mr. Codswallop: The vile creatures are more likely driving away business. I cannot fathom the revulsion that the ladies must feel when encountering them.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I think some of the ladies named the roaches.
Mr. Codswallop: What do you mean by that?
Mr. Flapdoodle: Well, the ladies gave each racing roach a name.
Mr. Codswallop: We must call an extermination contractor immediately.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I can get Mr. McGillicutty to do it cheap. He will boil up one of his sour mashes. That'll kill anything.
Mr. Codswallop: I would suggest that we make arrangements with a professional firm that utilizes an organic and biodegradable product.
Mr. Flapdoodle: True. McGillicutty's concoctions have a half life longer than nuclear waste.
Mr. Codswallop: It is settled then. The cockroaches have got to be removed.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Then you can explain to Uncle Hiram why he can't win ten bucks a week any more.
Comments
Mr. Flapdoodle: I use an ashtray.
Mr. Codswallop: I am not referring to your slang terminology for your recreational activities. I am referring to these horrendous cockroaches.
Mr. Flapdoodle: But they are my friends, and they're great for business. They are popular to bet on too. Last week, Uncle Hiram made ten bucks on them.
Mr. Codswallop: The vile creatures are more likely driving away business. I cannot fathom the revulsion that the ladies must feel when encountering them.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I think some of the ladies named the roaches.
Mr. Codswallop: What do you mean by that?
Mr. Flapdoodle: Well, the ladies gave each racing roach a name.
Mr. Codswallop: We must call an extermination contractor immediately.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I can get Mr. McGillicutty to do it cheap. He will boil up one of his sour mashes. That'll kill anything.
Mr. Codswallop: I would suggest that we make arrangements with a professional firm that utilizes an organic and biodegradable product.
Mr. Flapdoodle: True. McGillicutty's concoctions have a half life longer than nuclear waste.
Mr. Codswallop: It is settled then. The cockroaches have got to be removed.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Then you can explain to Uncle Hiram why he can't win ten bucks a week any more.
Comments
Wednesday, January 28, 2004
History is only a Book
Mr Codswallop smiled approvingly at the patron's choice in reading material. He always admired readers of Tolstoy in general, and of "War and Peace" in particular.
Mr. Codswallop: I must say, that customer has selected a wonderful tome!
Mr. Flapdoodle: What tone? I don't hear anything.
Mr. Codswallop: I was referring to his selection of "War and Peace" from our shelves.
Mr. Flapdoodle: You mean he has a book about war and a book about peace?
Mr. Codswallop: No, that is the name of the great novel by Leo Tolstoy. It is entitled "War and Peace", and is concerned with the characters during the Napoleonic invasion of Russia.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I know how that turned out. Napoleon got cold, lost the war, and went to see a babe named Helena, who lived on an island. I think the island was called Elbow. The lady he met there may have been named Water Lou.
Mr. Codswallop: Your comic book sense of history is going to be the death of me yet.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I might not know about any of Napoleon's dates, but he must have had a few.
Mr. Codswallop: He was wedded to Josephine. Have you not read any of the fine books we have on our shelves.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I don't like fines for books. When I was at school, the library fined me for having an over due book.
Mr. Codswallop: That system is to prevent the loss of public property.
Mr. Flapdoodle: But I thought they were giving the books away. They said it was a free service.
Mr. Codswallop: Have you not learned that there are no free lunches?
Mr. Flapdoodle: You got that right. I tried for a free meal at the soup kitchen once, and I had to listen to a concert.
Mr. Codswallop: I am certain the event had an enlightening effect on your character.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Well, actually it was kind of dark in there.
Mr. Codswallop: Have you learned nothing from the intriguing study of human history.
Mr. Flapdoodle: With all the wars they had, whoever sold the guns made money!
Mr. Codswallop: You may have a point there!
Mr. Flapdoodle: And I never even read the book! Comments
Mr. Codswallop: I must say, that customer has selected a wonderful tome!
Mr. Flapdoodle: What tone? I don't hear anything.
Mr. Codswallop: I was referring to his selection of "War and Peace" from our shelves.
Mr. Flapdoodle: You mean he has a book about war and a book about peace?
Mr. Codswallop: No, that is the name of the great novel by Leo Tolstoy. It is entitled "War and Peace", and is concerned with the characters during the Napoleonic invasion of Russia.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I know how that turned out. Napoleon got cold, lost the war, and went to see a babe named Helena, who lived on an island. I think the island was called Elbow. The lady he met there may have been named Water Lou.
Mr. Codswallop: Your comic book sense of history is going to be the death of me yet.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I might not know about any of Napoleon's dates, but he must have had a few.
Mr. Codswallop: He was wedded to Josephine. Have you not read any of the fine books we have on our shelves.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I don't like fines for books. When I was at school, the library fined me for having an over due book.
Mr. Codswallop: That system is to prevent the loss of public property.
Mr. Flapdoodle: But I thought they were giving the books away. They said it was a free service.
Mr. Codswallop: Have you not learned that there are no free lunches?
Mr. Flapdoodle: You got that right. I tried for a free meal at the soup kitchen once, and I had to listen to a concert.
Mr. Codswallop: I am certain the event had an enlightening effect on your character.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Well, actually it was kind of dark in there.
Mr. Codswallop: Have you learned nothing from the intriguing study of human history.
Mr. Flapdoodle: With all the wars they had, whoever sold the guns made money!
Mr. Codswallop: You may have a point there!
Mr. Flapdoodle: And I never even read the book! Comments
Tuesday, January 27, 2004
Business Ain't Easy
After tallying a rather disappointing opening day's bar receipts, Mr. Codswallop was convinced that profits were needing improvement. One thing he knew for sure, Mr. Flapdoodle was imbibing too much of the inventory. Something had to be done, and done quickly.
Mr. Codswallop: Flapdoodle: The profits from The Flapping Cod require immediate bolstering!
Mr. Flapdoodle: I am drinking all I can!
Mr. Codswallop: That appears to be the very crux of the financial difficulties.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I told you we needed more entertainment and better music.
Mr. Codswallop: Our music is timeless and dignified.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Yep. Like a dirge! I think they played the same death march at Uncle Urich's funeral.
Mr. Codswallop: Are you suggesting more popular selections, like that erratic and undisciplined jazz; or that eardrum destroying rocking and rolling?
Mr. Flapdoodle: Anything beats a funeral procession.
Mr. Codswallop: Alright. We shall give your jukebox mentality a trial, for a fortnight.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Of a what?
Mr. Codswallop: Never mind!
Mr. Flapdoodle: I can get us cheaper liquor!
Mr. Codswallop: I dare not ask in what manner that task can be accomplished.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I can get some pure product from Mr. McGillicutty's still!
Mr. Codswallop: You are not considering that obnoxious, scraggly whiskered, manufacturer of illegal spirits?
Mr. Flapdoodle: Yep! One and the same.
Mr. Codswallop: Perhaps we can find other ways to economize.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Suit yourself. But his fermented willow bark tea is crowd pleaser!
Mr. Codswallop: I never realized that the man was a tea drinker.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Any connection with tea, after Mr. McGillicutty is through with it, is purely accidental.
Mr. Codswallop: Where is my Glenlivet?
Mr. Flapdoodle: Coming right up! Comments
Mr. Codswallop: Flapdoodle: The profits from The Flapping Cod require immediate bolstering!
Mr. Flapdoodle: I am drinking all I can!
Mr. Codswallop: That appears to be the very crux of the financial difficulties.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I told you we needed more entertainment and better music.
Mr. Codswallop: Our music is timeless and dignified.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Yep. Like a dirge! I think they played the same death march at Uncle Urich's funeral.
Mr. Codswallop: Are you suggesting more popular selections, like that erratic and undisciplined jazz; or that eardrum destroying rocking and rolling?
Mr. Flapdoodle: Anything beats a funeral procession.
Mr. Codswallop: Alright. We shall give your jukebox mentality a trial, for a fortnight.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Of a what?
Mr. Codswallop: Never mind!
Mr. Flapdoodle: I can get us cheaper liquor!
Mr. Codswallop: I dare not ask in what manner that task can be accomplished.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I can get some pure product from Mr. McGillicutty's still!
Mr. Codswallop: You are not considering that obnoxious, scraggly whiskered, manufacturer of illegal spirits?
Mr. Flapdoodle: Yep! One and the same.
Mr. Codswallop: Perhaps we can find other ways to economize.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Suit yourself. But his fermented willow bark tea is crowd pleaser!
Mr. Codswallop: I never realized that the man was a tea drinker.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Any connection with tea, after Mr. McGillicutty is through with it, is purely accidental.
Mr. Codswallop: Where is my Glenlivet?
Mr. Flapdoodle: Coming right up! Comments
Monday, January 26, 2004
Competition is a State of Mind
Mr. Codswallop: I have a major concern about the ethical and legal status of our plans!
Mr. Flapdoodle: What would the bar have to do with someone named Ethel??
Mr. Codswallop: It has just occurred to me, that the bird and snake establishment has never been officially closed, and we are entering into competition with Mr. Brewmaster.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I nover entered that contest.
Mr. Codswallop: While I lack the latest gazette of laws pertaining to the establishment of night clubs in this fair community, I do believe it is unethical.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Cousin Ezra gazed at the laws a lot. From between bars.
Mr. Codswallop: Perhaps we should discuss our business proposal with Mr. Brewmaster.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I'm not proposing to anyone!
Mr. Codswallop: What I am referring to, is a meeting with Mr. Brewmaster, regarding a businesslike transfer of licence.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Don't drive drunk or you'll lose your licence like Uncle Hiram. Twice.
Mr. Codswallop: We must meet with Mr. Brewmaster. He cannot be too pleased with our opening, and our not informing him of our plans!
Mr. Flapdoodle: That calls for a drink too!
Mr. Codswallop: Are you not concerned with conducting a summit as to the legality of this measure?
Mr. Flapdoodle: I applied for a train conductor job once. I didn't get it.
Mr. Codswallop: What I am referring to is the fact that this is a small community, and we must be certain that Mr. Brewmaster works with us.
Mr. Flapdoodle: He has his own bar. He doesn't need a job.
Mr. Codswallop: The clientele is large enough for both establishments, and me must reassure Mr. Brewmaster that our business will not harm his custom.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Maybe some joint bar crawls.
Mr. Codswallop: That may work indeed; whatever they are.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Don't worry. Both places will make money.
Mr. Codswallop: That calls for a toast.
Mr. Flapdoodle: You can have toast. I'll have a drink!
Comments
Mr. Flapdoodle: What would the bar have to do with someone named Ethel??
Mr. Codswallop: It has just occurred to me, that the bird and snake establishment has never been officially closed, and we are entering into competition with Mr. Brewmaster.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I nover entered that contest.
Mr. Codswallop: While I lack the latest gazette of laws pertaining to the establishment of night clubs in this fair community, I do believe it is unethical.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Cousin Ezra gazed at the laws a lot. From between bars.
Mr. Codswallop: Perhaps we should discuss our business proposal with Mr. Brewmaster.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I'm not proposing to anyone!
Mr. Codswallop: What I am referring to, is a meeting with Mr. Brewmaster, regarding a businesslike transfer of licence.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Don't drive drunk or you'll lose your licence like Uncle Hiram. Twice.
Mr. Codswallop: We must meet with Mr. Brewmaster. He cannot be too pleased with our opening, and our not informing him of our plans!
Mr. Flapdoodle: That calls for a drink too!
Mr. Codswallop: Are you not concerned with conducting a summit as to the legality of this measure?
Mr. Flapdoodle: I applied for a train conductor job once. I didn't get it.
Mr. Codswallop: What I am referring to is the fact that this is a small community, and we must be certain that Mr. Brewmaster works with us.
Mr. Flapdoodle: He has his own bar. He doesn't need a job.
Mr. Codswallop: The clientele is large enough for both establishments, and me must reassure Mr. Brewmaster that our business will not harm his custom.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Maybe some joint bar crawls.
Mr. Codswallop: That may work indeed; whatever they are.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Don't worry. Both places will make money.
