Sunday, November 28, 2010


So close to winter and so deep into autumn, I think of the word “Renée”:  a difficult word to spell at first, and a difficult word to pronounce if you have only read it. No ‘Michael Lookofsky’ of difficulty to pronounce, but difficult to pronounce, nevertheless.

This deep in autumn I want winter to go away. Already. That’s why I say Renée.

Just walk away, Renée, I say. A aching melody in the pop rock milieu. Michael Lookofsky: please tell me to walk away, said Renée.

Michael Lookofsky said Walk Away, Renée. Michael Lookofsky wrote Walk Away, Renée. His hands shook so badly in the studio that he could barely play. There she was, Renée, looking at him and smiling. The studio was dark and she was smiling and tall and blonde. And smiling and blonde.

Michael Lookofsky really didn’t want Renée to walk away. I know you love someone else, but what could he say? Please stay, Renée. Please stay. Must you go?

How I wish winter and autumn instead would go away!

Saturday, November 27, 2010

Shapely man running down Peace Street. Oh. I see. Shapely man with telephone body and grapefruit stomach at the corner of Peace and War Streets. Grapefruit might be magnifying glass with grapefruit embedded. Man with triangle nose and cute button eyeballs spinning around the corner of Peace & War not really grapefruit. Man with body of black telephone no grapefruit actually dial him: RING RING! War is over! Hoorah! 1945! Hooray! Dude on the move, more cute than handsome. Zip. Ring a Ding. That's how everyone feels about peace. Call now. The operators that answer will know you already. They are angels.

Friday, November 26, 2010


The birds were silent and the air was soft and the sky was dark and ominous when Albert first penetrated Victoria.

The next morning the clouds drifted away and the sun shown upon the heather in the Midlands. The ocean smelled of salt. It was February.

Victoria opened her diary and wrote Oh My.


The good news is the flash of the meteorite as it struck the earth provided enough light for a nearby mechanic to jump start a dying man’s heart with battery cables.

A nearby 300 lb woman, Darcy, mounted a tiny man, Oscar, lustily and vigorously, and he drowned.

That’s how you catch the man of your dreams, said Darcy.

Outside the gates, Father Arturo Maglio confessed that he met Satan face to face in Hell.

It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, the priest said, who was born in Italy.

While Jeannie Peeper’s face, Jeannie Peeper of Casselberry, Florida, turns to stone. And jaw, I might add.

Meanwhile, Bill Sokolin, of New York City, New York, broke a $587, 000 bottle of Chateau Lafite Rothschild 1787 that once belonged to Thomas Jefferson.

Not THE Thomas Jefferson, he insisted. A Thomas Jefferson. From Tempe, Arizona. Completely different Thomas Jefferson.

“For what it’s worth,” Bill said, “I’m sorry.”

“DON’T!” the unidentified woman from Kensington, England, screamed and lied, “DON’T. I have AIDS.”

“That’s OK, “Tony” of Notting Hill, England growled truthfully, so do I.” And so he did.

New Zealand’s Basil Rather’s parrot, Pepper, memorized 20 unrecorded Beatles’ songs. That’s easy to do when you’re the parrot of John Lennon! Will he record them himself? Probably not, he squawks.

Did Karl Mitterer know that his stomach would explode during surgery in Bamberg, Germany?


Did Karl Mitterer of Bamberg, Germany, suspect that it would explode all over the place? No, he did not either suspect that. His diet of beans and cabbage was not a bad thing and it was not his fault.

Did Nikos Binoki pops popcorn with his mind on a faraway, distant island in Greece?

Yes he did.

And it’s piping hot!

Yes, it is.

But in a way it is not, also.

Nikos Binoki.

Suspecting terrorists, the riot squad tore down the door to find Maureen Edwards of Farnham, England, in a flimsy kimono, fresh from love.

Maureen Edwards of Farnham England was fresh from love with an unidentified lover from Belfast, Ireland.

While faraway, in Japan, Itsuji Shimohira landed a plane poorly in somewhere, Japan. “I have disgraced myself and my family,” he said, and hung himself in the airport bathroom in Japan.

Pedro Rodriquez, residing in an unknown location, didn’t care about anything. He hated God and pointed a loaded 45 cal revolver at the sky and tried to kill Him.

Then there was this lightning storm. You would think it was funny but it wasn’t.

And there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

And now Pedro Rodriquez is dead.

Nostradamus said, “Of course, this is only a guesstimate.”

It’s getting late in Brazil, and also in New York.

It is still early in Tempe.

It’s rainy in England.

That is the bad news.

But there is more.

Jeannie Pepper of Casselberry, Florida, her heart?

By now, it’s turned to stone.

Saturday, November 13, 2010


Usually, the gravediggers say, we don’t get that much attention. But this is Charlie Chaplin, after all. Honest to Pete, some people love attention, but we like to just to do our work and be left alone.

Friday, November 12, 2010


We could spend our lives loving each other Krispy said, or we could spend our lives throwing little powdered chocolate donuts at each other.

Both of those options sound so appealing, replied Miss Donut, couldn’t you decide for me?

Miss Donut batted her eyelashes. They were a frosty pink.

Dear Reader: please consider that the prospect of throwing little powdered chocolate donuts carries an entirely greater significance for Mr. Kreme and Miss Donut than it would for you or me.

Monday, November 08, 2010


The List Of Famous Mustaches
by R. A. Riekki

When I think of famous mustaches I think of Hitler and the Village People. Take away Hitler, the Village People, and my Dad and no other mustaches immediately come to mind, except for Tom Selleck. And a milk mustache my sister had whenever she‘d eat Mom‘s oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. And another mustache that wasn‘t really a mustache was when I would hold up a plunger over my upper lip and tell my brother I had grown a mustache in the shape of a plunger and he would tell me to put it down, that my mustache had been in the toilet. My brother had brain surgery two months ago and the scars on the top of his head look like a Frankenstein mustache.

Monday, November 01, 2010


Mt Fuji? I thought to myself. Mt. Fuji? Why is it that all I can think of is cool, refreshing water

This could either be me talking to Mt Fuji or me wondering why when someone says Mt Fuji all I can think of is cool, refreshing water.

The third possibility is that it is me trying to remember Mt. Fuji when Sean Lennon says climbing Mt Fuji with his sexy girlfriend was his greatest accomplishment, which seems so wrong and beautiful but sure why not

The fourth possibility is that I never thought of Mt Fuji as a mountain that people climbed. Why do I not think about Mt. Fuji as a mountain to climb, I think of Mt. Fuji as...I don’t know

a mountain to say or a mountain to write down in a book, MT FUJI with a beautiful pen and I am parched

My sexy girlfriend climbed it as fast as the Australian marines, says Sean Lennon, not me

It is Mt. Fuji and then period there is no more story other than well

Mt Fuji
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