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07/13/26   
Terrifyingly adequate

There Was No Way to Tell

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December 9, 2002


he tree hopped down from the hill
and he dashed through the field.
The sun had been peeled
and the clouds were as plump
as a Chinaman's rump.

A squirrel was asleep on a branch,
he awoke with a blanch
and he turned a stark white
when the fright
leapt up from his toes like a flash.

A duck somersaulted through the grass,
he was stoned off his ass
on crackers.
No, no, quackers!
The duck thought this funny as he saulted.

So he missed it when the tree ran by,
though a fly
saw it twelve dozen times
because that's the kind of eyes
God gave him, we surmise
he got bored after five.

When Luchas, who was chewing on a fig
he had pulled from his wig,
saw the tree he cashed it in.
In the seat of his pants,
where a platoon of ants
quickly voted to find a new place to live.

Sanchel thought the thing was a dream,
so she couldn't help but scream
when she saw the tree had ice cream.

"A looper! A looper on the loose!"
cried a tri-colored goose
when he saw the tree streak nakedly by.

"Ah-ah?" said poor Renal from the South
as ham fell from his mouth.
When the tree stepped on right-foot blue
he forgot how to chew,
his Twister picnic interrupted.

The scientist was taken aback
while on her date with Lumber Jack.
"This cannot be! I must investigate!"

But she for one ran too slow and too late,
for Jack jumped up in a haste
and with axe in had, he took up chase.

This parade was quite the sight to see.
A dozen lit out for the tree,
sure that magical lands awaited.

But when the tree dove trunk-first in the river,
the group gave up with a toe-dip and a shiver,
their curiosity abated.

After all, let's not get carried away here.



Quote of the Day
“A little bad taste is like a dash of paprika. A lot of bad taste, like a grinder full of cayenne pepper. And doing that annoying Cajun guy impression while doing anything—well, that's just beyond bad taste.”

-Dirty Parkbench
Fortune 500 Cookie
In the annals of history, there has always been one man who laughs uncontrollably whenever someone says "annals"—that's your legacy. Turn up the heat this week, 'cause that fucking turkey has been in the oven since Saturday. If you can't beat them, join them, and show them what real losers they are for accepting you into the group. Lucky bastards this week are Tom Monroe, Pete Gelbart, Judy Simon, and that son you're pretty sure is living in Winnipeg now.


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