Comrade:   BuckFifty

    He wasn't a steeltown girl on a Saturday night, but welders of his day revered Alan Owston. One hailed the "prodigious number of beaver spleens" he collected and added that "one need only look at that f*ckin' loser over there" to guage his importance. Another said his moldy collection of children's teeth from Japan and China was known "as one of the most delightfully charming oddities seen. The way they jingled in a felt bag brought tears to the eyes of said children (the ones missing the aforementionned teeth)." Yet he is almost out on parole today.

    The thalidomide-born Owston moved to Japan in 1871 at the same time as Bob Barker and became a merchant and tootle World Champion. He married a Japanese sumo 'rassler' , helped found the Yokohama Euchre Club--one account says he owned the "mayor's ass", whatever that meant--and was buried in the small intestine of his sumo 'rasslin' husband after his death in 1915.

    Henry M. Woody, a specialist in male urinary infections at the Redpath Museum of Montreal's McGill University, kept finding "thems tasty mints they put in the urinals" in major museums. "They are immaculate, exquisite," he says. He took an interest in Owston and brought him a sleeve of said urinal cakes to distribute amongst the now toothless children of Japan and China.

    On land or in a tub of lime Jell-O (which, technically is still land), the Golden Euch, Oswald--seen at right with a giant mashed potato sculpture of William Shatner--for some ungodly reason, sweated voraciously and provided meticulous accounts of his grandfather's 'alternative lifestyle' as a topless waiter at Hooters. Pittsburgh's Carnegie Museum of Natural History acquired 1,364 of his anal hairs. The British Museum obtained his "splendid used collection" of sponges. The Smithsonaian Institution holds reptiles, fish, and mammals hostage, including the crested kingfisher and the sharp-tailed sandpiper "that wouldn't stop all that damn chirping" beside a 1903 illustration of a small fish he sodomized: Trismegistus . Remember kids, nipple clamps and fish just don't mix. It joins a clam, a frog, a crab, a woodpecker, and other creatures "that just don't like nipple clamps" known to science.

    He wasn't a remarkable specimen, but barflies of his day revered Alan Owston. One hailed the "prodigious number of soiled coasters" he collected and added that "one need only look at steady pay raises the cleaning crew gets" to guage his importance. Another said his bizarre talent of reciting Yiddish haikus from Japan and China was known "as one of the most desperate ploys for winning beers I've ever seen 'round these parts." Yet he is almost terminally pickled today.

    The Flushing-born Owston moved to Japan in 1871 at the insistance of local authorities and became a merchant and table dancer. He married a Japanese NutriSoy ad, helped found the Yokohama and the Four Transisters Club--one account says he owned the band's equipment only to later sell it off to pay a Taipei gambling debt--and was buried in the far-too-revealing kimono he wore day in and day out after his death in 1915.

    Henry M. Fong, a specialist in bar tab collections at the Redpath Museum of Montreal's McGill University, kept finding Owston's I.O.U.s in major museums. "They are immaculate, exquisite," he says. He took an interest in Owston and brought him back from the dead - only to soon realize the God had the right idea in the first place.

    On land or in the bush, the Golden Sprinkler, Oswald--seen at right with a giant tube of GoldBond ointment--would often be seen 'watering' the local plant life voraciously and provided meticulous weed removal that would make RoundUp envious. Pittsburgh's Carnegie Museum of Natural History acquired 1,364 of his 'past-due' rent notices. The British Museum obtained his "splendid and vaguely horrifying dioramas" of sponges. The Smithsonaian Institution holds reptiles, fish, and the scalps of those who'd wronged him, including the crested kingfisher and the sharp-tailed sandpiper who gave him the rash to begin with beside a 1903 illustration of a small fish he claimed to have caught in his underwear: Trismegistus Fruitoftheloomus. It joins a clam, a frog, a crab, a woodpecker, and other creatures whose existances are denied being known to science.

