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Hello! I am not here! I was here when I wrote this, but now you’re reading it, so I must be gone! Yes, through the miracle of deferred posting, I can communicate with you, my minions, even though I’m four days in the past and/or nowhere near a wifi access point!

“Nowhere near a wifi access point!?” you exclaim, wetting yourself with terror and confusion. “Wherever can that be in this modern age of instantaneous digital communication?”

I am at the family cabin, way, way back in the hills. If I visit the folks while they’re here, I can wear nothing but jeans and t-shirts and they don’t make that “L is for Loser” sign at me.

So four days from now, which will be yesterday by today, I flew into the Tri-Cities airport and met my cousin, who drove up from Alabama. We do this every year, so I can tell you exactly how it went (will go) down.

We drove into the tanktown where I was born to visit my grandparents’ house. We agreed that it looked quite small compared to our memories of it, but that the current owners are taking good care of it. Only, they really shouldn’t have cut that tree down.

Then we went and stood on my grave and I said, “ha ha! Get me! I’m standing on my own grave!” My grandfather sold the old family farm to a cemetary and got a family plot and first dibs on the location as part of the deal. He chose a hillside he used to plow when he was a teenager. He and my grandmother and assorted Weasels are there, but somehow their headstones are jammed up against the headstones of the neighbors, so it looks like they were buried standing up. I hope they don’t bury me standing up; I suspect I’ll be awfully tired.

Finally, we head up into the mountains. Along the way, we stop and buy liquor. It’s not that there won’t be liquor at the cabin. There will be a very great deal of liquor at the cabin. But if you bring your own, nobody can tell how much you drink. Plus, I can get Jack Daniel’s Green Label here, and I can’t back home. I like it. It hurts.

My folks won’t get here until tomorrow, which is today now. I’ll tell you about that in a minute, four days ago, which will be tomorrow by then.


Comment from Steamboat McGoo
Time: July 9, 2007, 2:19 am

I am Harry Seldon McGoo!

Being an expert in psychohistory, I knew that Weasel would do this so I’ve “pre-posted” a comment in order to guide others in their future (now) postings.

Lokki will shortly post an outstanding poem addressing Jack Danials Green Label, but will have to change the last line at the last minute.

Jim Paine will use an obscure and entertaining word, and will typo the word “promulgate”.

Mrs. Peel will ignore us completely, as she is presently working a knotty problem in balistic trajectories.

Wabbit and Dawn will slay a small troll, who will never walk the same again.

Badger will say something profound.

Steamboat will make his usual ass out of himself. ‘Nuff said.

Comment from Uncle Badger
Time: July 9, 2007, 4:24 am

Hey! Weasel’s not really here! That means we can pull faces and throw paper airplanes and… stuff.

Oops! Sorry, McGoo.

Comment from Steamboat McGoo
Time: July 9, 2007, 7:54 am

See! Badger put his finger on the quintessential issue! You see Starbuck?! My chart is right and true! Neener, neener!

I met a Weasel out on the Net
He wasn’t there, but I didn’t fret.
He’s still not there – he’s visiting home
He typed and pre-posted so we won’t be alone.

Comment from Steamboat McGoo
Time: July 9, 2007, 8:08 am

No wifi access
Weasel toughs it out in Tenn.
Drinking numbs the pain.

JD Green Label
Inaccessible at home
Flows like white lightning.

Comment from Enas Yorl
Time: July 9, 2007, 9:38 am

Hah! I didn’t get a mention in Seldon McGoo’s psychohistorical projection!

I is Da Mule messin’ wit yur First Foundation.

JD green label? What’s that supposed to signify? Is it blessed by the Goracle?

Comment from jwpaine
Time: July 9, 2007, 9:57 am

Steamboat, your command of philosophunculism is exquisite! Please promlugate more psychohistorical predictions!

Comment from Dawn
Time: July 9, 2007, 10:11 am

McGoo, you’d better make it up to Enas. I think you hurt his feelers.

Comment from Lokki
Time: July 9, 2007, 10:18 am

Damn ! I was minding my own business and suddenly was overcome by an irresistible compulsion to write a long pointless ripoff of the Wreck of the Hesperus involving McGoo and Jack Daniel’s Green. I sure hope he forecasts me getting some work done today!

It was a rusty old black Cadillac,
That cruised the ocean highway number 3;
in which old McGoo had taken his little “niece”,
To bear him company.

Blue were her eyes as the fairy flax,
Her cheeks like the dawn of day,
And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds,
That ope in the month of May.

