MODERN WISDOM NUMBER 186 APRIL 2014

MODERN WISDOM: AMERICA’S ONLY HUMOR MAGAZINE
NUMBER 186
APRIL 2014
Copyright 2014 Francis DiMenno
http://dimenno.gather.com
dimenno@gmail.com
http://www.dimenno.wordpress.com

EDITORIAL:
WHY WHAT I WRITE IS GREAT LITERATURE AND THE STUFF OTHER CHUMPS HACK OUT IS MERE TRASH

It’s simple, really. My literary productions are enduring, evanescent, complex. Whereas the fodder the other jerks churn out with disgusting alacrity is straightforward pap which walks on its itty-bitty tippy-toes lest it prove baffling to and unduly confuse the typical 12-year-old. My immortal work has to be shuffled, perused, studied, pondered, digested. The prolefeed those other duffers regurgitate is merely read once then discarded like the rubbish it truly is. (I beg of you: shred it, don’t burn it, for the thick greasy smoke it gives off ruins the atmosphere.) The products of my pen are stirring, cathartic, life-altering. The trashbin-ready muck the other guys scribble is ultimately mind-numbing–good for soothing crying babies but little more. My work constitutes a peak experience. Theirs is quotidian, mundane, crass, chaff, fluff, pap, poo, so-so.

I tell you this in simple honesty: my finely-crafted masterpieces are classic and deep. Theirs are superficial pulp potboilers with clammy delusions of middlebrow adequacy. I tell you with a depth of sincerity that only the truly great writers can muster that I am the master of the telling detail, the nuanced inflection, the subtle touch. Whereas they specialize in superficial observations that any third-string copyboy could belch up at will. I pilot an art yacht. They steer a tugboat commodity. (Note the masterful use of metaphor.)

Listen: my world-shaking prose demands the fullest use of all your mental faculties–plus a few you never “knew” you had. Theirs merely demands the mildly avid intellect of a scrappy chimp wearing an absurd beanie. I am difficult. They are easy. I am rare. They are commonplace. My plots (if you can characterize such masterly storytelling verve with such a colorless and grossly under-descriptive technical term) arise naturally from organic situations. Their sausage-casing-thin contrivances merely soil waste-paper. My art transcends its skillfully hidden mechanics; in their crap you can see the creaky narrative machinery even as it visibly rusts its way to a well-deserved oblivion. My prose lives; theirs is lifeless. I reach peaks of transcendence. They plumb the depths of pretentiousness. I speak to the awake. They mollify the tired. I open the mind. They close it. I utilize internalized specialist knowledge to evoke my thoroughly convincing in-depth descriptions. They toss boring reams of generalized knowledge at the luckless reader in a meretricious stab at sham omnipotence. My every technique practically shouts genesis. They merely replicate. I create divinely immortal gems as part of an enduring process. They excrete hogwash. I divert. They distract. I ask difficult questions. They supply easy answers.

Still not convinced? Let’s get down to business. I am fully and tragically human. They are laughing, prelapsarian animals. Every word from my pen is fully thought-out and then re-thought. Whereas every trite drop of tripey detritus they trot out is lacking in all art or use of any of the higher faculties. I am one for the history books. They are yesterday’s papers. I am a swan. They are the ugly duckling.

In fine: I matter. They do not. My use of consequential rhetoric moves statesmen first, to tears–then, to action. Their meaningless cliches don’t even fool ward-heelers. I am a star: like the sun, I am one of a kind and my light is all-pervasive. They are subsidiary bodies: like the moon, they are a cold satellite which merely reflects the true light. (Again: note the groovy metaphor.)

To conclude: I sing. They stammer. I am generative. They are derivative. I originate. They clone. Me: good. Them: bad. Like I said before, my stuff is ambiguous. For instance, you can’t tell if I’m kidding or not, right?  Well, I’m not kidding. Not really. Just sorta. (Note well my utterly masterful use of colloquial speech!)