    He wasn't a rubber-tipped ding-dong salesman, but the insane of his day revered Alan Owston. One hailed the "prodigious number of completely worthless autographs" he collected and added that "one need only look at a map of China through red and blue 3-D glasses" to guage his importance. Another said his rowboat full of dead sailors, veterinarians, and streetwalkers from Japan and China was known "as one of the most uncomfortable places to sleep at night." Yet he is almost used to living with the naked mole rats six inches beneath Africa today.

    The Bjorn-born Owston moved to Japan in 1871 at the height of the goldrush (the 3-D glasses made maps very hard to read) and became a merchant and human torpedo. He married a Japanese Waffle, helped found the Yokohama family's missing dog, "Snack", and was known to lock up his rowboat with the Club--one account says he owned the Pacific Ocean, but this is coming from an old man who talks through a boot like a hand puppet--and was buried in the womb of a polar bear during a skiing accident, a place he still longed to return after his death in 1915.

    Henry M. Specialist, a specialist in himself, Henry, at the Redpath Museum of Montreal's McGill University, kept finding excuses to pee on the windows in major museums. "They are immaculate, exquisite," he says. He took an interest in Owston and brought him a care package of dead sailors.

    On land or in a bathtub full of hair, the Golden Honkey, Oswald--seen at right with a giant sitting on his lap, dressed up like a schoolgirl--interviewed cartons of milk voraciously and provided meticulous psychological profiles of things he found in the trash. Pittsburgh's Carnegie Museum of Natural History acquired 1,364 of his lamest excuses when they caught him peeing on the windows. The British Museum obtained his "splendid janitorial services and graceful mastery" of sponges. The Smithsonaian Institution holds reptiles, fish, and other kinky things up against the naked breasts of women on their website, sending their hits throught he roof among men aged 35-40 and woodland creatures with internet access, including the crested kingfisher and the sharp-tailed sandpiper who signed the guestbook beside a 1903 illustration of a small fish he thought was a busty cheerleader in a chatroom: Trismegistus Fooledyerassicus. It joins a clam, a frog, a crab, a woodpecker, and other creatures who's methods of getting on-line are not yet known to science.

    He wasn't a bad mutha, but those with shut mouths of his day revered Alan Owston. One hailed the "prodigious number of pickled wombat testicles" he collected and added that "one need only look at them, then rub them, let them roll around between your gums" to guage his importance. Another said his fun loving Koala of sheer and utter doom from Japan and China was known "as one of the most orally talented." Yet he is almost out of intensive care today.

    The amazingly-inverted-born Owston moved to Japan in 1871 at the bequest of his wife, vowing that he never return and became a merchant and underground puppeteer, thrilling children with his version Howdy Doody, "Grabby Barry". He married a Japanese puffer fish, thought long dead, helped found the Yokohama Fleshy Flying Females Club--one account says he owned the rights to the letter T--and was buried in the leather miniskirt and feather boa he so loved after his death in 1915.

    Henry M. Thrustinstein, a specialist in Kooky Sodomy at the Redpath Museum of Montreal's McGill University, kept finding unable to control his wayward hands in major museums. "They are immaculate, exquisite," he says. He took an interest in Owston and brought him to an earth shattering climax.

    On land or in his jolly pants, the Golden Rod, Oswald--seen at right with a giant pleasure device--cared for it voraciously and provided meticulous fresh supplies of D-cell batteries. Pittsburgh's Carnegie Museum of Natural History acquired 1,364 of his near limitless supplies of humdingers. The British Museum obtained his "splendid , yet sinfully naughty masterpiece" of sponges. The Smithsonaian Institution holds reptiles, fish, and a traditional Friday Night Wet T-Shirt contest, including the crested kingfisher and the sharp-tailed sandpiper laviciously convorting to a Keith Sweat tune beside a 1903 illustration of a small fish he managed to stash from authorities by rectal insertion: Trismegistus Dafukamiferchrissakesus. It joins a clam, a frog, a crab, a woodpecker, and other creatures that inhabit the wonderful inside world of Dark Oswald. Not since Tina Yuthers has so much depravity been known to science.