Red were her hotpants and her lipstick too
Her blouse was of whitest silken thread
And so thin her nips were showing through,
She was seventeen, she said.

McGoo he sat inside the car,
His hash pipe was in his mouth,
And he watched how the air conditioning did blow
The smoke now West, now South.

Then up and spake an old Uncle Badger,
Had sailed the Spanish Main,
“I pray thee, pull into yonder parking lot,
for you’ve drunk seven hurricanes.

“A hurricane is no man’s drink,
And to-night no tequila do we see!”
McGoo, he blew whiff from his pipe,
And a scornful laugh laughed he.

And fast through the midnight dark and drear,
he sped that open Cadillac car,
Like a drunken sailor, McGoo sped
Tow’rds the lights of Norman’s Bar.

Those neon lights tempted him to swerve
into that wildest club’s parking lot;
The car shuddered and creaked, as he jumped the curb,
and slid the car in an empty spot.

Come on – let’s have another round!
And lend me some more dough;
For tonight I drink Jack Daniels Green
And I do not drink it slow.”

Loud and louder played the band,
Punk rockers from the Northwest,
The beer poured hissing from the kegs ,
And the bartender did his best.

McGoo held his “niece” in a boozy close embrace
amidst the wildly dancing throng;
He tried to give her a frenchish kiss ,
And held her by her thong.

Then the ‘maiden’ clasped her hands and prayed
That saved from him she might be;
And she thought “Christ, he spilled his Jack Daniels Green!
And he spilled it all over me.”

She kicked him in his white boxer shorts
where he was soft as carded wool,
And the broken rocks brought down McGoo
fast as the horns of an angry bull.

Her blazing eyes were cold as the ice,
That McGoo into her blouse had poured;
in revenge for that cold glass, she’d highheeled his balls,
Ho! ho! the barroom roared!

At daybreak, on the bleak barroom floor,
A McGoo woke up alone,
His niece had left quite a nice little note ,
Don’t come over; don’t write; don’t phone.

So ended Saturday night for the old McGoo,
and he slowly limped out to his car
and lightening came out of his ass!

Christ save us all from a night like this,
which ends on the floor of Norman’s Bar!

Comment from Lokki
Time: July 9, 2007, 10:33 am

Whitishrabbit –

I haven’t forgetten the villanelle about sexually transmitted diseases, but I’m having a little trouble with it. Anybody know a good rhyme for gonorrhea?

Enas Yorl –The Mule established his empire incrementally, using past conquests to aid new ones: first by mentally converting a pirate band to his allegiance…

Is there a coup in the offing? Oh, and somebody pleaes pass the spice.

Comment from jwpaine
Time: July 9, 2007, 11:15 am

Bravo, Lokki!

Me, I’m too lazy to rewrite an epic, so I’ll stick to Ogden Nash:

The problem with a McGoo is that
He all too soon talks through his hat.

Comment from Steamboat McGoo
Time: July 9, 2007, 11:21 am

(Cackles in evil glee) It’s all come to pass as I foretold! God, I love opiates! Ya see things!

Enas – I didn’t mention you ’cause I am still (seriously) in awe about your shoe! But: I’ll wager that Weasel isn’t done with us yet.

Lokki – Outstanding! A really long, serious effort – if I may be so presumptious. You coulda made me more depraved, though. Kind of you to give me the benefit of the doubt.

…and, RE Mule and “Pirate band”? Who do we know that runs a pirate site?

…and, I, too, wrote down all the STD names (and associated vulgarities, of course) and was stumped on that villanelle. “Clap” rhymes better.

Comment from porkthebean
Time: July 9, 2007, 11:24 am

Hey McGoo, good luck on the hip. Be glad it is your hip and not your knee. My mother had her knee done and was delirious with pain for a couple of weeks. The SIL, an occupational therapist, says they never tell their clients what to expect as far as pain goes with the knees because it can be that bad. Hips aren’t as bad. Regardless, get your butt up and move asap as they recommend.

Whitishrabbit. Got to watch ‘Miss Potter’ over the weekend. Very sweet movie. I recommend it. The husband even liked it though the beautiful scenery helped.

Comment from whitishrabbit
Time: July 9, 2007, 11:29 am

I feel a lol coming on. Isn’t that amazing that Weasel still administers to his minions in absentia? I bet he spends selfless hours composing post-humous blogs so that we can continue to minion into eternity even after our fuzzy overlord has packed up his dark, tinted bottles for Valhalla. We sure have it good.

