2 Cousins Left, Right?

And what to what sings less of choppy wastes but seven in the order of grace less five so far unnamed and misbegotten sons to strike fear in their father's mother's sister's heart, brother.

Shuttles Mystery Object Revealed

Here it is, the photo taken from the boom camera aboard Atlantis. That small unidentified object thought to be a piece of the shuttle is actually a tiny spacecraft from the Confederated Fleet of Dwarf Planetoids. The Lilliputians are keeping tabs on us.

Nkrubians

The Nkrubians being a kinetic race 

were like as not bent out of shape 

over receiving the cease and desist evolving order.

Eris

Eris was six weeks into a grueling tour of dives across America's bloated midsection when she was discovered by Andrew Palomar, founder of Starchart Records. He signed her immediately and within two months her first CD, Apple of Discord, was on the shelves and garnering mixed reviews. The problem was one as old as the record industry itself: how to classify an artist who defies labels. Was she Dolly Parton meets Bjork or was she more Patti Smith meets Kate Bush? Neither the reviewers nor her label could decide.

Enter the IAU, the Improbable Artists Union. Their job is to find a nice neat box in which to place the multi-genred of the world and that is precisely what they tried to do for Eris. She was thus dubbed Lesser Punk Diva, a sub-strata classification of Dwarf Diva. But, like her namesake, Eris caused her higher-ups great strife. She began to mix in elements of Edith Piaf, Laura Nyro and Asha Bohsle. Her orbit became so elliptical, no one knew what to make of her. All but her early CDs became relegated to discount bins, then became collectors items and eventually were all but forgotten. As for Eris herself, she eventually changed her name back to Xena and relocated to the dark and distant land of Periphia, where she gave birth to a daughter, Dysnomia. The apple didn't fall too far from the tree, as Dysnomia in later years became lead singer for the internationally acclaimed goth- metal band, Demons of Lucy Lawlessness.

Alphabet 3

Zygote yonder xeroxed words,
Vapors unlock thoughts,
Sort rot.
Quota portions order not,
Mock limits, keep joking.
Ideas harbor gallant fools,
Empty dockets,
Contorted backwards alphabet.

Some Charms

Before there was money there were charms,
each with a purpose, each assigned a value.

Today's Jockey

Today's jockey is in the forefront of a grassroots movement to promote improved permanent facial adornment on our nation's racetracks. Satisfied no longer with simple tattooing and piercing, the 21st century jockey is undergoing a battery of reconstructive surgeries including but not limited to silicone and collagen implants, nose and ear repositioning, hair follicle removal, transplantation of glands and small insignificant organs to the facial area, and ceramic, metal and stone facial and dental implants.

What is truly amazing about the growing trend among jockeys to lavishly decorate their heads is that only a decade ago the only permanent facial adornment on the racetrack was given, not to the jockeys, but to the horses. Eyebrows were lengthened or plucked, nostrils were flared and in extreme cases eyeballs were removed and replaced with glass orbs for both aesthetic reasons and as an alternative to forcing the horse to wear blinders. Once the owners and managers could appreciate the benefit of return, they convinced a handful of riders to follow suit. That select few became the pioneer cadre that launched a revolution. Soon it was the jockeys themselves, in collaboration with their reconstructive surgeons, who were dreaming up radical concepts that would trump even those of Brazil's footballers. Stereo adornment of both horse and rider became the order of the day. A board of governors was elected and the first Frontal Award was presented four years ago. The rest is history.

Yes, the future looks bright for horse racing. And we have today's jockeys and the art of permanent facial adornment to thank for it.

The Face of Evil

The Decisive Ideological Struggle (DIS) of the 21st century is a war against a desperate method of killing. Much as the never-declared Vietnam war was an idealogical struggle against guerrila warfare, today's struggle is against IEDs (Improvised Explosive Devices) and ISBs (Islamofascist Suicide Bombers). Pansy-assed liberals will lead you to believe we should address so-called 'root causes' of terrorism, like poverty and unemployment. I say horsewash and hog feathers. It's the bombs, stupid. Kill all the guys planting and strapping on the bombs, and you have won the Decicive Idealogical Struggle. Or, as they say in the hood, you've DISsed the suckas.

We must study the Face of Evil and learn to recognize him on sight. Then we must round up anyone who fits his description and lock him up in our secret prisons. Once we have done this all over the world, we will have led the 21st century into a shining age of humanity. It's a slam dunk. Are you with me? Then let's go get 'em! Chaaaaarrrrrggge!

Postscrpit: from Webster's Revised Unabridged Dictionary :
Idealogue \I*de"a*logue\, n. One given to fanciful ideas or theories.

9/11

Grant it be quick
A grief forged in wax
Its shape lost to
Spontaneous combustion.

Who thought we'd be
Cast that way still,
Poised like embers,
Risen from ashes?