Mr. Codswallop: That calls for a toast.
Mr. Flapdoodle: You can have toast. I'll have a drink!
Comments
Sunday, January 25, 2004
Free the Dom
Mr. Codswallop: I can not imagine for the life of me, why that supposed Lodge of yours, selected you to give the keynote speech.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Yup. On Freedom.
Mr. Codswallop: Once again, by lacking any originality, your Club's so-called leaders have let someone else choose the subject of the address.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I like the Blogger Idol by Darren Rowse. I watched his show.
Mr. Codswallop: You like anything, that gives you the freedom, to make the most outlandish of pronouncements.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Hey. Don't give the speech idea away.
Mr. Codswallop: Everyone knows you are going to be pontificating about freedom.
Mr. Flapdoodle: The Reverend Bicklighter said pontificating would make you go blind.
Mr. Codswallop: Have you got the text ready for...what are your supposed Lodge Brethren titled again?
Mr. Flapdoodle: The Royal Order of the Porcupines.
Mr. Codswallop: Have you written anything as of yet?
Mr. Flapdoodle: Well, I thought of fishing.
Mr. Codswallop: Ah yes, in keeping with the concept of giving a man a fish, he eats for a day.
Mr. Flapdoodle: What kind of fish did you give him?
Mr. Codswallop: The species of fish is not germane to the subject at hand.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Well some fish are big enough for more than one day.
Mr. Codswallop: I am simply quoting a wise proverb.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Yup, the people in that business are smart. They aren't free though.
Mr. Codswallop: To what profession are you referring?
Mr. Flapdoodle: Well, the Dom they had at Cousin Ezra's bachelor party wasn't free. I think she was called Madame Freda Dom. Close though.
Mr. Codswallop: Well, be that as it may, if you teach a man to fish, he can feed himself for a lifetime.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Wouldn't he get tired of eating fish all the time?
Mr. Codswallop: The concept is about how a person can break the bonds of poverty, and be free to make his or her way in the world.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I think bondage should be free between adults too.
Mr. Codswallop: It is not about your questionable sexual practices. The discussion is about earning a living.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Everyone told me to stop fishing, and get a job. Now you are saying I should go fishing.
Mr. Codswallop: Fishing is merely a metaphor for freedom.
Mr. Flapdoodle: You met a few fisherman? Why didn't you tell me. We could have tried our luck.
Mr. Codswallop: I am looking forward to your alleged speech to the assembled Porcupines.
Mr. Flapdoodle: You are free to listen. I won't be on a ledge though.
Mr. Codswallop: I was referring to the gathering of the Porcupines.
Mr. Flapdoodle: They will all be too drunk to care anyway. They won't throw you off a ledge.
Mr.Codswallop: It will not matter what you say then?
Mr. Flapdoodle: They have the freedom, as Lodge members, to do as they please.
Mr. Codswallop: That is a blessing indeed.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Yup, it sure is.
Comments
Mr. Flapdoodle: Yup. On Freedom.
Mr. Codswallop: Once again, by lacking any originality, your Club's so-called leaders have let someone else choose the subject of the address.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I like the Blogger Idol by Darren Rowse. I watched his show.
Mr. Codswallop: You like anything, that gives you the freedom, to make the most outlandish of pronouncements.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Hey. Don't give the speech idea away.
Mr. Codswallop: Everyone knows you are going to be pontificating about freedom.
Mr. Flapdoodle: The Reverend Bicklighter said pontificating would make you go blind.
Mr. Codswallop: Have you got the text ready for...what are your supposed Lodge Brethren titled again?
Mr. Flapdoodle: The Royal Order of the Porcupines.
Mr. Codswallop: Have you written anything as of yet?
Mr. Flapdoodle: Well, I thought of fishing.
Mr. Codswallop: Ah yes, in keeping with the concept of giving a man a fish, he eats for a day.
Mr. Flapdoodle: What kind of fish did you give him?
Mr. Codswallop: The species of fish is not germane to the subject at hand.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Well some fish are big enough for more than one day.
Mr. Codswallop: I am simply quoting a wise proverb.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Yup, the people in that business are smart. They aren't free though.
Mr. Codswallop: To what profession are you referring?
Mr. Flapdoodle: Well, the Dom they had at Cousin Ezra's bachelor party wasn't free. I think she was called Madame Freda Dom. Close though.
Mr. Codswallop: Well, be that as it may, if you teach a man to fish, he can feed himself for a lifetime.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Wouldn't he get tired of eating fish all the time?
Mr. Codswallop: The concept is about how a person can break the bonds of poverty, and be free to make his or her way in the world.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I think bondage should be free between adults too.
Mr. Codswallop: It is not about your questionable sexual practices. The discussion is about earning a living.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Everyone told me to stop fishing, and get a job. Now you are saying I should go fishing.
Mr. Codswallop: Fishing is merely a metaphor for freedom.
Mr. Flapdoodle: You met a few fisherman? Why didn't you tell me. We could have tried our luck.
Mr. Codswallop: I am looking forward to your alleged speech to the assembled Porcupines.
Mr. Flapdoodle: You are free to listen. I won't be on a ledge though.
Mr. Codswallop: I was referring to the gathering of the Porcupines.
Mr. Flapdoodle: They will all be too drunk to care anyway. They won't throw you off a ledge.
Mr.Codswallop: It will not matter what you say then?
Mr. Flapdoodle: They have the freedom, as Lodge members, to do as they please.
Mr. Codswallop: That is a blessing indeed.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Yup, it sure is.
Comments
Saturday, January 24, 2004
Barring Disaster....Getting the Business
On a darkened street, in what could only be charitably described as a colourful part of town, came the echoes of hammering in the darkness. Inside the desolate and darkened warehouse, looking from the outside as if several generations had passed since its last occupation, two unlikely carpenters are at work. Between the staccatoed hammerings, were loud curses, and screams of concerns about injured thumbs. The new saloon was being readied for business.
Mr. Codswallop: This plebian carpentry work is not what I was bred to achieve.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Then why are you here?
Mr. Coswallop (not wanting to admit to his financial lacking): I had hoped to be awarded a position more suited to my station in life.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I worked at a service station once. The gas fumes kept me high as a kite.
Mr. Codswallop: Not that sort of station! I was referring to a position of authority and responsibility.
Mr. Flapdoodle: You are really kinky! S & M! I never knew! Wow!
Mr. Codswallop: Well, at least as proprietors of a respectable night club, we can rub shoulders with the better sorts.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Well, the ladies have shoulders I want to rub!
Mr. Codswallop: Perhaps we should offer a decor that hearkens to the glorious night clubs of old!
Mr. Flapdoodle: You mean speakeasies and booze cans?
Mr. Codswallop: I mean an establishment where everyone can feel important.
Mr. Flapdoodle: And drunk and high too!
Mr. Codswallop: In our previous tavern of preference, as managed by the noctournal avian and the reptile....
Mr. Flapdoodle:....you mean The Owl and Serpent?
Mr. Codswallop:....the clientele were empowered to create the atmosphere of their own choosing.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I made the rest rooms close, if you have no choice.
Mr. Codswallop: Perhaps we should continue in that grand tradition and let the customers decide their own locales.
Mr. Flapdoodle: It would save me a lot of hammering; and both of your thumbs.
Mr. Codswallop: We should strive for a Grand Opening extravaganza, as an inaugeral highlight.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I opened lots of bars. Closed a lot too.
Mr. Codswallop:With champagne, dancing, and an abundance of food for all tastes and palates.
Mr. Flapdoodle: And beer and pretzels. On plates if you insist.
Mr. Codswallop: We shall have a veritable banquet of culinary delights!
Mr. Flapdoodle: I'm callin' for a banquet too.
Mr. Codswallop: We must send out some embossed invitations, for the Grand Opening, of "The Flapping Cod".
Mr. Flapdoodle: That'll be boss alright!
Comments
Mr. Codswallop: This plebian carpentry work is not what I was bred to achieve.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Then why are you here?
Mr. Coswallop (not wanting to admit to his financial lacking): I had hoped to be awarded a position more suited to my station in life.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I worked at a service station once. The gas fumes kept me high as a kite.
Mr. Codswallop: Not that sort of station! I was referring to a position of authority and responsibility.
Mr. Flapdoodle: You are really kinky! S & M! I never knew! Wow!
Mr. Codswallop: Well, at least as proprietors of a respectable night club, we can rub shoulders with the better sorts.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Well, the ladies have shoulders I want to rub!
Mr. Codswallop: Perhaps we should offer a decor that hearkens to the glorious night clubs of old!
Mr. Flapdoodle: You mean speakeasies and booze cans?
Mr. Codswallop: I mean an establishment where everyone can feel important.
Mr. Flapdoodle: And drunk and high too!
Mr. Codswallop: In our previous tavern of preference, as managed by the noctournal avian and the reptile....
Mr. Flapdoodle:....you mean The Owl and Serpent?
Mr. Codswallop:....the clientele were empowered to create the atmosphere of their own choosing.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I made the rest rooms close, if you have no choice.
Mr. Codswallop: Perhaps we should continue in that grand tradition and let the customers decide their own locales.
Mr. Flapdoodle: It would save me a lot of hammering; and both of your thumbs.
Mr. Codswallop: We should strive for a Grand Opening extravaganza, as an inaugeral highlight.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I opened lots of bars. Closed a lot too.
Mr. Codswallop:With champagne, dancing, and an abundance of food for all tastes and palates.
Mr. Flapdoodle: And beer and pretzels. On plates if you insist.
Mr. Codswallop: We shall have a veritable banquet of culinary delights!
Mr. Flapdoodle: I'm callin' for a banquet too.
Mr. Codswallop: We must send out some embossed invitations, for the Grand Opening, of "The Flapping Cod".
Mr. Flapdoodle: That'll be boss alright!
Comments
Friday, January 23, 2004
Weekend Wanderings....and Weddings?
Mr. Codswallop settled back into their chairs, close to the roaring fireplace. The Owl & Serpent was quite busy, and coversations were going on everywhere in the friendly tavern.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I'm sure glad it's the weekend.
Mr. Codswallop: Whatever for? The day of the week, should really make no earthly difference to you, one way or the other.
Mr. Flapdoodle: That's not true. Friday and Saturday are special nights.
Mr. Codswallop: Well then, what of Sunday?
Mr. Flapdoodle: It's my day to get over my hangover.
Mr. Codswallop: I should have guessed as much.
Mr. Flapdoodle: What are you guessing? Has the bartender got that guess the number of jelly beans jar out again?
Mr. Codswallop: Since you are not gainfully engaged in any capacity, the day should mean little in your life.
Mr. Flapdoodle: You are going to the capitol city to get engaged? Who's the...well...lucky lady?
Mr. Codswallop: What I mean to say, is that you have no job, to earn you any form of recompense.
Mr. Flapdoodle: So when are you popping the question?
Mr. Codswallop: I am not getting married. Whatever gave you that preposterous idea?
Mr. Flapdoodle: Well, that marriage didn't even last as long as Britney Spears.
Mr. Codswallop: Are you ever going to look for a job? is that plain enough for you?
Mr. Flapdoodle: I get by. I work a lot, you know.
Mr. Codswallop: i do not want to even know where that might perchance take place.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Hey, do you think I could marry Britney Spears?
Mr. Codswallop: Why would you ask such a ridiculous question?
Mr. Flapdoodle: Well, the marriage would end quickly, and I might get to keep some presents.
Mr. Codswallop: You must consider the young lady's feelings in the matter.
Mr. Flapdoodle: It would be great for her career.
Mr. Codswallop: I doubt any matrimonial arrangement with yourself could benefit her supposed career.
Mr. Flapdoodle: It sure would. I can see it now. Famed singer weds local playboy.
Mr. Codswallop: That would have to be the most superfluous headline of all time.
Mr. Flapdoodle: It sure would be super alright.
Mr. Codswallop: I suppose you would want to end the mismatch as quickly as possible as well.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Well, she might not want to stop being Mrs. Flapdoodle.