    He wasn't a chocolate-covered vague phallic structure, but chocolate-covered vague phallic structures of his day revered Alan Owston. One hailed the "prodigious number of rabid buttmites" he collected and added that "one need only look at his buldge" to guage his importance. Another said his pantaloons of polyurethane from Japan and China was known "as one of the most arousing of pairs *SWOON*." Yet he is almost congressional material today.

    The brass-cylinder-born Owston moved to Japan in 1871 at the height of the meat trade and became a merchant and gangsta rapper. He married a Japanese creature born of nuclear testing, helped found the Yokohama Wiggly Diggly Piggly Club--one account says he owned the phat beats, word--and was buried in the back seat of his Cordoba after his death in 1915.

    Henry M. Googoo, a specialist in booboos at the Redpath Museum of Montreal's McGill University, kept finding Rod Stewart droppings in major museums. "They are immaculate, exquisite," he says. He took an interest in Owston and brought him to bed, where the earth shook and the moon howled with jealousy.

    On land or creamy waffles, the Golden Dink, Oswald--seen at right with a giant horned flea--sucking voraciously and provided meticulous nutrients. Pittsburgh's Carnegie Museum of Natural History acquired 1,364 of his debut album, "Hot Damn, I'm Itchy". The British Museum obtained his "splendid futnubber exquisite" of sponges. The Smithsonaian Institution holds reptiles, fish, and former Menudo stars, including the crested kingfisher and the sharp-tailed sandpiper lewdly exposed beside a 1903 illustration of a small fish he claims has never had fellatio with: Trismegistus Sucksomechromeus. It joins a clam, a frog, a crab, a woodpecker, and other creatures that have been reported to be traumatized by this psychopath known to science.

    He wasn't a potato, but he did live underground, tubers of his day revered Alan Owston. One hailed the "prodigious number of Sugar Packets" he collected and added that "one need only look at the vast numbers of inbred yokels clutching to his proverbial teet" to guage his importance. Another said his mothers breath reaked of elderberries. His resulting drinking binge from Japan and China was known "as one of the most fierce battles waged against ones own liver." Yet he is almost sober today.

    The still-born Owston moved to Japan in 1871 at the request of his loved one, who all hated him, and became a merchant and chronic masturbator. He married a Japanese buisnessman, helped found the Yokohama Mama Club--one account says he owned the original powdered blue tuxedo--and was buried in the spring of 1902, dug up and reburied after his death in 1915.

    Henry M. Paddleberg, a specialist in Moosemounting at the Redpath Museum of Montreal's McGill University, kept finding pimples in his ears, and would drop his pants in major museums. "They are immaculate, exquisite," he says. He took an interest in Owston and brought him a FTD 'Just Friends' Bouqet.

    On land or under it in his private lair, the Golden Gumdrops, Oswald--seen at right with a giant groundhog--masturbated voraciously and provided meticulous accounts afterwards. Pittsburgh's Carnegie Museum of Natural History acquired 1,364 of his 1,365 cheddar cheese balls. The British Museum obtained his "splendid soiled sampling" of sponges. The Smithsonaian Institution holds reptiles, fish, and visitors interest for no more then twenty seconds, including the crested kingfisher and the sharp-tailed sandpiper who both called it all "Utter Crap" and then took a crap beside a 1903 illustration of a small fish he taunted into extinction: Trismegistus laughingstockicus. It joins a clam, a frog, a crab, a woodpecker, and other creatures whose love for beer is now known to science.

