sweasel.com

No! Baggette (or whatever the hell Islamic Rage Boy’s name is–I don’t feel like looking it up), No! Touch the weasel there and you’ll have to use your left hand to pick your nose! And we all know where that hand has been!

You just know that rage boy smells like ass.

…& buttermilk.

If that boy rang a Weasel’s doorbell, I can guarantee he smells worse than that. Weasels can outstink skunks, if they are so moved…

There once was an unwashed Rage Boy
who had never heard of Life Buoy
He stank like a goat or so said the stoat
But it’s more like dead camel ass says I

Are you Irish, by any chance, Lokki? Because that’s the only circumstance under which I will give you “I” as a rhyme for “boy.”

Still, I’ll give you this: your meter is not-sucking.

You know, the Poetry Police are just itching to raid this place; you knuckleheads are costing me a fortune in bribes.

Start setting specific poetry challenges.
It will quickly take on the aspect of homework, and the muse will go back to Haight -Ashbury or wherever she came from.

example: On tuesdays, all comments must be in the form of a triolet, and end with a line of latin.

Maybe you could take requests.

I think we should have a day devoted to villanelles about sexually transmitted diseases.

There’s a certain karmic resonance, me ending up with a blog that breaks into poetry at the slightest provocation. I could never read poetry. I can listen to it read aloud and enjoy it, but if poetry shows up on the printed page, my eyeballs slide right off it.

I don’t like the look of that boy’s finger. I really don’t. I swear I didn’t do that on purpose.

I have to get up at 3am to drive in to Boston Logan to catch a plane to visit my aging folks. So I’m on an accelerated drinking schedule tonight. Drinking fast is a bad idea. I am a firm proponent of bad ideas.

Tis for sure, now, that I’m not an Irish lad. I was just too lazy to find something that fit better with ‘boy’, and

“ And lightening shot out of his ass “is so been done already.

I promise to do better next time, but I figured that you et al would be too hammered by this time on a Saturday to notice it doesn’t really rhyme at all…..

Still,since I’m so busted for being lazy, I’d better clean up after myself so:

There once was an unwashed Rage Boy
who had never heard of Life Buoy
He stank like a goat or so said the stoat

hmmm

ahoy, alloy, annoy, bellboy, boy, buoy, busboy, carboy, choirboy, convoy, cowboy, coy, decoy, deploy, destroy, doughboy, employ, enjoy, envoy, hanoi, highboy, houseboy, joy, killjoy, lowboy, newsboy, octroy, pageboy, playboy, ploughboy, plowboy, ploy, poi, schoolboy, soy, tolstoy, tomboy, toy, troy, viceroy

But it’s more like dead camel ass says I poi
\\yeah, that’s better!

Oy! Hoi polloi!
Gung hei faat choi!
Hammered, moi?

Coy pageboy schoolboy ploy destroys
decoy hanoi envoy playboy
ploy annoys killjoy choirboy viceroy

Thinks: I believe I need another drink

I just learned all I never needed to know about poetry at
http://www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/types.html
Who knew there were so many rules? Poetry is sort of like the literary equivalent of trig.

You people are amusing and frightening. In that I am frightened that I am so amused.

Dawn- True story, i might have looked at that same site, earlier.

sweasel- half an hour till wake and lift off. Hope you have a froopy reunion. (Douglas Adam’s term, ‘froopy’)

Right! This is me, off!

I set a second alarm, just to be sure. I’ve never set the alarm on that clock before. So I did not know the alarm on it goes “cock-a-doodle-dooooooo!” Took me right back to childhood, that. I hated childhood.

Right. Wish me luck! My parents are old, but their kung fu is strong…!

*laughs* good luck

…so there I was, sitting in the breakdown lane on southbound I55 in the friday sun, about to be fiscally violated by this huge MO Highway Patrol guy with a ticket book, when a pickup truck went by on the service road with three migrant workers in the back. The MoHP guy guffawed and remarked, “Look! Someone threw away three perfectly good wetbacks.”

Now, boys and girls, McGoo was not brought up to be a racist. Dear ol’ mom and dad did not tolerate racism. McGoo does not like racist jokes – except about Scandi’s and the occasional midget porn star. And Liberals. Oh – And Al Gore, too.

McGoo was also facing four – yes, four – tickets: speeding (85 in a 70 – um…yes), failure to signal lane change (so?), Careless & Imprudent (not actually, it just looked that way), and a dead taillight (yep). There was a chance that the cop might have just hauled me in to the pokey.

I fear the pokey. People have been known to get…poked…in the pokey. This is not in my gameplan.

Now, what should McGoo do:

a) Laugh my evilest laugh while giving the cop a knowing & approving white-supremist smirk – hoping to avoid the tickets?
b) Remain stone-faced and silently disapproving, and take my tickets like a man?
c) Ask for the name of his commanding officer – and seal my pokey fate?

b.

I bet you figured out a plan D though, huh? Since you don’t seem to be in the pokey…

I’m guessing

E) Holler ‘Top o’the world, Ma!’ then run cackling madly down the asphalt until a hail of bullets puts an end to your foolhardy escape….

E was a temptation, I admit. B was the fallback option.