Mr. Codswallop: There you have it then, the ultimate deterrent.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I suppose you're right. She wouldn't want to stop singing just for me.
Mr. Codswallop: She is a singer?
Comments
Mr. Flapdoodle: I'm sure glad it's the weekend.
Mr. Codswallop: Whatever for? The day of the week, should really make no earthly difference to you, one way or the other.
Mr. Flapdoodle: That's not true. Friday and Saturday are special nights.
Mr. Codswallop: Well then, what of Sunday?
Mr. Flapdoodle: It's my day to get over my hangover.
Mr. Codswallop: I should have guessed as much.
Mr. Flapdoodle: What are you guessing? Has the bartender got that guess the number of jelly beans jar out again?
Mr. Codswallop: Since you are not gainfully engaged in any capacity, the day should mean little in your life.
Mr. Flapdoodle: You are going to the capitol city to get engaged? Who's the...well...lucky lady?
Mr. Codswallop: What I mean to say, is that you have no job, to earn you any form of recompense.
Mr. Flapdoodle: So when are you popping the question?
Mr. Codswallop: I am not getting married. Whatever gave you that preposterous idea?
Mr. Flapdoodle: Well, that marriage didn't even last as long as Britney Spears.
Mr. Codswallop: Are you ever going to look for a job? is that plain enough for you?
Mr. Flapdoodle: I get by. I work a lot, you know.
Mr. Codswallop: i do not want to even know where that might perchance take place.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Hey, do you think I could marry Britney Spears?
Mr. Codswallop: Why would you ask such a ridiculous question?
Mr. Flapdoodle: Well, the marriage would end quickly, and I might get to keep some presents.
Mr. Codswallop: You must consider the young lady's feelings in the matter.
Mr. Flapdoodle: It would be great for her career.
Mr. Codswallop: I doubt any matrimonial arrangement with yourself could benefit her supposed career.
Mr. Flapdoodle: It sure would. I can see it now. Famed singer weds local playboy.
Mr. Codswallop: That would have to be the most superfluous headline of all time.
Mr. Flapdoodle: It sure would be super alright.
Mr. Codswallop: I suppose you would want to end the mismatch as quickly as possible as well.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Well, she might not want to stop being Mrs. Flapdoodle.
Mr. Codswallop: There you have it then, the ultimate deterrent.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I suppose you're right. She wouldn't want to stop singing just for me.
Mr. Codswallop: She is a singer?
Comments
Thursday, January 22, 2004
A Codswallop Family Visit: The Finale
The Codswallop family, including Uncle Cyrus, Uncle Cedric, and Mr. Codswallop, found their places around the huge oak conference table. Mr. Flapdoodle and Her Ladyship of Pyle Manor found available chairs, and were seated.
Uncle Cyrus: This charade has gone on long enough!
Mr. Flapdoodle: No one told me were playing charades. I was never very good at that game.
Uncle Cyrus: Silence!
Uncle Cedric: Oh Cyrus, try not to raise your blood pressure.
Mr. Codswallop: Has everyone got their documents?
Mr. Flapdoodle: But....
Uncle Cyrus: Silence, I say!
Mr. Flapdoodle: But I wanted....
Uncle Cyrus: One more word out of you, and I shall have the Constable arrest you.
Mr. Codswallop: These papers look...
Her Ladyship: We are bored and we want to get to New York. We must be seen at the Opera. Prince Charles may be in attendance.
Uncle Cyrus: Sign the papers. Now!
With that loud command, Uncle Cedric, Uncle Cyrus, and a very distraught Mr. Codswallop signed on the dotted line. Each signing spot was conveniently marked with a letter X.
Uncle Cyrus: Now, I shall be off to claim my money!
Uncle Cedric: Oh well, easy come, and easy go.
Mr. Codswallop: Her Ladyship will help him spend it, I'm sure.
In the corner of the room, Mr. Flapdoodle was seen in fits of laughter. His mirth was uncontrollable, as he rolled off his chair, and crashed loudly to the floor.
Mr. Codswallop: It seems poor Flapdoodle has succumbed to the pressure.
Uncle Cedric: Cyrus can have that effect on people.
Finally, after several long and agonizing minutes, Mr. Flapdoodle was able to almost control his giggling fit.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Has.....Cyrus....gone....yet?
Mr. Codswallop: Yes, he and Her Ladyship have already driven away, with their undeserved booty.
Mr. Flapdoodle: No...they....haven't...
With that remark, Mr. Flapdoodle burst into another fit of laughter. Eventually, he recovered enough to almost speak.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Read....the....papers....
Mr. Codswallop: We have signed different documents!
Uncle Cedric: Cyrus has turned control of the Fund over to our nephew!
Mr. Flapdoodle: I...tried...to...tell... him...
Mr. Codswallop: Of course, Flapdoodle placed the papers where he thought everyone would be seated.
Uncle Cedric: We all know Cyrus would prefer his back to the window, but today, Her Ladyship insisted on the Sun shining on their moment of triumph.
Mr. Codswallop: I sat by the window instead.
Uncle Cedric: It seems Flapdoodle kept trying to tell Cyrus that he was in the wrong chair.
Mr. Codswallop:Uncle Cyrus refused to allow Flapdoodle to speak.
Uncle Cedric: It appears Cyrus has signed away everything to you.
Mr. Codswallop: And we owe it all to Flapdoodle.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Let's...drink..to...that...
Mr. Codswallop: Indeed we shall.
Uncle Cedric: Cyrus will not be amused, but I only regret not seeing the look on his face.
Mr. Codswallop: I for one am glad I missed that privilege.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Cheers.
Comments
A Codswallop Family Visit IVUncle Cyrus: This charade has gone on long enough!
Mr. Flapdoodle: No one told me were playing charades. I was never very good at that game.
Uncle Cyrus: Silence!
Uncle Cedric: Oh Cyrus, try not to raise your blood pressure.
Mr. Codswallop: Has everyone got their documents?
Mr. Flapdoodle: But....
Uncle Cyrus: Silence, I say!
Mr. Flapdoodle: But I wanted....
Uncle Cyrus: One more word out of you, and I shall have the Constable arrest you.
Mr. Codswallop: These papers look...
Her Ladyship: We are bored and we want to get to New York. We must be seen at the Opera. Prince Charles may be in attendance.
Uncle Cyrus: Sign the papers. Now!
With that loud command, Uncle Cedric, Uncle Cyrus, and a very distraught Mr. Codswallop signed on the dotted line. Each signing spot was conveniently marked with a letter X.
Uncle Cyrus: Now, I shall be off to claim my money!
Uncle Cedric: Oh well, easy come, and easy go.
Mr. Codswallop: Her Ladyship will help him spend it, I'm sure.
In the corner of the room, Mr. Flapdoodle was seen in fits of laughter. His mirth was uncontrollable, as he rolled off his chair, and crashed loudly to the floor.
Mr. Codswallop: It seems poor Flapdoodle has succumbed to the pressure.
Uncle Cedric: Cyrus can have that effect on people.
Finally, after several long and agonizing minutes, Mr. Flapdoodle was able to almost control his giggling fit.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Has.....Cyrus....gone....yet?
Mr. Codswallop: Yes, he and Her Ladyship have already driven away, with their undeserved booty.
Mr. Flapdoodle: No...they....haven't...
With that remark, Mr. Flapdoodle burst into another fit of laughter. Eventually, he recovered enough to almost speak.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Read....the....papers....
Mr. Codswallop: We have signed different documents!
Uncle Cedric: Cyrus has turned control of the Fund over to our nephew!
Mr. Flapdoodle: I...tried...to...tell... him...
Mr. Codswallop: Of course, Flapdoodle placed the papers where he thought everyone would be seated.
Uncle Cedric: We all know Cyrus would prefer his back to the window, but today, Her Ladyship insisted on the Sun shining on their moment of triumph.
Mr. Codswallop: I sat by the window instead.
Uncle Cedric: It seems Flapdoodle kept trying to tell Cyrus that he was in the wrong chair.
Mr. Codswallop:Uncle Cyrus refused to allow Flapdoodle to speak.
Uncle Cedric: It appears Cyrus has signed away everything to you.
Mr. Codswallop: And we owe it all to Flapdoodle.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Let's...drink..to...that...
Mr. Codswallop: Indeed we shall.
Uncle Cedric: Cyrus will not be amused, but I only regret not seeing the look on his face.
Mr. Codswallop: I for one am glad I missed that privilege.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Cheers.
Comments
Sitting around the enormous round oak table were Mr. Codswallop, Mr. Flapdoodle, Uncle Cyrus Codswallop, and Her Ladyship of Pyle Manor. Spread before them were a stack of legal documents.
Uncle Cyrus: I say! It is high time we resolved this legal matter. Here is a pen, nephew. SIgn!
Mr. Codswallop: I would prefer to read the documentation and perhaps have it examined by a qualified attorney.
Uncle Cyrus: You are stalling. You could never afford the services of even an incompetent novice solicitor, freshly churned out from a cheap law school, that accepts just anyone.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Even me?
Uncle Cyrus: Silence you blithering oaf!
Mr. Flapdoodle: I was just asking a question. You sure are grouchy for a guy who's trying to steal the family's money.
Uncle Cyrus: Out with you. There is no reason for you to be here. You have no stake in this matter.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Hey! Steak for lunch! I like that. Thanks Cyrus.
Mr. Codswallop: I would then think that Her Ladyship would be expelled from this meeting as well.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Hey. I was almost expelled from school once....well...a lot.
Uncle Cyrus: This meeting is going nowhere in a great hurry.
Her Ladyship: I am bored Cyrus darling. Why not have your idiotic nephew, simply place his signature, and end this dreadful business.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Hey, Lady Boat person, wanna go fishing instead?
Uncle Cyrus: How dare you address Her Ladyship in such an impertinant manner.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I never said anything about her dress, or whatever animal manure you were talking about.
Mr. Codswallop: While you have been discussing trivialities, I have been reading these documents.
Uncle Cyrus: Your literacy level surprises me. I always doubted you had any more letters than your stupid friend.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I get a lot of letters, and even more bills.
Mr. Codswallop: I am not certain that I want to sign these release forms.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Cod always likes to catch and release when he fishes.
Uncle Cyrus: Sign! Now! That is an order!You are slower than Cedric!
Mr. Flapdoodle: Shouldn't Cedric have to sign too?
Mr. Codswallop: That's right! Uncle Cedric should be here to at least defend himself on the allegations.
Uncle Cyrus: There is no need for Cedric to appear.
Mr. Codswallop: Uncle Cedric is due to return tomorrow, following the financial collapse of his latest adventure.
With that remark, Mr. Codswallop and Mr. Flapdoodle got up from their chairs and left the room, leaving Uncle Cyrus staring in disbelief. Her Ladyship continued to scowl, as was her custom.
Mr. Codswallop: That was what you would so colloquially refer to as a close call.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Yup.
Mr. Codswallop: Tomorrow, we shall have Uncle Cedric to consider as well.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Wanna go to the bar?
Mr. Codswallop: Splendid idea!
Comments
Uncle Cyrus: I say! It is high time we resolved this legal matter. Here is a pen, nephew. SIgn!
Mr. Codswallop: I would prefer to read the documentation and perhaps have it examined by a qualified attorney.
Uncle Cyrus: You are stalling. You could never afford the services of even an incompetent novice solicitor, freshly churned out from a cheap law school, that accepts just anyone.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Even me?
Uncle Cyrus: Silence you blithering oaf!
Mr. Flapdoodle: I was just asking a question. You sure are grouchy for a guy who's trying to steal the family's money.
Uncle Cyrus: Out with you. There is no reason for you to be here. You have no stake in this matter.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Hey! Steak for lunch! I like that. Thanks Cyrus.
Mr. Codswallop: I would then think that Her Ladyship would be expelled from this meeting as well.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Hey. I was almost expelled from school once....well...a lot.
Uncle Cyrus: This meeting is going nowhere in a great hurry.
Her Ladyship: I am bored Cyrus darling. Why not have your idiotic nephew, simply place his signature, and end this dreadful business.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Hey, Lady Boat person, wanna go fishing instead?