Lokki- *shakes head* It will come to you. This poetry muse, she’s a stubborn wench.

porknbeans- Oh, I’m so glad it’s good. I didn’t know you were a girl! Dawn, another girl! We’ll hafto initiate you, so you’re inured against the testosterone overload. The levels spike on Tuesdays and bank holidays.

Are Pupster and Muslihoon going to slay anything? How bout The Gnus? I bet Dave in Texas will give the small troll tea and cupcakes before we ‘slay it so it never walks the same’.

(Since trolls kind of shuffle or waddle, I guess that means it’ll leave this place with a tripping gait)

Comment from Shuko
Time: July 9, 2007, 11:29 am

I saw an old episode of “I.M. Weasel” yesterday and had fond pseudo-memories of this place. 🙂

During the summer I traveled,
To fair Tennessee with roads graveled.
I sought a reunion with kin,
And found drunken orgies within –
Whereupon my own mind then unraveled.

This is a little something from a person who actually LIVES in Tennessee (yes, me, lol).

Did you ever know that you could,
Go hunting with your auto hood?
If you strike a beast,
With your car at least,
You can keep the carcass for good!

Yep. My state’s known well for its “roadkill law,” lol.

Comment from Lokki
Time: July 9, 2007, 11:44 am

Hot Hood possum stew
The tastiest dish I know
Except Buick coon.

Comment from Steamboat McGoo
Time: July 9, 2007, 11:46 am


My search for the definition of “philosophunculism” has failed. So I assume it means “blatant self-serving bullshit”, in which case – thank you! A man is always happier doin’ what he’s good at!

Beaned Pork – so I’ve heard, so I’ve heard. Knees are supposed to really suck.

I asked my doc if we should – y’know – x-ray the knees, and he said, “Wait ’til my daughter’s ready for college. I’ll need the money then.” Wait – that might have been another pipe dream.

Comment from Steamboat McGoo
Time: July 9, 2007, 11:50 am

Muse’s ass, it be gittin’ kicked today!

Road-Kill Haiku. Space and Time may shatter. Weasel will be so pleased!

Comment from jwpaine
Time: July 9, 2007, 12:49 pm

Steamboat: My OED (unabridged, thank you very much!) says it means “a petty or insignificant philosopher” and shows among its first usages an 1840 Frasier’s Magazine quote “The unsettled races of the north… are Scotch philosophunculists and Irish savages.”

I came by the word (along with the equally wonderful “amphigory”) pretty much the way everyone else does: In Heinlein’s Stranger in a Strange Land.

Comment from Steamboat McGoo
Time: July 9, 2007, 1:05 pm


Interesting. Yes – “petty or insignificant philosopher” describes me/mine aptly. I’d read RAH’s SiaSL (of course) a long time ago, but don’t recall the word usage. Sounds like a word Jubal H would use, though.

Speaking of OED – have you read “The Professor and the Madman” by Simon Winchester? It’s about the creation of the OED – and its’ most famous/infamous word contributer. A facinating read. Simon Winchester has cracked out several really entertaining books in recent years.

Comment from jwpaine
Time: July 9, 2007, 1:23 pm

No, I hadn’t. Sounds like a very interesting book. I’ll have to get me a copy. Well-written popular history is pretty rare; most of it reads like a book report written by the lowest bidder.

Comment from Steamboat McGoo
Time: July 9, 2007, 1:51 pm

Yeah – the problem with popular history is that you never know what you’re getting until you’ve got it.

Simon Winchester does extremely well IMHO. He’s written about Krakatoa, Geology, and the OED, among others. All were page-turners.

Dava Sobel is another great popular history author. She did the history of John Harrison and the chronometer (made into a tv-miniseries, available on dvd, and worth every penny), Galileo, and the planets. All were worth the price.

Comment from jwpaine
Time: July 9, 2007, 3:17 pm

I’ll have to check out Sobel, too, then.

T.R. Fehrenbach is my favorite. He’s done excellent histories of the Comanche Indians, the state of Texas, the country of Mexico, and FDR–each one of them chockful of facts that never bore. Whenever I’m reading something by Ambrose I find myself wishing Fehrenbach had written it instead. (same goes for historical fiction; I always find myself wishing Clavell had written Michner’s entire oeuvre).

Comment from jwpaine
Time: July 9, 2007, 3:19 pm

Oops, Michener. Even if I hate the guy’s writing, I could at least spell his name right, huh.

Comment from Uncle Badger
Time: July 9, 2007, 5:58 pm

Good luck with the new hip, McGoo.