Wabbit is right: D) I replied to him, “They’re probably just cruising for a 4th for a few rubbers of bridge, Sir.”

I got off with a stern warning for the C&I, for reasons not mentioned. Someone was harrassing me on the road and I’d finally had enough. The cop observed all of it. My speed and maneuvers were simply to get rid of ’em. And…I pulled out my handy-dandy lightbulb kit and replaced the burned out taillight bulb on-site. (I’ve been there before). He was satisfied. The other car was ticketed.

Adventures in driving: I can live without them. The rest of the trip was uneventful, thank goodness.

Soooo…poetry is gonna take on a whole new complexity if we use all these new-fangled (is there an old-fangled?) poem types. I might just stick to haiku and limerick – with the occasional complete soiling of known works by legitimate poets.

I have to admit during the fambly reunion I was thinking of IRB rhymes.

…And that IRB finger on the Weekend Weasel photo is an offense against Weaselhood.

Correct me if I am wrong McGoo, but I thought driving in the back of a pick-up was ticket worthy. Or is it that you can’t let your kids ride in the back?

Kids are a no-no for sure, most places. But I think it depends on which state you’re talking about and on what road. Here in MO (and in Tx) I’ve seen any number of farm workers riding in the back out on the country roads – and on hwy service roads. Nobody bats an eye so far as I know.

I believe it also depends on jurisdiction: county versus city versus HP. But I really don’t know.

That was such a Paul Harvey. I figured there had to be a ‘rest of the story’, or you’d so be limericking to the jail house blues.

Did you call any relatives Sparky or Bunny? Did the potato salad have enough paprika in it? Details, details, I’m under voluntary house arrest cus I spent all the weekend’s fun money on 5 hands of 7 card stud.

*mournful look* I’ll get them back next Friday.

Nope. No colorful handles for my relatives. The p-salad had just the right amount of paprika in it. The deviled eggs were great and I ate a bunch – yes, a BUNCH – , which produced hours of personal entertainment for me and passersby in my hotel room and hallway later. I may make this a personal&private tradition from now on.

Cousin (A) is getting her third divorce (every 7 years!) – and had a date that very night with prospect #4. Great-cousin (B) is trying to get his new wife preggers without success. I question his competence.

The countryside was beautiful, as usual. The corn & rice fields were gorgeous. I love the color of rice fields. Weather was hot but breezy.

7 card stud? Ouch. I used to like poker when I was in school. I wasn’t very good, but, then again, neither were my opponents. A good time was usually had by all.

Rabbit – true story – I watched a Jude Law movie the same night (Thursday) you did. The Vacation – my dh hated it.

Does dh mean “darling husband” or “damned husband” or just plain dickhead? Or all three? No offense – just guessing, and curious.

Dawn- The Vacation… I saw The Holiday. I’m wondering if they’re the same movie? I liked it, though it was wildly predictable. The part about gumption seemed reallly relevant. Queen Latifah was in a movie called ‘The Last Holiday’ which had a terrible, unrealistic plot, but was really an enjoyable flick if you should feel the need to torment your fella some more.

Steamboat- wow. when you give details, you give DETAILS. I’ve never seen rice fields, except in vietnam movies. Your hotel neighbors likely thought whatever you’d eaten really did come from the devil.

I shouldn’t play 7 card Stud. Ever. It’s not a good game for the curious mind.
Something you never hear Phil Ivey say, “I just had to see the last card.”

Those were the highlights. There was much catching up and gossip. I was interrogated as to how my house/land search was going in the area (I’m moving there in a few months – hopefully). All were sympathetic about my upcoming hip surgery (new hip joint this coming thursday! Yee-ha.).

I stopped playing “social” poker when I read somewhere that “If you’re not there to rip the other players’ hearts out, then you’re just being a fool.” Don’t know if its true, though.

Rice fields – young ones – are a particular shade of green, are extremely uniform, and have a neat grassy texture. I am really fond of them. I don’t know why.

Anyone know when Weasel will be getting back?

Rabbit – It was The Holiday – wow – that’s just weird!

McGoo – dh = dear husband.

That is weird. I wanna see that Beatrix Potter movie.

McGoo- He didn’t say… I figured he’d be posting again tomorrow as usual.

I will definately rent Miss Potter. Thanks for the tip.
My girlfriends and I are anxiously awaiting Becoming Jane Austen. Ahhhh…chick flicks!
McGoo, I have only ever heard good things about hip replacement surgery. You’ll be a new man.

God, I hope so, Dawn! I am tired of being seriously disabled right at the time of my life where I had planned on being most physically active. This hit rather suddenly after Thanksgiving – but has been quietly building for 1-2 decades without my permission. How rude!

You do realize that part of McGoo’s boyish charm here has been due to the SERIOUS painkillers he’s been taking – both perscription and self-administered? I might change more than you think.

Can’t wait to have a pill-free day! And…I look forward to not viewing stairs the way I view Nazi Germany or IRB.

McGoo –

I have a friend who had hip surgery about two years back….it’s greatly improved her golf game… and the pain is gone…..Good luck !

Thanks Lokki. As Dawn said, I have heard almost all good things about it. I am really, really looking forward to not having to make the daily pain/coherence/mobility decision.