Uncle Cyrus: How dare you address Her Ladyship in such an impertinant manner.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I never said anything about her dress, or whatever animal manure you were talking about.
Mr. Codswallop: While you have been discussing trivialities, I have been reading these documents.
Uncle Cyrus: Your literacy level surprises me. I always doubted you had any more letters than your stupid friend.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I get a lot of letters, and even more bills.
Mr. Codswallop: I am not certain that I want to sign these release forms.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Cod always likes to catch and release when he fishes.
Uncle Cyrus: Sign! Now! That is an order!You are slower than Cedric!
Mr. Flapdoodle: Shouldn't Cedric have to sign too?
Mr. Codswallop: That's right! Uncle Cedric should be here to at least defend himself on the allegations.
Uncle Cyrus: There is no need for Cedric to appear.
Mr. Codswallop: Uncle Cedric is due to return tomorrow, following the financial collapse of his latest adventure.
With that remark, Mr. Codswallop and Mr. Flapdoodle got up from their chairs and left the room, leaving Uncle Cyrus staring in disbelief. Her Ladyship continued to scowl, as was her custom.
Mr. Codswallop: That was what you would so colloquially refer to as a close call.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Yup.
Mr. Codswallop: Tomorrow, we shall have Uncle Cedric to consider as well.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Wanna go to the bar?
Mr. Codswallop: Splendid idea!
Comments
Tuesday, January 20, 2004
A Codswallop Family Visit III
Mr. Codswallop was very nervous as he prepared to meet his fearsome Uncle Cyrus. His past experiences with his eldest uncle had never gone very well. After each torturous meeting, Mr. Codswallop had always gone away feeling weak and helpless.
He sincerely hoped this time would be much different.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Don't worry about old Cyrus. Here have belt of this.
Mr. Codswallop: Uncle Cyrus is such an overbearing individual.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Here, take this double blast of McGillicutty's Finest, nothing can seem bad after that.
Mr. Codswallop: That was what that vile concoction was? I shall be infirm for a fortnight.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I don't know about being in a fort, but nothing could be worse than the taste of McGillicutty's home brew.
Mr. Codswallop: Perhaps if Her Ladyship of Pyle Manor were absent, it would be better for us.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Hey, there's an idea. I'll go with you and keep her occupied. We'll talk about boats.
Mr. Codswallop: Under normal circumstances, your presence might be an unmitigated disaster. In this instance, that might be the most prudent course of action.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I'm all for courses, as long as I don't have to study.
Mr. Codswallop: Here is Uncle Cyrus and Her Ladyship now.
Mr. Codswallop and Mr. Flapdoodle were approached by a very stern looking man, who stood straight and tall. He was accompanies by a woman, often referred to as "handsome", but for wearing a fixed scowl on her face.
Mr. Codswallop: Good afternoon Uncle Cyrus, and to Your Ladyship.
Uncle Cyrus: What's that ne'er do well doing here. I will not have Her Ladyship sullied by his presence in this chamber.
Mr. Flapdoodle: That's okay. She seems to like manure, so the chamber should be fine with her.
Her Ladyship: How dare you speak to me like that. You are a most insolent and vulgar creature.
Mr. Codswallop: Perhaps you would like some refreshments? Something for Her Ladyship?
Uncle Cyrus: Perhaps some twelve year old Scotch would be fine and some fine Sherry for the Lady.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Hey Cyrus, while Cod's getting the fancy booze, have a snort of this.
Uncle Cyrus: What disgusting concoction are you attempting to foist upon my person?
Mr. Flapdoodle: I wasn't going to spill any on you. It might burn through your clothes.
Uncle Cyrus: Get out of here at once. This is a Codswallop family matter.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Fine. Come on ma'am, I'll show you my motor boat. I hear you like them.
Uncle Cyrus: She is staying.
Mr. Flapdoodle: But she's not a Codswallop either.
Uncle Cyrus: She will be when she and I are wedded in holy matrimony.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Well, I'm Codswallop's business partner. So we're even.
Uncle Cyrus: You are engaged in business? Probably some criminal activity, I'll wager. It's bad enough that you imply that my rather dull witted nephew is involved in something as vulgar as trade, but with the likes of you. That is too preposterous for words.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Hey, Codswallop doesn't trade, but I'll take a friendly wager with you. Watcha got for odds?
Uncle Cyrus: I can see that this meeting will resolve nothing. I shall take my leave of this place, and claim the Fund.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Perhaps, we can work out a deal.
Uncle Cyrus: What sort of, to use your vulgar term deal, could we possibly arrange?
Mr. Flapdoodle: Well, let's just think about it a bit, and we'll meet back here tomorrow.
Uncle Cyrus: Agreed. And say good bye to that imbecilic nephew of mine.
Flapdoodle: Bye Cyrus. Bye Boat Lady.
Mr. Codswallop: Where have they gone? I have their refreshments.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Thanks. I'll drink them. They are coming back tomorrow to meet.
Mr. Codswallop: Whatever for?
Mr. Flapdoodle: I have no idea. I just liked jerking old Cyrus around a bit. Comments
He sincerely hoped this time would be much different.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Don't worry about old Cyrus. Here have belt of this.
Mr. Codswallop: Uncle Cyrus is such an overbearing individual.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Here, take this double blast of McGillicutty's Finest, nothing can seem bad after that.
Mr. Codswallop: That was what that vile concoction was? I shall be infirm for a fortnight.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I don't know about being in a fort, but nothing could be worse than the taste of McGillicutty's home brew.
Mr. Codswallop: Perhaps if Her Ladyship of Pyle Manor were absent, it would be better for us.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Hey, there's an idea. I'll go with you and keep her occupied. We'll talk about boats.
Mr. Codswallop: Under normal circumstances, your presence might be an unmitigated disaster. In this instance, that might be the most prudent course of action.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I'm all for courses, as long as I don't have to study.
Mr. Codswallop: Here is Uncle Cyrus and Her Ladyship now.
Mr. Codswallop and Mr. Flapdoodle were approached by a very stern looking man, who stood straight and tall. He was accompanies by a woman, often referred to as "handsome", but for wearing a fixed scowl on her face.
Mr. Codswallop: Good afternoon Uncle Cyrus, and to Your Ladyship.
Uncle Cyrus: What's that ne'er do well doing here. I will not have Her Ladyship sullied by his presence in this chamber.
Mr. Flapdoodle: That's okay. She seems to like manure, so the chamber should be fine with her.
Her Ladyship: How dare you speak to me like that. You are a most insolent and vulgar creature.
Mr. Codswallop: Perhaps you would like some refreshments? Something for Her Ladyship?
Uncle Cyrus: Perhaps some twelve year old Scotch would be fine and some fine Sherry for the Lady.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Hey Cyrus, while Cod's getting the fancy booze, have a snort of this.
Uncle Cyrus: What disgusting concoction are you attempting to foist upon my person?
Mr. Flapdoodle: I wasn't going to spill any on you. It might burn through your clothes.
Uncle Cyrus: Get out of here at once. This is a Codswallop family matter.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Fine. Come on ma'am, I'll show you my motor boat. I hear you like them.
Uncle Cyrus: She is staying.
Mr. Flapdoodle: But she's not a Codswallop either.
Uncle Cyrus: She will be when she and I are wedded in holy matrimony.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Well, I'm Codswallop's business partner. So we're even.
Uncle Cyrus: You are engaged in business? Probably some criminal activity, I'll wager. It's bad enough that you imply that my rather dull witted nephew is involved in something as vulgar as trade, but with the likes of you. That is too preposterous for words.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Hey, Codswallop doesn't trade, but I'll take a friendly wager with you. Watcha got for odds?
Uncle Cyrus: I can see that this meeting will resolve nothing. I shall take my leave of this place, and claim the Fund.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Perhaps, we can work out a deal.
Uncle Cyrus: What sort of, to use your vulgar term deal, could we possibly arrange?
Mr. Flapdoodle: Well, let's just think about it a bit, and we'll meet back here tomorrow.
Uncle Cyrus: Agreed. And say good bye to that imbecilic nephew of mine.
Flapdoodle: Bye Cyrus. Bye Boat Lady.
Mr. Codswallop: Where have they gone? I have their refreshments.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Thanks. I'll drink them. They are coming back tomorrow to meet.
Mr. Codswallop: Whatever for?
Mr. Flapdoodle: I have no idea. I just liked jerking old Cyrus around a bit. Comments
Monday, January 19, 2004
A Codswallop Family Visit II
Mr. Codswallop was very quiet as he sipped his single malt Scotch. Mr. Flapdoodle had not been able to get his friend to speak more than a few, almost meaningless babblings. Finally, Mr. Codswallop began to stir.
Mr. Codswallop: It was dreadful. Simply dreadful.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Nothing could be that bad.
Mr. Codswallop: You have no comprehension of the gravity of the situation.
Mr. Flapdoodle: You're right. I failed gravity at school.
Mr. Codswallop: Uncle Cyrus has declared that the Codswallop Family Trust will be held solely in his hands.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I wouldn't trust anyone who wore shoes on their hands either.
Mr. Codswallop: The entire Fund will be taken over by Uncle Cyrus. He will control every penny of it.
Mr. Flapdoodle: No one in your family ever gave me a penny either, except you and your Uncle Cedric. By the way, is Cedric back from his latest expedition yet?
Mr. Codswallop: Uncle Cedric has been ordered to return, as his funding for his scientific projects was revoked.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I'd be provoked too.
Mr. Codswallop: We must do something to prevent Uncle Cyrus, and Her Ladyship, from seizing every cent in the Codswallop Trust.
mr. Flapdoodle: She has a boat too? No wonder she needs some cash. Uncle Hiram had a huge motor boat once, cost a fortune in repairs.
Mr. Codswallop: Uncle Cyrus is making allegations, that Uncle Cedric is misappropriating the funds, by diverting them to his scientific voyages.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I never knew Uncle Cyrus could make anything. He was never very good with his hands. Remember when Cyrus fixed the chair, and one leg was shorter than the rest. He kept on cutting and soon there were no legs left. It still never did sit straight. I used it for firewood.
Mr. Codswallop: The entire issue is wrapped up in extemely complex legalities, and I lack the necessary resources to hire an attorney.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Well, unwrap it and have a look at it. Cheaper than a lawyer. Cousin Ezra needed a lawyer once, well, several times really. Never got him off ever, that I know of. Cheaper to just go yourself. You lose anyway.
Mr. Codswallop: Flapdoodle! You are brilliant! I shall confront Uncle Cyrus myself, and state the case on behalf of the family.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Then if he doesn't listen to you, can I pop him with my shotgun?
Mr. Codswallop: The best approach will be to discuss the matter calmly and in a civilized manner. I'm positive that Uncle Cyrus, and Her Ladyship of Pyle Manor, will understand that the Fund was created for all members of the family.
Mr. Flapdoodle: You tell him! And the manure lady too. I'd sure like to see her boat though!
Comments
Mr. Codswallop: It was dreadful. Simply dreadful.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Nothing could be that bad.
Mr. Codswallop: You have no comprehension of the gravity of the situation.
Mr. Flapdoodle: You're right. I failed gravity at school.
Mr. Codswallop: Uncle Cyrus has declared that the Codswallop Family Trust will be held solely in his hands.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I wouldn't trust anyone who wore shoes on their hands either.
Mr. Codswallop: The entire Fund will be taken over by Uncle Cyrus. He will control every penny of it.
Mr. Flapdoodle: No one in your family ever gave me a penny either, except you and your Uncle Cedric. By the way, is Cedric back from his latest expedition yet?
Mr. Codswallop: Uncle Cedric has been ordered to return, as his funding for his scientific projects was revoked.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I'd be provoked too.
Mr. Codswallop: We must do something to prevent Uncle Cyrus, and Her Ladyship, from seizing every cent in the Codswallop Trust.
mr. Flapdoodle: She has a boat too? No wonder she needs some cash. Uncle Hiram had a huge motor boat once, cost a fortune in repairs.
