all kinds of monkeys win a prize

Whoso pulleth this word from this mouf will be the trueborn Queeb of Llywernog!

puttering about the mindscape, nahp. finding only old oily cloths and battered portmanteaus fillt with socks withal. and the thumpyer said that all the seas would crease their eyes and drink the firment up. do see the wip or thum that gord or blahs the nahtty.

golden daredevils plummet: defenestrated all. kiss their gold-heads and close their pore pore eyes. feel the grummy nuppit, when all the yold party-favors call to collect their wares. askulap the telefonical: feel its shugry grip round about yer nekk! oh, bleeve me! please.

jumpin on the ropes, i’m there. and not there. feel that crass crushing of harps. twang the heart right out of ya. i’m so so so-ing. feebleminded and crackpated, ulp, goes that big-throated murmur. fell eyelids crouching on the scarpment. weezel and dodoizer combined. almost, saullike needing some sweet melodiary to calm the seething furnace. and where are the words when you need them to ring forth with bright song?

lord knows, there’s enough milkweed floating around out there. dash it all!

******The Pinocchio Theory*******
eh?
grumbling, nnit.
duncecapwearingme.
who’s sittittitting in the corner now?
my dreams have all (every last bolshy one) fled to the attic. can’t even peel back a rash and find them there.
so’s the wicked shorn cat sliding on the moon?

A great idea regarding copyright law

Lawrence Lessig has a great idea regarding copyright law. Basically, the idea is that, after 50 years(!), a work will pass into the public domain UNLESS the copyright holder pays a $1 ‘maintenance fee’. Seems ultra-reasonable to me.

Anyway, Mr. Lessig’s description is far more detailed than my own and also includes links to write to your congresspeople.

a greasy whirring pressure behind the eyes

the humming and the whirring clicking of those teeth. and they had eyes too
frantically, or moreso, because the self-described “bum” had a great shiningJackNicholson . creepy, steeping back, leaning back. still close. watching that one red eye/one white eye peering at me. such care with the brew. can’t go to breed hungry.

i have seen the arms of god flailing in the wind, or the sun, or something invisible that escapes my notice. and then he asked me if i wanted to kill some vietnamese. i said that i wasn’t into that kind of thing. he sighed. i wouldn’t buy him pabst either. who would’ve thought our mayor was a chinese communist mole?

still reeling from a bit of rejection… fuck that papertrail, donchaknow. the eyes have it. all the cheesecarriers are out on patrol. who? or what? has eeten all the choice cookies? why arent there any left? (oh pooh! pleny of cookies, you squaller!)