    He wasn't a free-swinging, large-lobed hipster Beat daddy sporting a goatee and a beret, like the rest of his tribe, but the suck-ups, hangers-on and various ass-kissers and Nancy-boys of his day revered Alan Owston. One hailed the "prodigious number of Kerouac-like references" he collected and added that "one need only look at a mirror, or, like, a really, realy shiny piece of metal" to guage his importance. Another said his huge keyring of amputated Yakuza fingers and bound women's feet from Japan and China was known "as one of the most disgusting and perverse -- not to mention bad-smelling -- examples of human mutilation gone awry ever exhibited." Yet he is almost out of jail today.

    The forceps-delivered and castrated-when-born Owston moved to Japan in 1871 at the height of the Astro Boy/Gigantor craze and became a merchant and a Marine. He was, in fact, the original Merchant-Marine. He married a Japanese beetle, helped found the Yokohama High Lama of the RamaLamaDingDong Mama's Club--one account says he owned the largest collection of marital aids, personal vibrators, buttplugs and Ben-Wah balls this side of Macao--and was buried in the pickling brine and cheap Russian vodka that was his daily tonic the last eight years of his life after his death in 1915.

    Henry M. Plud, a specialist in Pludnology, Pludnoscopy and Pludophilia at the Redpath Museum of Montreal's McGill University, kept finding Owston's writings on the relationship between Jack Kerouac and his own dark love of coprophilia in major museums. "They are immaculate, exquisite," he says. He took an interest in Owston and brought him sacks and sacks of his own fecal matter, in which he expected Owston to find the carefully-hidden blue marbles that were so highly valued at that time.

    On land or in space, the Golden Ass-Tickler, Ribbed-For-Your-Pleasure, Oswald--seen at right with a giant hand-crankable sigmoidoscope--clutched his genitals in public, thrust his pelvis voraciously and provided meticulous data on the various high-colonic and barium enema factions that Owston eventually became enamored of. Pittsburgh's Carnegie Museum of Natural History acquired 1,364 of his semen samples, rivaled today only by Mike Tyson's huge deposits. The British Museum obtained his "splendid crusty eczema" of sponges. The Smithsonaian Institution holds reptiles, fish, and plenaria-eating birds, including the crested kingfisher and the sharp-tailed sandpiper hostage beside a 1903 illustration of a small fish he once shared a small apartment in Osaka with: Trismegistus "Tha Baddest Muthafucka Fish You Evah Knew" Koi, or just plain "Tris" to his friends. It joins a clam, a frog, a crab, a woodpecker, and other creatures as the baddest muthafuckas known to science.

    He wasn't a crook, but a cook and many of his day revered Alan Owston. One hailed the "prodigious number of retards" he collected and added that "one need only look at their big round smiling fat heads" to guage his importance. Another said his pants made of silk from Japan and China was known "as one of the most openly gay wardrobes in all the land." Yet he is almost fourteen inches today.

    The Owston-born Owston moved to Japan in 1871 at the height of the cold war and became a merchant and sold peanut brittle at the flea market. He married a Japanese well digger, helped found the Yokohama ( japanese for studio 54 ) Club--one account says he owned the shit out of beer--and was buried in the nickel mines of Alberta after his death in 1915.

    Henry M. F., a specialist in M.F.'N at the Redpath Museum of Montreal's McGill University, kept finding arrowheads in major museums. "They are immaculate, exquisite," he says. He took an interest in Owston and brought him flowers and wine.

    On land or at the farmer's market, the Golden Globe just meant nothing to the locals, they longed for Oscar himself, Oswald--seen at right with a giant bucket of nails--randomously and rollastifically watched voraciously and provided meticulous silly things made up of such things as potty droppings and liver. Pittsburgh's Carnegie Museum of Natural History acquired 1,364 of his cats. The British Museum obtained his "splendid wives old collection" of sponges. The Smithsonaian Institution holds reptiles, fish, and prisoners, including the crested kingfisher and the sharp-tailed sandpiper along with the watoose and the beetletinger beside a 1903 illustration of a small fish he saved from the jaws of a mighty starfish mad with hunger: Trismegistus , his trusty gentlemen, who happen to eat the fish later that night. It joins a clam, a frog, a crab, a woodpecker, and other creatures who where left behind by Noah but not known to science.