Mr. Codswallop: Uncle Cyrus is making allegations, that Uncle Cedric is misappropriating the funds, by diverting them to his scientific voyages.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I never knew Uncle Cyrus could make anything. He was never very good with his hands. Remember when Cyrus fixed the chair, and one leg was shorter than the rest. He kept on cutting and soon there were no legs left. It still never did sit straight. I used it for firewood.
Mr. Codswallop: The entire issue is wrapped up in extemely complex legalities, and I lack the necessary resources to hire an attorney.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Well, unwrap it and have a look at it. Cheaper than a lawyer. Cousin Ezra needed a lawyer once, well, several times really. Never got him off ever, that I know of. Cheaper to just go yourself. You lose anyway.
Mr. Codswallop: Flapdoodle! You are brilliant! I shall confront Uncle Cyrus myself, and state the case on behalf of the family.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Then if he doesn't listen to you, can I pop him with my shotgun?
Mr. Codswallop: The best approach will be to discuss the matter calmly and in a civilized manner. I'm positive that Uncle Cyrus, and Her Ladyship of Pyle Manor, will understand that the Fund was created for all members of the family.
Mr. Flapdoodle: You tell him! And the manure lady too. I'd sure like to see her boat though!
Comments
Sunday, January 18, 2004
A Codswallop Family Visit
Entering the Saloon, Mr. Codswallop had a look of worry spread over his entire face. Mr. Flapdoodle seemed unconcerned with the issue.
Mr. Codswallop: Please be a good sport and order me a double of the finest Scotch.
Mr. Flapdoodle: You look like you need to celebrate a bit.
Mr. Codswallop: Alas, we are not looking at a festive event. Instead, we have a visit from Uncle Cyrus.
Mr. Flapdoodle: That's always good for a laugh.
Mr. Codswallop: How can you not be concerned at this momentous occurrance? Uncle Cyrus is critical of everyone and everything.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Then there's nothing to worry about, is there?
Mr. Codswallop: I knew that you would never understand. Uncle Cyrus always considered you to be a bad influence.
Mr. Flapdoodle: That's because whenever I meet the guy, I prefer to be under the influence.
Mr. Codswallop: He is plotting something, I just know it. He is always attempting to stage manage everyone's life.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I never worry about him. He just needs to lighten up a bit.
Mr. Codswallop: Apparently, he is also escorting his lady friend.
Mr. Flapdoodle: You mean the manure pile lady?
Mr. Codswallop: She is the Lady of Pyle Manor.
Mr. Flapdoodle: That's what I said. The manure pile lady.
Mr. Codswallop: Please attempt to refrain from embarrassing me too much during their visit.
Mr. Flapdoodle: All I did the last time they were here, was show the lady my cattle sheds. You said she was supposed to like manure.
Mr. Codswallop: You never did understand her noble birth.
Mr. Flapdoodle: For some reason, she seemed awfully concerned with mine. She said I had a lack of birth. I never figured that one out. As far as I know, I was born.
Mr. Codswallop: She was referring to your station in life.
Mr. Flapdoodle: But I tried to tell her, I never worked at the station. She had me mixed up with Cousin Ezra. He worked there for awhile.
Mr. Codswallop: Well, they will arrive tomorrow. I expect you to be on your best behaviour. Whatever you do, avoid any visits to the reprobate, Mr. McGillicutty.
Mr. Flapdoodle: They want to go fishing? You buy your bait there too? He has some great bait. The fish really bite on it.
Mr. Codswallop: You may have a point. Surprisingly, Uncle Cyrus is an avid fly fisherman.
Mr. Flapdoodle: He can fish for anything with Mr. McGillicutty's secret bait.
Mr. Codswallop: Perhaps an afternoon of fishing will help to keep Uncle Cyrus occupied, and away from finding fault.
Mr. Flapdoodle: What about the manure lady? Do you think she might want to see my hogs?
Mr. Codswallop: I sincerely doubt it.
Comments
Mr. Codswallop: Please be a good sport and order me a double of the finest Scotch.
Mr. Flapdoodle: You look like you need to celebrate a bit.
Mr. Codswallop: Alas, we are not looking at a festive event. Instead, we have a visit from Uncle Cyrus.
Mr. Flapdoodle: That's always good for a laugh.
Mr. Codswallop: How can you not be concerned at this momentous occurrance? Uncle Cyrus is critical of everyone and everything.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Then there's nothing to worry about, is there?
Mr. Codswallop: I knew that you would never understand. Uncle Cyrus always considered you to be a bad influence.
Mr. Flapdoodle: That's because whenever I meet the guy, I prefer to be under the influence.
Mr. Codswallop: He is plotting something, I just know it. He is always attempting to stage manage everyone's life.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I never worry about him. He just needs to lighten up a bit.
Mr. Codswallop: Apparently, he is also escorting his lady friend.
Mr. Flapdoodle: You mean the manure pile lady?
Mr. Codswallop: She is the Lady of Pyle Manor.
Mr. Flapdoodle: That's what I said. The manure pile lady.
Mr. Codswallop: Please attempt to refrain from embarrassing me too much during their visit.
Mr. Flapdoodle: All I did the last time they were here, was show the lady my cattle sheds. You said she was supposed to like manure.
Mr. Codswallop: You never did understand her noble birth.
Mr. Flapdoodle: For some reason, she seemed awfully concerned with mine. She said I had a lack of birth. I never figured that one out. As far as I know, I was born.
Mr. Codswallop: She was referring to your station in life.
Mr. Flapdoodle: But I tried to tell her, I never worked at the station. She had me mixed up with Cousin Ezra. He worked there for awhile.
Mr. Codswallop: Well, they will arrive tomorrow. I expect you to be on your best behaviour. Whatever you do, avoid any visits to the reprobate, Mr. McGillicutty.
Mr. Flapdoodle: They want to go fishing? You buy your bait there too? He has some great bait. The fish really bite on it.
Mr. Codswallop: You may have a point. Surprisingly, Uncle Cyrus is an avid fly fisherman.
Mr. Flapdoodle: He can fish for anything with Mr. McGillicutty's secret bait.
Mr. Codswallop: Perhaps an afternoon of fishing will help to keep Uncle Cyrus occupied, and away from finding fault.
Mr. Flapdoodle: What about the manure lady? Do you think she might want to see my hogs?
Mr. Codswallop: I sincerely doubt it.
Comments
Saturday, January 17, 2004
Looking Back...Waaaaay back...to the 1980s
Mr. Codswallop and Mr. Flapdoodle entered the Owl & Serpent Saloon, looking and feeling strangely out of place.
Mr. Flapdoodle: This place looked like it did twenty years ago. What happened?
Mr. Codswallop: It appears that the landlord has redecorated, into a hideous pastel regurgitation, of some dreadful Florida based television program.
Mr. Flapdoodle: You watched Miami Vice too?
Mr. Codswallop: I should certainly say not. I would rather be flayed alive, by some conquering heathen horde, than wear some vulgar unstructured white suit.
Mr. Flapdoodle: The mesh shoes with no socks were a cool idea.
Mr. Codswallop: Speak for yourself. You actually despoiled your person, with some dreadful creation, referred to as designer jeans.
Mr. Flapdoodle: And rugby pants too. They were great!
Mr. Codswallop: Do not befoul the air, any more than it already is, with mention of trousers held up by a draw string.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I had a red speckled hankie tied around my leg and my arm too.
Mr. Codswallop: Was that during your misguided period, of listening to that infernal racket, you insisted upon calling "hair bands"?
Mr. Flapdoodle: Hey, that was great stuff. I liked the music, and I was "Hot For Teacher".
Mr. Codswallop: That supposed music, if you wish to classify it in that manner, offered to the masses in the form of videos, was absolutely without any musical merit.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Yup, it was great. I liked to play my ghetto blaster loud.
Mr. Codswallop: I believe this 1980 time warp we have entered, is a result of a rift in the time space continuum.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Way!
Mr. Codswallop: I beg your pardon?
Mr. Flapdoodle: Excellent!
Mr. Codswallop: This rift opened by that Australian chap Darren Rowse, and his Blogger Idol is getting more serious by the second.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I wanna go find some Vals....you know...some like Valley Girls.
Mr. Codswallop: This bizarre blending of that newer, and extremely tiresome fad of Idol supposed talent programs, with the equally tacky 1980s, has opened a wormhole back to that long gone, and certainly not lamented period in our history.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Shout! Shout! Let it all out! These are things that we dream about!
Mr. Codswallop: What to do? What to do?
Mr. Flapdoodle: And I ran. I ran so far away!
Mr. Clodswallop: There has to be some connection between Idol of today, and an Idol of the past.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Hey little sister what have you done. Hey little sister. Shotgun! It's a nice day for a White Wedding!
Mr. Codswallop: What sort of a horrendously written matrimonial piece is that you are screaming.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Billy Idol! He was excellent.
Mr. Codswallop: Billy Idol! Of course! That's the link! The Idol connection has to be through him!
Mr. Flapdoodle: And with a rebel yell, she cried, more! More! More!
Mr. Codswallop (shouting): All hail Billy Idol!
Suddenly the skies opened, and in a flash of neon pink coloured light, the two men returned to the present day.
Mr. Codswallop: That was certainly a close brush with a fate, worse than could be imagined, by even the most hack of writers.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Way!
Comments
Mr. Flapdoodle: This place looked like it did twenty years ago. What happened?
Mr. Codswallop: It appears that the landlord has redecorated, into a hideous pastel regurgitation, of some dreadful Florida based television program.
Mr. Flapdoodle: You watched Miami Vice too?
Mr. Codswallop: I should certainly say not. I would rather be flayed alive, by some conquering heathen horde, than wear some vulgar unstructured white suit.
Mr. Flapdoodle: The mesh shoes with no socks were a cool idea.
Mr. Codswallop: Speak for yourself. You actually despoiled your person, with some dreadful creation, referred to as designer jeans.
Mr. Flapdoodle: And rugby pants too. They were great!
Mr. Codswallop: Do not befoul the air, any more than it already is, with mention of trousers held up by a draw string.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I had a red speckled hankie tied around my leg and my arm too.
Mr. Codswallop: Was that during your misguided period, of listening to that infernal racket, you insisted upon calling "hair bands"?
Mr. Flapdoodle: Hey, that was great stuff. I liked the music, and I was "Hot For Teacher".
Mr. Codswallop: That supposed music, if you wish to classify it in that manner, offered to the masses in the form of videos, was absolutely without any musical merit.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Yup, it was great. I liked to play my ghetto blaster loud.
Mr. Codswallop: I believe this 1980 time warp we have entered, is a result of a rift in the time space continuum.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Way!
Mr. Codswallop: I beg your pardon?
Mr. Flapdoodle: Excellent!
Mr. Codswallop: This rift opened by that Australian chap Darren Rowse, and his Blogger Idol is getting more serious by the second.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I wanna go find some Vals....you know...some like Valley Girls.
Mr. Codswallop: This bizarre blending of that newer, and extremely tiresome fad of Idol supposed talent programs, with the equally tacky 1980s, has opened a wormhole back to that long gone, and certainly not lamented period in our history.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Shout! Shout! Let it all out! These are things that we dream about!
Mr. Codswallop: What to do? What to do?
Mr. Flapdoodle: And I ran. I ran so far away!
Mr. Clodswallop: There has to be some connection between Idol of today, and an Idol of the past.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Hey little sister what have you done. Hey little sister. Shotgun! It's a nice day for a White Wedding!
Mr. Codswallop: What sort of a horrendously written matrimonial piece is that you are screaming.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Billy Idol! He was excellent.
Mr. Codswallop: Billy Idol! Of course! That's the link! The Idol connection has to be through him!
Mr. Flapdoodle: And with a rebel yell, she cried, more! More! More!
Mr. Codswallop (shouting): All hail Billy Idol!
Suddenly the skies opened, and in a flash of neon pink coloured light, the two men returned to the present day.
Mr. Codswallop: That was certainly a close brush with a fate, worse than could be imagined, by even the most hack of writers.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Way!