AND NOW…MODERN WISDOM PRESENTS:
1. THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF KNOCKOFFS
2. PROFESSOR RISIBLE
3. CAN THAT ROT
4. THE SERMON ON THE PLAIN
5. POEMS BY CLARK KENT
6. THE CHRISTMAS SLAVE SHIP
7. THE PARROT’S WIFE
8. GOODBYE DAY
9. A CHANCE OF SORROWS
10. THE ANGRY NORTH
11. MYSTERY SMITH
12. VENI, VIDI, WIKI
13. LOONEY PLANET GUIDE TO THE USA
14. A HUNDRED BOOKS I DIDN’T WRITE
15. MANNA FOR CYNICS
16. FUN TIME FUN
17. GOD HELP THE TROUBADOUR
18. APE-X
19. MAYBE I NEED A REPLACEMENT
20. WE ALL FALL DOWN

21.
OBSERVATIONS
1. There’s no fascism like Zen fascism.
2. Your Mama’s so snobbish she wrote PRIDE AND MORE PRIDE.
3. I’m so macho I only eat steel-cut oats.
4. Everything ever written could be interpreted as an annotated suicide note.
5. Before you condemn anybody, look deep into your own heart. And
then condemn them.
6. When the world begs you to pull its finger–don’t do it.
7. The Pope once said that drug addiction is grounds for divorce. I say
that marriage is grounds for drug addiction.
8. Every popular song carries the exact same subliminal message: “Look at me.”
9. I’m not sure, but I think it was Ayn Rand’s feet that we saw under the
house at the beginning of The Wizard of Oz.
10. I am disappointed by God. His early stuff was hardcore, with all the floods and maimings and stuff. That’s because Warner/Reprise treated Him right. Gave Him room to stretch. But Clive Davis just dumped so much moolah on Him that He just couldn’t say no. Then He went all softy on us. I’d say it was just after He signed with Arista. (But listen: The same thing happened with Clapton.)

22.
I’M AN HONEST WORKING MAN–HAND OVER THE MONEY

Hi! How are you? Listen listen listen: why am I begging you to give me your spare change? Well, let me tell you something–I still got my pride. AND, ORDINARILY, I WOULDN’T BOTHER ASKING YOU FOR YOUR STINKING NICKELS AND DIMES! But you see, I’m kind of unemployed at the moment. Fact is, I just got laid off from my stinking job.

No–actually, I think YOUR attitude sucks! Hey! Listen–I’ll have you know that I have got a PROFESSIONAL degree, so when I ask you if you got any spare change, it’s not “begging”–it’s “market research.”

How did I lose my job? Long story short? OK–so maybe I wasn’t the best worker. But is it my fault? Doctors say it isn’t healthy to stare at a computer all day long. So I like to take a 10 minute work break–every ten minutes or so.

The reason I can’t find another job? I honestly don’t know. I just sent out a resume. Everyone’s out of work these days and sending out resumes, so to stand out you’ve got to have a gimmick. So I wrote my resume on a nest of fire ants. Well, wouldn’t you know it–the personnel director sprinkled boric acid on the doorsills. That’s OK. I didn’t really want to work there anyway. I ask you–what kind of maniac would sprinkle eyewash in the vestibule?

All this stress and anxiety is enough to make me go right off the deep end. Get this: I was hurrying to get to a job interview, but I ended up not going because I had to stop the car in the middle of the turnpike because I heard voices telling me to kill. Come to find out, it was just the Howard Stern show. But do you think the judge would listen? NO!

Maybe it was all for the best. I really don’t interview very well. I admit it. When they ask me if I’ve had any experience, I say to them “Nothing I’ve done in my life is worth any money to you.”

I got a lot of time to kill, so lately I’ve been reading books about the Kennedy assassination, and hey, listen to this: there was something VEERY FISHY about that grassy knoll. Also, I’m beginning to suspect that Oswald was just a patsy.

