Month: March 2011

Piece by piece…


Becky’s Butt

LeSombre has just complained about having nothing to blog about, by Tweeting amusingly and unmercifully. A Tweeter pipes up and…

You may blog about my butt. Go.


You may. Go.
or, tell me why are you staring at my butt!

No I…

[Stepping up to LeSombre]
Does it astonish you?

Your grace misunderstands my

Is it round and soft And bouncy like a ball?

I never said __

Or crooked, like Adam’s balls?


A pimple ornaments the end of it?


Or a fly parading up and down? What is this portent?


This phenomenon?

But I have been careful not to look!

And why not? If you please?


It disgusts you, then?

My dear Beck–

Does its color appear to you unwholesome?

Oh! By no means!

Or its form. obscene?

Not in the least–

Then why assume This deprecating manner? Possibly
You find it just a trifle large?

LeSombre [babbling now]
Oh no! Small, very small, infinitesimal

Becky [Roars]
What? How? You accuse me of absurdity?
Small my butt? Why
My butt! You pug, you knob, you button-head,
Know that I glory in this butt of mine,
For a great butt indicate a great lad
Genial, courteous, intellectual,
Virile, courageous as I am and such
As you poor wretch will never dare to be
Even in imagination. For that ass
That blank, inglorious convexity
Which my right foot finds

[Becky kicks LeSombre’s butt]

Becky [continuing]
right behind you
Is as devoid of pride, of poetry,
Of soul, of picturesqueness, of contour,
Of character of BUTT in short as that
Which at the top of that limp spine of yours
My left hand

Help! Bloggers!!!

Take notice, all
Who find this feature of my countenance
A theme for comedy! When the humorist
Is noble, then my custom is to show
Appreciation proper to his rank
More heartfelt and more pointed

This lass grows tiresome Will no one put her in her place?

Observe! I myself will proceed To put her in her place
[Walking up to Becky]
Ah your butt.. ahem
Your butt is. Rather large!

Is that all?

LeSombre [turning away contemptuously]
Oh, well

Ah, no, dumb sir!
You are too simple. Why, you might have said
Oh, a great many things! Mon dieu, why waste
Your opportunity? For example, thus: —
AGGRESSIVE: I, lad, if that butt were mine,
I’d have it amputated on the spot!
FRIENDLY: How do you sit with such a butt?
You ought to have a chair made specially!
DESCRIPTIVE: Tis a rock a crag a cape
A cape? say rather, a peninsula!
INQUISITIVE: What is that receptacle
A drum case or a beachball?
KINDLY: Ah, do you love the little birds
So much that when they come and sing to you,
You give them this to shade under?
INSOLENT: Mam, when you fart, the neighbors must suppose
A ship signals fog.
CAUTIOUS: Take care
A weight like that might make you bottom-heavy.
THOUGHTFUL: Somebody fetch my parasol
Those delicate colors fade so in the sun!
PEDANTIC: Does not Aristophanes
Mention a mythologic monster called
Surely we have here the original!
FAMILIAR: Well, old torchlight! Raise your pants
Over that crack – it hurts my eyes.
ELOQUENT: When it blows, the typhoon howls,
And the clouds darken.
DRAMATIC: When it poops – The Tsunami!
ENTERPRISING: What a sign for some proctologist!
LYRIC: Hark the horn of Roland calls
To summon Charlemagne!
SIMPLE: When do they unveil the monument?
RESPECTFUL: Lady, I recognize in you
A woman of parts, a woman of prominence
RUSTIC: Eh? What? Call that a butt? Naw Naw
I be no fool like what you think I be
That there is two melons!
MILITARY: Defend the rear!
PRACTICAL: Why not a lottery?
With this for the grand prize?
Or parodying Faustus in the play
Was this the butt that broke the Internet
And made LeSombre parody Cyrano?
These, my dumb sir, are things you might have said
Had you some tinge of letters, or of wit
To color your discourse. But wit not so,
You never had an atom and of letters,
You need but three to write you down A S S
Moreover if you had the invention, here,
Before these folks, to make a jest of me
Be sure you would not then articulate
The twentieth part of half a syllable
Of the beginning! For I say these things
Lightly enough myself, about myself,
But, I allow none else to utter them.

[…and scene]

Ask and ye shall receive?

“I’m going to cook some bacon for breakfast. I’m hesitating between using the blowtorch and sticking the slices in the toaster to cook it. What do you think I should do?”

“How about just using a pan?” I reply.

“Well if you want to do it then…”

This is how my wife asks me to cook bacon. Come to think of it, this is pretty much how she asks me to do anything, really. She knows that if I get scared enough, I’ll step in and do it for her, so she doesn’t lose a finger or set the house on fire – again – or both.

“I’m going to take out the trash. Should I wear my roller blades to go down the stairs or should I use my bare foot to stomp on those shards of glass?”

“I’m going to change that electrical socket. Can you pass me that bucket of water and those tinfoil gloves?”

“I’m going to shovel the driveway. Let me put on my bathing suit first or should I wear this snorkel?”

“I’m cleaning the bathroom. Do we have any battery acid left?”

“I’m going to empty the dishwasher. I’ll just put on those boxing gloves and blindfold myself first. The red or green blindfold?”

“Time to clean the oven. Do you use regular matches or the extra long ones to ignite the lighter fluid?”

“I’ll update my iPad. Where’s the hammer and chisel?”

“Of course I can drive the kids to school. The break pedal is on the left, right?”

One bullet short of a full gun (32)

I’m doing something a little different this time. Picture bullets.

  • How mean would it be for me to scrape those dots from my window and set up a box of donuts on the table?

  • Remember when I talked about how LovelyWife stacks items in the fridge? If you thought I was kidding, look at the eggs now. Also notice the cream on its side to the left.

  • What is wrong with this picture? believe it or not, that’s the least of the bathroom problems we have here. Also, the only picture where you don’t see pee.

  • My son’s lunch.

  • Coming soon to a city near me! Hey, finally some good news!

In pure Call of Cthulhu tradition, I’ll keep the last bullet for myself for when the madness finally comes.