Comments
Friday, January 16, 2004
Faces, Cats, Tides, and...Elvis?
Wayne was at his favourite table, quietly reading the poetry of William Blake. He looked up as two strangers requested a seat in the crowded barroom.
Wayne: Certainly, those chairs are not taken.
Mr. Codswallop: That is capital of you. My name is Mr. Codswallop and this is my travelling companion Mr. Flapdoodle. What text are you reading?
Wayne: Pleased to neet you both. Poetry. Blake. Tiger, tiger, burning bright
Mr. Flapdoodle: A fire at the zoo? Where?
Wayne: No, that is the poem.
Mr. Flapdoodle: It would need a big litterbox.
Mr. Codswallop: Like the catbox on Mars.
Mr. Flapdoodle: A cat named Mars can box?
Mr. Codswallop: No Michael Malin's Mars Global Surveyor photo of the Face on Mars.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Oh yeah, that Elvis face on the Mars bar. Saw that in the Enquirer.
Mr. Codswallop: No, I mean the carved face seen on Mars. Haven't you seen Hoagland's work?
Mr. Flapdoodle: I heard the President talking about a Homeland but I stayed away from it. Didn't want to fall in.
Mr. Codswallop: No, the theory that Richard Hoagland proposes, of an ancient civilization on Mars.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I won't eat any more Mars bars if someone did something like that on them.
Mr. Codswallop: Hoagland believed that humans may have come from Mars originally.
Mr. Flapdoodle. My folks came from Milwaukee.
Mr. Codswallop: Have you not been to Hoagland's site? And read the Tidal Model, his conspiracies, his hyperdimensional physics, and who killed SOHO?
Mr. Flapdoodle: I want to meet that model, Tidal. I hear she is one hot looking lady. And someone killed Sulu? I was at a Star Trek convention and I was in a line. I almost got to meet him. He is my friend.
Mr. Codswallop: The Tidal Model describes the way Mars got to be today, as a result of a cataclysm.
Mr. Flapdoodle: You sure care a lot about cats.
Mr. Codswallop: It is not about cats.
Mr. Flapdoodle: But you're talking about cats and kittens and how they were hyper.
Mr. Codswallop: That would be hyperdimensional physics.
Mr. Flapdoodle: My old granny gave me a physic when I was a kid. Man did I hit that outhouse fast.
Mr. Codswallop: Hoagland calculates that a spinning tetrahedron with its angles at 19.47 degrees, will create unlimited energy.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I spun on a ride at that fair one time and I sure threw up nineteen or more times too. My energy was gone for the whole day.
Mr. Codswallop: We are talking about the study of Physics here.
Mr. Flapdoodle: They made us take Physics in High School. I got a 19 on a test too. My daddy cut my allowance off for a month.
Mr. Codswallop: I don't think you are understanding the subject.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I sure didn't know much science stuff, but I sure would like to see those pictures of that model, Tidal.
The two finished their drinks, and left. Wayne read more poetry. Blake made more sense than those two, he thought.
Comments
Wayne: Certainly, those chairs are not taken.
Mr. Codswallop: That is capital of you. My name is Mr. Codswallop and this is my travelling companion Mr. Flapdoodle. What text are you reading?
Wayne: Pleased to neet you both. Poetry. Blake. Tiger, tiger, burning bright
Mr. Flapdoodle: A fire at the zoo? Where?
Wayne: No, that is the poem.
Mr. Flapdoodle: It would need a big litterbox.
Mr. Codswallop: Like the catbox on Mars.
Mr. Flapdoodle: A cat named Mars can box?
Mr. Codswallop: No Michael Malin's Mars Global Surveyor photo of the Face on Mars.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Oh yeah, that Elvis face on the Mars bar. Saw that in the Enquirer.
Mr. Codswallop: No, I mean the carved face seen on Mars. Haven't you seen Hoagland's work?
Mr. Flapdoodle: I heard the President talking about a Homeland but I stayed away from it. Didn't want to fall in.
Mr. Codswallop: No, the theory that Richard Hoagland proposes, of an ancient civilization on Mars.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I won't eat any more Mars bars if someone did something like that on them.
Mr. Codswallop: Hoagland believed that humans may have come from Mars originally.
Mr. Flapdoodle. My folks came from Milwaukee.
Mr. Codswallop: Have you not been to Hoagland's site? And read the Tidal Model, his conspiracies, his hyperdimensional physics, and who killed SOHO?
Mr. Flapdoodle: I want to meet that model, Tidal. I hear she is one hot looking lady. And someone killed Sulu? I was at a Star Trek convention and I was in a line. I almost got to meet him. He is my friend.
Mr. Codswallop: The Tidal Model describes the way Mars got to be today, as a result of a cataclysm.
Mr. Flapdoodle: You sure care a lot about cats.
Mr. Codswallop: It is not about cats.
Mr. Flapdoodle: But you're talking about cats and kittens and how they were hyper.
Mr. Codswallop: That would be hyperdimensional physics.
Mr. Flapdoodle: My old granny gave me a physic when I was a kid. Man did I hit that outhouse fast.
Mr. Codswallop: Hoagland calculates that a spinning tetrahedron with its angles at 19.47 degrees, will create unlimited energy.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I spun on a ride at that fair one time and I sure threw up nineteen or more times too. My energy was gone for the whole day.
Mr. Codswallop: We are talking about the study of Physics here.
Mr. Flapdoodle: They made us take Physics in High School. I got a 19 on a test too. My daddy cut my allowance off for a month.
Mr. Codswallop: I don't think you are understanding the subject.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I sure didn't know much science stuff, but I sure would like to see those pictures of that model, Tidal.
The two finished their drinks, and left. Wayne read more poetry. Blake made more sense than those two, he thought.
Comments
Thursday, January 15, 2004
Crop Circles Roll Round and Round
As 1960s psychedelic music drifted through the air in the smoky saloon, Mr. Codswallop and Mr. Flapdoodle were well into their evening quotas of Glenlivet and Jack.
Mr. Codswallop: Were you aware that Uncle Cedric has been investigating crop circles?
Mr. Flapdoodle: Cousin Ezra's card playing circle was investigated once.
Mr. Codswallop: There is an entire phenomenon occurring out there that is beyond human comprehension.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Cousin Ezra was not beyond appehension.
Mr. Codswallop: The circles could be from aliens from another world, beings from another dimension, or angelic scriptures.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Over at The House of Sin, they have some angelic strippers too.
Mr. Codswallop: There are some people who believe the government may be utilizing advanced microwave technologies on satellites to create the intricate designs.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I owned a microwave oven once. It exploded in the kitchen.
Mr. Codswallop: I tend to disbelieve the debunkers who claim that hoaxers are responsible for the circles.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Cousin Isaac and Cousin Zebediah made a circle once in Mr. McGillicutty's crop. They tied boards to their feet and stomped around the barley. It seems he sold them some bad home brew.
Mr. Codswallop: Was the result an intricate pattern?
Mr. Flapdoodle: Not very pretty when they were done; but the look on old man McGillicutty's face was worth the effort.
Mr. Codswallop: Of course, hoaxers could not be responsible for the vast majority of circles. As you may be aware, the plant physiology is measureably changed when a circle is created.
Mr. Flapdoodle: They changed the barley alright. Flat as a pancake. Old man McGillicutty called the cops on them. He made sure they took responsibility.
Mr. Codswallop: I believe the crop circles are there to deliver a message to humanity.
Mr. Flapdoodle: The guys sure sent a message to old man McGillicutty.
Mr. Codswallop: It is utterly beyond the comprehension of we humans, as to the immense possibility of life, in the heavenly bodies we see above us.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I see a heavenly body over at the bar. I'm going to check out her possibilities. Comments
Mr. Codswallop: Were you aware that Uncle Cedric has been investigating crop circles?
Mr. Flapdoodle: Cousin Ezra's card playing circle was investigated once.
Mr. Codswallop: There is an entire phenomenon occurring out there that is beyond human comprehension.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Cousin Ezra was not beyond appehension.
Mr. Codswallop: The circles could be from aliens from another world, beings from another dimension, or angelic scriptures.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Over at The House of Sin, they have some angelic strippers too.
Mr. Codswallop: There are some people who believe the government may be utilizing advanced microwave technologies on satellites to create the intricate designs.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I owned a microwave oven once. It exploded in the kitchen.
Mr. Codswallop: I tend to disbelieve the debunkers who claim that hoaxers are responsible for the circles.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Cousin Isaac and Cousin Zebediah made a circle once in Mr. McGillicutty's crop. They tied boards to their feet and stomped around the barley. It seems he sold them some bad home brew.
Mr. Codswallop: Was the result an intricate pattern?
Mr. Flapdoodle: Not very pretty when they were done; but the look on old man McGillicutty's face was worth the effort.
Mr. Codswallop: Of course, hoaxers could not be responsible for the vast majority of circles. As you may be aware, the plant physiology is measureably changed when a circle is created.
Mr. Flapdoodle: They changed the barley alright. Flat as a pancake. Old man McGillicutty called the cops on them. He made sure they took responsibility.
Mr. Codswallop: I believe the crop circles are there to deliver a message to humanity.
Mr. Flapdoodle: The guys sure sent a message to old man McGillicutty.
Mr. Codswallop: It is utterly beyond the comprehension of we humans, as to the immense possibility of life, in the heavenly bodies we see above us.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I see a heavenly body over at the bar. I'm going to check out her possibilities. Comments
Wednesday, January 14, 2004
Ice Fishing on Mars
Entering the licenced establishment, Mr. Codswallop wore a smug and self satisfied expression on his face. He bore the demeanour of a man vindicated in his beliefs at last.
Mr. Flapdoodle, less concerned about being right, simply ordered a bottle of Jack Daniels and a bottle of The Glenlivet. As he weaved his way to the table where Mr. Codswallop was now seated, Mr. Flapdoodle gave each of the ladies a turn on the dance floor and stole a quick kiss.
Mr. Codswallop: It is barely possible to remain calm, following the exciting announcement of unlimited underground ice on Mars.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Sounds like a great place for a bar with all of that ice. Everything on the rocks!
Mr. Codswallop: Because of the expansive amount of water ice, life is a certainty there.
Mr. Flapdoodle: With that much ice, any place would be lively.
Mr. Codswallop: There may even be extant surface water.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I hope the fishing's good.
Mr. Codswallop: Do you realize, of course, that the very idea of fish would cause an unimaginable paradigm shift in the scientific community.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Cousin Ezra often used a pair of dimes as lures. Just put a hook in between, and he'd catch over his limit. Game warden was always out at his place counting fish.
Mr. Codswallop: There is now an even more likely scenerio of sentient life, perhaps even still living there today.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Yep. I knew it. The good fishing spots are always taken.
Mr. Codswallop: The surface temperature on Mars may even be 20 degrees Celsius or perhaps more.
Mr. Flapdoodle: What's that in English?
Mr. Codswallop: I would estimate an adjustment to about 70 degrees Fahrenheit.
Mr. Flapdoodle: That sounds like great fishing weather. Sit back with a case of beer, cast out my line, and see those Mars bass and trout jump!
Mr. Codswallop: The skies on Mars may be a clear blue, as the red colour is possibly a deliberate distortion for the consumption of the masses.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Well, I am ready for some consumption of fish in the warm weather under a clear blue sky. You ever fry up some fish straight out of the water? You can't beat it!
Mr. Codswallop: With the water, perhaps at the surface, as well as frozen beneath the surface, the chances of a past or present civilization is greatly enhanced.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I try to get away from civilization when I fish, but if they have bars and ladies there, it may be a great place to take a fishing trip and do some bar hopping.
Mr. Codswallop: Well, the odds of a human space voyage to Mars, are tremendously improved, with the discovery of ice and water.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Let me pack some beer and my fishing rod. We want to get first dibs on a great fishing hole before the President gets the best spot. Maybe do a little ice fishing too!