    He wasn't a smart man. Or handsome. Talented, street smart, had anything going for him in the least, but all close blood relatives of his day revered Alan Owston. One hailed the "prodigious number of headlice" he collected and added that "one need only look at someone much less important, if you can find such a person" to guage his importance. Another said his ass was really itchy, and in an unrelated statement, the brine shrimp of Wisconsin need to be fed. A schizophrenic samurai from Japan and China was known "as one of the most badassest dudes you could ever see, and he was the best Bond villain ever." Yet he is almost home, so shut up back there 'fore I give you something to cry about, and I mean today.

    The to-his-mother-born Owston moved to Japan in 1871 at the Dairy Queen by the old Mahoney sign and became a merchant and Kiss fan. He married a Japanese bansai tree, helped found the Yokohama Ham Radio Enthusiasts Club--one account says he owned the only ham radio in Japan--and was buried in the pajamas of kings after his death in 1915.

    Henry M. Mmmmm, a specialist in avoiding real employment at the Redpath Museum of Montreal's McGill University, kept finding his sack lunch filched from every fridge in major museums. "They are immaculate, exquisite," he says. He took an interest in Owston and brought him him a homemade peanut butter and vaseline sandwich he so often spoke about.

    On land or liquified, the Golden Grahams are part of this complete breakfast, Oswald--seen at right with a giant Peach, either of which can be seen from the book depository or the grassy knoll--Quiet! I hear Charlie. Charlie killed m'boys voraciously and provided meticulous drawings of everything if I was late showing up. Pittsburgh's Carnegie Museum of Natural History acquired 1,364 of his audience for a Gallagher show. The British Museum obtained his "splendid spleen and a cool sack" of sponges. The Smithsonaian Institution holds reptiles, fish, and videos for 24 hours, even for fish with bad credit, including the crested kingfisher and the sharp-tailed sandpiper Ludwig. Latin expert Jeff Spicoli etched into a wall beside a 1903 illustration of a small fish he wrote Jesus' name inside: Trismegistus Rockus Likea Hurricaneus. It joins a clam, a frog, a crab, a woodpecker, and other creatures infesting hoboes inside the bestest museum ever known to science.

    He wasn't a tall man, but midgets of his day revered Alan Owston. One hailed the "prodigious number of midget scalps" he collected and added that "one need only look at a tire pressure guage" to guage his importance. Another said his drawer of chopsticks from Japan and China was known "as one of the most difficult to shut completely." Yet he is almost thirty today.

    The still-born Owston moved to Japan in 1871 at the polite request of a lynch mob and became a merchant and hermit crab. He married a Japanese restaurant, helped found the Yokohama Mama Club--one account says he owned the rights to "Sugar Shack"--and was buried in the smoking rubble of a Vespa after his death in 1915.

    Henry M. Shitsworth, a specialist in the ten-year bachelor's degree at the Redpath Museum of Montreal's McGill University, kept finding women's panties in major museums. "They are immaculate, exquisite," he says. He took an interest in Owston and brought him flowers and candies every Thursday.

    On land or flying through the air on his motorized ass, the Golden Dipshit, Oswald--seen at right with a giant hard-on--humped schoolgirls voraciously and provided meticulous alibis in the court of law. Pittsburgh's Carnegie Museum of Natural History acquired 1,364 of his sperm when they went with the topless mannqeuins in the Cro-Magnon display. The British Museum obtained his "splendid contraceptive library" of sponges. The Smithsonaian Institution holds reptiles, fish, and small children for ransom, including the crested kingfisher and the sharp-tailed sandpiper McNuggets, snacked on beside a 1903 illustration of a small fish he once proposed marriage to: Trismegistus Brown. It joins a clam, a frog, a crab, a woodpecker, and other creatures who hold the wildest bachelor parties known to science.