A friend of mine had it done and was back playing sport in next to no time.

Though what the hell I’m doing hanging around with people who do sport beats me.

Comment from Steamboat McGoo
Time: July 9, 2007, 7:06 pm

Thanks, Uncle-B. I, too, do not do sports. I figure I’m “saving” myself for when the team really needs me. I’ve been saving myself all of my life. So far, so good. The coach hasn’t put me in yet.

jw, I sometimes have issues with Ambrose, and I don’t care for his writing style. I will seek out T.R. Fehrenbach.

I’ve enjoyed most of Clavell’s books (King Rat, Noble House, Tai Pan, and Shogun come to mind). Michener – meh.

We are of one mind vis-a-vis authors, so it seems.

Comment from Steamboat McGoo
Time: July 9, 2007, 7:49 pm

Food there, in my grill
Pried from the radiator
Engine kept it warm.

Headlight bedazzled
Chassis-tumbled for flavor
Goodyear tenderized

Comment from Steamboat McGoo
Time: July 9, 2007, 7:59 pm

…and, because it was there:

The price of passion
The burning, stinging, itching
Yes – penicillin.

Comment from Gnus
Time: July 9, 2007, 8:08 pm

I liked Michener for a while, but it seemed that the more he wrote, the less he wrote. Oh, the books were just as long, but it seemed that the content sort of evaporated.

Meanwhile, McGoo describes the Roadkill Cafe.

Wabbit, what would you like slain today? (East wind bwow, West wind bwow.)

Such a clever sweasel. Posts from the mists of time gone by. And from TN, too. Who’d have thunk it?

Comment from jwpaine
Time: July 9, 2007, 8:21 pm

Michener’s only good book was his first, The Source. Everything subsequent to that is a short-story published at the end of voluminous research notes.

Speaking of dinner on the road:

Wrapped in some tin foil
A tired cottontail au jus
one manifold meal.

Comment from jwpaine
Time: July 9, 2007, 8:24 pm

And the inevitable:

Weasel vacates Tenn.
Feared he had a purdy mouth.
Y’all come back now, hear?

Comment from Steamboat McGoo
Time: July 9, 2007, 8:42 pm

Gnus – for some reason your comments on Michener reminded me of a remark someone once made about (I think) Robert Ludlum: “How many times is he going to write the same book?”

(Or was that John Le Carre?)

Roadkill haiku are easier than STD villanelles.

I have seen no troll action! Looks like the opiates failed me a bit. Here, maybe this’ll help:

Snooch – The Revenge.
Christian Unwed Mothers Against Origami!
Muslim Sow-Lovers Collective!
“Bacon ain’t just for Ramadan anymore!”
The Dromedary Violator’s Oath (French version)
I Can Haz Roadkill?

Comment from amuirin
Time: July 9, 2007, 9:29 pm

Looks like you’re rallying for a riot, there, McGoo.

We can only handle little trolls, remember.

Gnus- How bout you slay whatever undesirables McGoo just attracted. *nods*

…tired cotton-tail, jw? Fine. Make a stew out of my brethren. Gnaw on their bones, pick your teeth with their poor little bunny wish-bones.

Our household is having pirates for breakfast. *nods* With tutu hors d’oeuvres.

Comment from amuirin/whitishrabbit
Time: July 9, 2007, 9:32 pm

I wish my name had come up whitishrabbit instead of amuirin. The comment made more sense that way.

Comment from Steamboat McGoo
Time: July 9, 2007, 9:34 pm

I really, really apologize for this one:

A doe in my headlights was struck
By an oncoming 18-wheel truck
Overhead it did sail
With it’s head out it’s tail
And a buck that was tucked where it fucked.

Comment from jwpaine
Time: July 9, 2007, 9:50 pm

Pirate on half-shell
Stewed tutu, black-eyed-patches
Jolly Roger meal.

Comment from Steamboat McGoo
Time: July 9, 2007, 9:52 pm

A Weasel site known for its’ stew
of odd poetry, funny haiku,
and Rage Boy polemics,
Some book academics
But not many trolls – where are you?

Comment from Steamboat McGoo
Time: July 9, 2007, 10:08 pm

I refuse to believe there are none
Of them troll-folk out there – not a one.
Is it lightning you fear?
Yes, your beard it’ll sear
‘Til you’re cooked in the flames, fairly done.

Comment from Steamboat McGoo
Time: July 9, 2007, 10:15 pm

That was good, jw.

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