Comments
Mr. Flapdoodle, less concerned about being right, simply ordered a bottle of Jack Daniels and a bottle of The Glenlivet. As he weaved his way to the table where Mr. Codswallop was now seated, Mr. Flapdoodle gave each of the ladies a turn on the dance floor and stole a quick kiss.
Mr. Codswallop: It is barely possible to remain calm, following the exciting announcement of unlimited underground ice on Mars.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Sounds like a great place for a bar with all of that ice. Everything on the rocks!
Mr. Codswallop: Because of the expansive amount of water ice, life is a certainty there.
Mr. Flapdoodle: With that much ice, any place would be lively.
Mr. Codswallop: There may even be extant surface water.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I hope the fishing's good.
Mr. Codswallop: Do you realize, of course, that the very idea of fish would cause an unimaginable paradigm shift in the scientific community.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Cousin Ezra often used a pair of dimes as lures. Just put a hook in between, and he'd catch over his limit. Game warden was always out at his place counting fish.
Mr. Codswallop: There is now an even more likely scenerio of sentient life, perhaps even still living there today.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Yep. I knew it. The good fishing spots are always taken.
Mr. Codswallop: The surface temperature on Mars may even be 20 degrees Celsius or perhaps more.
Mr. Flapdoodle: What's that in English?
Mr. Codswallop: I would estimate an adjustment to about 70 degrees Fahrenheit.
Mr. Flapdoodle: That sounds like great fishing weather. Sit back with a case of beer, cast out my line, and see those Mars bass and trout jump!
Mr. Codswallop: The skies on Mars may be a clear blue, as the red colour is possibly a deliberate distortion for the consumption of the masses.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Well, I am ready for some consumption of fish in the warm weather under a clear blue sky. You ever fry up some fish straight out of the water? You can't beat it!
Mr. Codswallop: With the water, perhaps at the surface, as well as frozen beneath the surface, the chances of a past or present civilization is greatly enhanced.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I try to get away from civilization when I fish, but if they have bars and ladies there, it may be a great place to take a fishing trip and do some bar hopping.
Mr. Codswallop: Well, the odds of a human space voyage to Mars, are tremendously improved, with the discovery of ice and water.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Let me pack some beer and my fishing rod. We want to get first dibs on a great fishing hole before the President gets the best spot. Maybe do a little ice fishing too!
Comments
Tuesday, January 13, 2004
Messy With Nessie
Entering the darkened barroom, Mr. Codswallop and Mr. Flapdoodle enquired about service. The watch snake, for whom the Owl & Serpent Saloon was named, eyed them closely as they accepted a single malt and a bourbon, from the half asleep barman.
Mr. Codswallop: I say, that is an interesting serpent.
Mr. Flapdoodle. Yup.
Mr.Codswallop: And what do you mean by that rather uncivilized term of......."yup"?
Mr. Flapdoodle: I meant yup.
Mr. Codswallop: Oh very well.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Yup.
Mr. Codswallop: It was so exhilerating to hear from Uncle Cedric. He had just completed the sweeps of Loch Ness.
Mr. Flapdoodle: It was dirty?
Mr. Codswallop: By means of an ultra top secret hush hush device for finding submarines, Uncle Cedric had proof of the existance of the Loch Ness Monster.
Mr. Flapdoodle: They were lost?
Mr. Codswallop: Do you realize that there have been confirmed sightings of the beast for over a millenium?
Mr. Flapdoodle: I see things after drinking a lot too.
Mr. Codswallop: The photographic records, taken by the secret device, clearly showed an ancient amphibious dinosaur, believed extinct for millions of years.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I'm sure it would stink after all those years.
Mr. Codswallop: There was no doubt about it at all. Nessie, as the locals call her, was found by Uncle Cedric.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Cedric found a local call girl there too?
Mr. Codswallop: The underwater photographs were unmistakable in the outlines of the body.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I'd outline that local girl's body too.
Mr. Codswallop: Unfortunately, in his telephone call tonight, Uncle Cedric informed me that disaster had struck the exploration party.
Mr. Flapdoodle: The party got raided?
Mr. Codswallop: The secret device, and its highly advanced film exposures, were accidently dropped in the Loch.
Mr. Flapdoodle: If I dropped my stuff, I'd get locked up for indecent exposure.
Mr. Codswallop: Poor Uncle Cedric. He had the documented proof of the creature, and now that proof has vanished.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I can make that over proof stuff vanish quick too, after hiding McGillicutty's still from revenuers.
Mr. Codswallop: It seems that Uncle Cedric is laid up in a convalescence home in Scotland.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Good for Cedric. He got laid.
Mr. Codswallop: I am worried about poor Uncle Cedric. This can not be good for his physical or psychological well being.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I'm not worried. He can get a shot if he catches anything.
Comments
Mr. Codswallop: I say, that is an interesting serpent.
Mr. Flapdoodle. Yup.
Mr.Codswallop: And what do you mean by that rather uncivilized term of......."yup"?
Mr. Flapdoodle: I meant yup.
Mr. Codswallop: Oh very well.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Yup.
Mr. Codswallop: It was so exhilerating to hear from Uncle Cedric. He had just completed the sweeps of Loch Ness.
Mr. Flapdoodle: It was dirty?
Mr. Codswallop: By means of an ultra top secret hush hush device for finding submarines, Uncle Cedric had proof of the existance of the Loch Ness Monster.
Mr. Flapdoodle: They were lost?
Mr. Codswallop: Do you realize that there have been confirmed sightings of the beast for over a millenium?
Mr. Flapdoodle: I see things after drinking a lot too.
Mr. Codswallop: The photographic records, taken by the secret device, clearly showed an ancient amphibious dinosaur, believed extinct for millions of years.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I'm sure it would stink after all those years.
Mr. Codswallop: There was no doubt about it at all. Nessie, as the locals call her, was found by Uncle Cedric.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Cedric found a local call girl there too?
Mr. Codswallop: The underwater photographs were unmistakable in the outlines of the body.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I'd outline that local girl's body too.
Mr. Codswallop: Unfortunately, in his telephone call tonight, Uncle Cedric informed me that disaster had struck the exploration party.
Mr. Flapdoodle: The party got raided?
Mr. Codswallop: The secret device, and its highly advanced film exposures, were accidently dropped in the Loch.
Mr. Flapdoodle: If I dropped my stuff, I'd get locked up for indecent exposure.
Mr. Codswallop: Poor Uncle Cedric. He had the documented proof of the creature, and now that proof has vanished.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I can make that over proof stuff vanish quick too, after hiding McGillicutty's still from revenuers.
Mr. Codswallop: It seems that Uncle Cedric is laid up in a convalescence home in Scotland.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Good for Cedric. He got laid.
Mr. Codswallop: I am worried about poor Uncle Cedric. This can not be good for his physical or psychological well being.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I'm not worried. He can get a shot if he catches anything.
Comments
Monday, January 12, 2004
The Plural of Bigfoot is Bigfeet
Two men entered the Saloon, only to be greeted by a throng of well wishers. One of the men, Mr. Codswallop, was taken aback by the attention. He never felt comfortable mingling in crowds, and strongly disapproved of the musical offerings in the establishment. The other man, Mr. Flapdoodle, already had a stiff drink in his hand, a lady on each arm, and a big grin on his face.
Mr. Codswallop: Must you make a spectacle of yourself, Flapdoodle?
Mr. Flapdoodle: I don't need spectacles to see these lovely ladies. Wait, there are two more! Hi ladies! Drinks are on me!
Mr. Codswallop: How can you be so frivolous at a time like this?
Mr. Flapdoodle: It's ladies night at the Saloon.
Mr. Codswallop: I realize that this establishment holds promotional events of that nature, but we must discuss the business at hand.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I like my hands held by the ladies.
Mr. Codswallop: You know very well that my Uncle Cedric Codswallop was out on an expedition, to unravel the secrets, of the mysterious Sasquatch.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I'd like to unravel the secrets of these ladies.
Mr. Codswallop: You are familiar with the Sasquatch, better known to the uneducated masses as Bigfoot.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I don't know the guy you're talking about, but old man McGillicutty's son Cecil, now he has the biggest feet I ever saw.
Mr. Codswallop: Uncle Cedric has documented evidence of the existence of the elusive creature.
Mr. Flapdoodle: That's what the Sheriff said about Cousin Ezra's underage girlfriend.
Mr. Codswallop: The Sasquatch was observed by Uncle Cedric in its natural habitat.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Well, I'm sure they have to relieve themselves somewhere.
Mr. Codswallop: Uncle Cedric had recordings of the howlings of the great beast, as well as photographic images of the creature.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Yep, that's how they caught Cousin Ezra.
Mr. Codswallop: However, the evidence has gone missing and Uncle Cedric suspects that foul play may be involved.
Mr. Flapdoodle: You mean it plays baseball too?
Mr. Codswallop: Uncle Cedric suspects that the hidebound scientific establishment resents a gifted amateur, like himself, gaining the recognition for the discovery.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I knew a girl who made amateur films once. They were a real discovery for sure.
Mr. Codswallop: Poor Uncle Cedric is completely traumatized by this turn of events.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I'll bet that hurt.
Mr. Codswallop: Uncle Cedric has reported the findings to the scientific community, but he was rebuffed by their narrowmindedness.
Mr. Flapdoodle. Old Cedric is into kinky stuff?
Mr. Codswallop: Now poor Uncle Cedric has taken to his bed and is not at all in good spirits.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Just give me some spirits, one of these beautiful ladies, and I'll be off to bed too.
Comments
Mr. Codswallop: Must you make a spectacle of yourself, Flapdoodle?
Mr. Flapdoodle: I don't need spectacles to see these lovely ladies. Wait, there are two more! Hi ladies! Drinks are on me!
Mr. Codswallop: How can you be so frivolous at a time like this?
Mr. Flapdoodle: It's ladies night at the Saloon.
Mr. Codswallop: I realize that this establishment holds promotional events of that nature, but we must discuss the business at hand.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I like my hands held by the ladies.
Mr. Codswallop: You know very well that my Uncle Cedric Codswallop was out on an expedition, to unravel the secrets, of the mysterious Sasquatch.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I'd like to unravel the secrets of these ladies.
Mr. Codswallop: You are familiar with the Sasquatch, better known to the uneducated masses as Bigfoot.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I don't know the guy you're talking about, but old man McGillicutty's son Cecil, now he has the biggest feet I ever saw.
Mr. Codswallop: Uncle Cedric has documented evidence of the existence of the elusive creature.
Mr. Flapdoodle: That's what the Sheriff said about Cousin Ezra's underage girlfriend.
Mr. Codswallop: The Sasquatch was observed by Uncle Cedric in its natural habitat.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Well, I'm sure they have to relieve themselves somewhere.
Mr. Codswallop: Uncle Cedric had recordings of the howlings of the great beast, as well as photographic images of the creature.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Yep, that's how they caught Cousin Ezra.
Mr. Codswallop: However, the evidence has gone missing and Uncle Cedric suspects that foul play may be involved.
Mr. Flapdoodle: You mean it plays baseball too?
Mr. Codswallop: Uncle Cedric suspects that the hidebound scientific establishment resents a gifted amateur, like himself, gaining the recognition for the discovery.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I knew a girl who made amateur films once. They were a real discovery for sure.
Mr. Codswallop: Poor Uncle Cedric is completely traumatized by this turn of events.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I'll bet that hurt.
Mr. Codswallop: Uncle Cedric has reported the findings to the scientific community, but he was rebuffed by their narrowmindedness.
Mr. Flapdoodle. Old Cedric is into kinky stuff?
Mr. Codswallop: Now poor Uncle Cedric has taken to his bed and is not at all in good spirits.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Just give me some spirits, one of these beautiful ladies, and I'll be off to bed too.
Comments
Sunday, January 11, 2004
Disclosure Projections
On their way back from their evening's adventure, two men stop at the bar for a nightcap.
Mr. Codswallop: Wasn't that Disclosure Project exciting?
Mr. Flapdoodle: There was no disclothin' and I was expecting nudists. Not many hot looking ladies either.
Mr. Codswallop: Dr. Greer had all of those witnesses testify that the government has been covering up UFOs and alien technology for decades.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I had tooth decay and I couldn't cover that ache up.
Mr. Codswallop: The technology could provide Zero Point Energy for everyone.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I want that free gas. I paid almost $2.00 a gallon at Leroy's Eat 'n' Gas.
Mr. Codswallop: If the coverup is true, there will be no more need for gas.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Then how will I drive my pickup truck?
Mr. Codswallop: I am referring to elimination of the energy cartels and monopolies.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I like playing cards and Monopoly.
Mr. Codswallop: Don't you know there are aliens among us and working within the governments?
Mr. Flapdoodle: I voted against the guy who had the illegal alien gardener.
Mr. Codswallop: I mean alien life forms from other planets.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I sprayed my plants for those bugs. Nasty things. Almost ate my whole cabbage patch.
Mr. Codswallop: I mean those grey aliens. I showed you their photographs.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Those skinny guys with the big eyes and light bulb shaped heads?
Mr. Codswallop: They are only one species. I understand there are fifty-seven types.
Mr. Flapdoodle: You mean Heinz are aliens? I like their ketchup. Even put it on my Lucky Charms.
Mr. Codswallop: Wouldn't you agree with Dr. Greer that the people should be informed about the extraterrestrial beings?
Mr. Flapdoodle: Well if one of those scrawny grey fellas came near me, I'll load him full of buckshot. Their skinny carcasses aren't immune to my shotgun.
Mr. Codswallop: Dr. Greer believes the aliens are friendly and our space based weapons are shooting them down.
Mr. Flapdoodle: The ex-wife said I have wasted space weapons. I'm a member of the NRA.
Mr. Codswallop: You enjoyed that field trip we took with Dr. Greer, didn't you?
Mr. Flapdoodle: I sure did. We went out into that big field and waved our flashlights in the air.
Mr. Codswallop: It was so beautiful as we all concentrated our thoughts on attracting a ship to our coordinates.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I was sure thinking hard about that hot looking lady beside me. She said her name was Moonbeam.
Mr. Codswallop: Perhaps you should have concentrated your energy on the task at hand.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I was saving my energy for Moonbeam. Her friend Ambrosia was hot too. I could have fixed you up.
Mr. Codswallop: So overall, what did you think of Dr. Greer's presentation?
Mr. Flapdoodle: My daddy told me a doctor is good for broken bones and the clap. The rest of the time stay away.
Mr. Codswallop: So what does that mean? I was impressed with the doctor and his witnesses.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Dr. Greer sounded like the guy who always showed up at my old granny's place. Talked fancy, took her money, gave her an evil mixture to take. I know. She gave me some. I threw up for hours.
Mr. Codswallop: So I take it you were not impressed.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Well no one got naked and I lost Moonbeam's number. The flashlights were fun. I sure could use that free gas. My pickup needs a fill. Comments
Mason Jar Rings Mr. Codswallop: Wasn't that Disclosure Project exciting?
Mr. Flapdoodle: There was no disclothin' and I was expecting nudists. Not many hot looking ladies either.
Mr. Codswallop: Dr. Greer had all of those witnesses testify that the government has been covering up UFOs and alien technology for decades.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I had tooth decay and I couldn't cover that ache up.
Mr. Codswallop: The technology could provide Zero Point Energy for everyone.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I want that free gas. I paid almost $2.00 a gallon at Leroy's Eat 'n' Gas.
Mr. Codswallop: If the coverup is true, there will be no more need for gas.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Then how will I drive my pickup truck?
Mr. Codswallop: I am referring to elimination of the energy cartels and monopolies.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I like playing cards and Monopoly.
Mr. Codswallop: Don't you know there are aliens among us and working within the governments?
Mr. Flapdoodle: I voted against the guy who had the illegal alien gardener.
Mr. Codswallop: I mean alien life forms from other planets.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I sprayed my plants for those bugs. Nasty things. Almost ate my whole cabbage patch.
Mr. Codswallop: I mean those grey aliens. I showed you their photographs.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Those skinny guys with the big eyes and light bulb shaped heads?
Mr. Codswallop: They are only one species. I understand there are fifty-seven types.
Mr. Flapdoodle: You mean Heinz are aliens? I like their ketchup. Even put it on my Lucky Charms.
Mr. Codswallop: Wouldn't you agree with Dr. Greer that the people should be informed about the extraterrestrial beings?
Mr. Flapdoodle: Well if one of those scrawny grey fellas came near me, I'll load him full of buckshot. Their skinny carcasses aren't immune to my shotgun.
Mr. Codswallop: Dr. Greer believes the aliens are friendly and our space based weapons are shooting them down.
Mr. Flapdoodle: The ex-wife said I have wasted space weapons. I'm a member of the NRA.
Mr. Codswallop: You enjoyed that field trip we took with Dr. Greer, didn't you?
Mr. Flapdoodle: I sure did. We went out into that big field and waved our flashlights in the air.
Mr. Codswallop: It was so beautiful as we all concentrated our thoughts on attracting a ship to our coordinates.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I was sure thinking hard about that hot looking lady beside me. She said her name was Moonbeam.
Mr. Codswallop: Perhaps you should have concentrated your energy on the task at hand.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I was saving my energy for Moonbeam. Her friend Ambrosia was hot too. I could have fixed you up.
Mr. Codswallop: So overall, what did you think of Dr. Greer's presentation?
Mr. Flapdoodle: My daddy told me a doctor is good for broken bones and the clap. The rest of the time stay away.
Mr. Codswallop: So what does that mean? I was impressed with the doctor and his witnesses.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Dr. Greer sounded like the guy who always showed up at my old granny's place. Talked fancy, took her money, gave her an evil mixture to take. I know. She gave me some. I threw up for hours.
Mr. Codswallop: So I take it you were not impressed.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Well no one got naked and I lost Moonbeam's number. The flashlights were fun. I sure could use that free gas. My pickup needs a fill. Comments
Strolling into the crowded barroom, Mr. Codswallop and Mr. Flapdoodle, waved to the crowd. The various patrons shouted their welcomes to the two men.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Drinks for everyone! My friend is buyin'!
Mr. Codswallop: What are you doing? Have you lost your mind? That is my money you are spending!
Mr. Flapdoodle: They all looked thirsty.
Mr. Codswallop: I have observed that they always appear to have a desire for more libation.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Libation got my cousin Hiram five years in the slammer.
Mr. Codswallop: Did you see that article about the New World Order?
Mr. Flapdoodle: I love the rasslin'. Hulk Hogan rules!
Mr. Codswallop: I mean the Illuminati and their cohorts and their quest for world dominance, a single world government, and an all electronic currency.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I felt an electric currency through my old toaster. Had to get a new one.
Mr. Codswallop: Are you not concerned about the microchip Big Brother may put in you?
Mr. Flapdoodle: My big brother Elijah eats all of the potato chips. None get into me. He never buys either.
Mr. Codswallop: But I am certain you are concerned about the evil intentions of the Illuminati.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I like the ladies naughty.
Mr. Codswallop: David Icke believes that a reptilian race is in control of the world's power and that many of the world leaders are reptilian.
Mr. Flapdoodle: All politicians are snakes. Even I know that.
Mr Codswallop: I don't mean in the figurative sense, but reptilian in the literal sense.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I figured my taxes and they never made sense.
Mr. Codswallop: You are not concerned about their takeover of the world and your complete subugation?
Mr. Flapdoodle: I gave up subjects when I quit school.
Mr. Codswallop: There is strong evidence that the Masons are behind this sinister plot as well.
Mr. Flapdoodle: You know the Mason sisters too? They are hot to party!
Mr. Codswallop: I mean the Masonic Lodge. Your Uncle Hector was a member, was he not?
Mr. Flapdoodle: That club Uncle Hector was in? They had some wild times. Uncle Hector was always drunk when those guys got together. Aunt Matilda would chase him out of the house with the broom.
Mr. Codswallop: That is the lower Degrees of the Temple. In the higher Degrees, they might be plotting something.
Mr. Flapdoodle: They held their meetings at forty degrees below. Didn't matter to Uncle Hector. That man could drink a lot, anytime.
Mr. Codswallop: I mean those individuals higher up in the Masonic Lodge.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Uncle Hiram got high up on the roof of the Lodge once. Drunk as a sailor. Aunt Matilda hit him good with the rolling pin that time.
Mr. Codswallop: The American One Dollar Bill is covered with Masonic imagery and symbolism.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Uncle Hector had an emergency somethingism at the hospital. He complained he couldn't get drunk with the Masons.
Mr. Codswallop: Because of your uncle, you are familiar with the inner workings of the Masons?
Mr. Flapdoodle: I'd like to get the inner clothes off the Mason sisters.
Mr. Codswallop: So you are not concerned about Illuminati designs on the monetary system?
Mr. Flapdoodle: They can design the money any way they want. I never get paid enough anyway.
Mr. Codswallop: The one world currency will eventually destroy the value of the dollar.
Mr. Flapdoodle: And now you know why I had you buy the drinks.
Comments
Mr. Flapdoodle: Drinks for everyone! My friend is buyin'!
Mr. Codswallop: What are you doing? Have you lost your mind? That is my money you are spending!
Mr. Flapdoodle: They all looked thirsty.
Mr. Codswallop: I have observed that they always appear to have a desire for more libation.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Libation got my cousin Hiram five years in the slammer.
Mr. Codswallop: Did you see that article about the New World Order?
Mr. Flapdoodle: I love the rasslin'. Hulk Hogan rules!
Mr. Codswallop: I mean the Illuminati and their cohorts and their quest for world dominance, a single world government, and an all electronic currency.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I felt an electric currency through my old toaster. Had to get a new one.
Mr. Codswallop: Are you not concerned about the microchip Big Brother may put in you?
Mr. Flapdoodle: My big brother Elijah eats all of the potato chips. None get into me. He never buys either.
Mr. Codswallop: But I am certain you are concerned about the evil intentions of the Illuminati.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I like the ladies naughty.
Mr. Codswallop: David Icke believes that a reptilian race is in control of the world's power and that many of the world leaders are reptilian.
Mr. Flapdoodle: All politicians are snakes. Even I know that.
Mr Codswallop: I don't mean in the figurative sense, but reptilian in the literal sense.
Mr. Flapdoodle: I figured my taxes and they never made sense.
Mr. Codswallop: You are not concerned about their takeover of the world and your complete subugation?
Mr. Flapdoodle: I gave up subjects when I quit school.
Mr. Codswallop: There is strong evidence that the Masons are behind this sinister plot as well.
Mr. Flapdoodle: You know the Mason sisters too? They are hot to party!
Mr. Codswallop: I mean the Masonic Lodge. Your Uncle Hector was a member, was he not?
Mr. Flapdoodle: That club Uncle Hector was in? They had some wild times. Uncle Hector was always drunk when those guys got together. Aunt Matilda would chase him out of the house with the broom.
Mr. Codswallop: That is the lower Degrees of the Temple. In the higher Degrees, they might be plotting something.
Mr. Flapdoodle: They held their meetings at forty degrees below. Didn't matter to Uncle Hector. That man could drink a lot, anytime.
Mr. Codswallop: I mean those individuals higher up in the Masonic Lodge.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Uncle Hiram got high up on the roof of the Lodge once. Drunk as a sailor. Aunt Matilda hit him good with the rolling pin that time.
Mr. Codswallop: The American One Dollar Bill is covered with Masonic imagery and symbolism.
Mr. Flapdoodle: Uncle Hector had an emergency somethingism at the hospital. He complained he couldn't get drunk with the Masons.
Mr. Codswallop: Because of your uncle, you are familiar with the inner workings of the Masons?
Mr. Flapdoodle: I'd like to get the inner clothes off the Mason sisters.
Mr. Codswallop: So you are not concerned about Illuminati designs on the monetary system?
Mr. Flapdoodle: They can design the money any way they want. I never get paid enough anyway.
Mr. Codswallop: The one world currency will eventually destroy the value of the dollar.
Mr. Flapdoodle: And now you know why I had you buy the drinks.
Comments