Now, don’t get me wrong–I’m not a conspiracy theorist. I prefer to be called an “anthropological systems analyst.”

Say–can you lend me a fiver? You know I’ll pay you back. I need to go buy some cough medicine. No, don’t go and buy it for me–it’s a special kind. You don’t believe me? Listen:

HAK KAK KAK GUK HAK HAK HAK

Don’t mind me–I’m not choking, I just turn blue in the face for fun. HEY–COME BACK!

I AM A SUPREME INTELLECT! AND YOU ARE A MERE INSECT! AN INSECT! BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ! HA HA HA!

Ahem. Hi! Hi! How are you? Listen listen listen: why am I begging you to give me your spare change? Well, let me tell you something–I still got my pride. AND, ORDINARILY….

23.
HOW I TRY TO HELP TO MAKE AMERICA GREAT BY PRACTICING COMPASSIONATE CONSERVATISM

A funny thing happened to me on the way over here. I just flew in from Australia…and I scorched an Aborigine with my jet pack. Don’t you hate it when that happens?

No, but seriously. On the way over here, I saw a homeless person teaching his dog to beg. How do you like that? He was teaching his DOG to beg! It’s a franchise!

Anyway, I guess it’s time to talk about how I am a true compassionate conservative. How do I exemplify this creed? Let me count the ways:

Every now and then I like to give my dog a treat…so I throw a boullion cube in the toilet bowl.

I never talk down to children. Only adults are mature enough to be condescended to.

I shot and killed the last Dodo. But that’s OK, because I gave the meat to the poor.

I am against the cloning of humans. I think we should clone money.

I’m a member of the Free Speech coalition…but I’d rather not talk about it.

I would never bite the hand that feeds me. The meat is firmer and juicier further up the arm.

I don’t have messianic delusions. At least, that’s what Mr. Jesus tells me.

I saw a beggar on the street, and, for his own good, I kicked him. But, I was wearing slippers.

I think we should end racism. And let the class warfare begin.

I hope you have found these examples instructive. You will note that compassionate conservatism does not involve actually giving any money away. Because you see, my friends, giving away money is not the true meaning of compassionate conservatism. Conservatives do not believe that money is everything. They just believe it will have to do until something better comes along.

24.
150 CELEBRITIES 150!
I confess that I used to gasp in awe at the utter cupidity of the mass media, always booming the exploits of flash-in-the-pans and Johnny-come-latelys and chronicling the doings of tired has-beens like Liz and Liza (with a Z)  and promoting with a lackey’s perfervid avidity the daring deeds of folks like Robin Williams and Jack Nicholson and slavishly hanging upon the thoughts and words of bright dimbulbs like Oprah and Rosie. But now I get it. The human mind can only remember about 150 people. And if you manage to claw your way into the charmed circle of the current top 40 or 50, you’ve got it made. The struggle is in staying there long enough to establish a pattern of behavior that a significant number of people will identify with and remember. (“I vant to be alone;” “Come with me to zee casbah;” “Play it again, Sam.”) Because within that 150 there are basically three divisions, just surely as “Gallia est in tres partes divisa:” 1) The Immortal Stereotypes From the 30s and 40s Who Broke the Mold: Chaplin, Groucho, the Duke; 2) The Future Immortals From the 50s and 60s Who Picked It Up and Ran With It: Sid Caesar, Steve Allen, Clint Eastwood; 3) The Present-Day Immortals From the 70s and 80s Who May or May Not Be Remembered: Richard Pryor, David Letterman, Arnold Schwartzeneggar. Category one has a half-life of about 30 or 40 years; category two has a shelf-life of maybe 10 to 20 years, and together these two categories constitute about 100 recognizable names. This leaves about 40 or 50 slots for present-day celebs to jockey for. No wonder the rascals are always promoting themselves so shamelessly and aggressively via inane talk shows! No wonder the media promulgates their deeds so vigorously! It’s a closed system, just like we learned about in 10th grade biology: The media sea generates a fog of notoriety and that sea replenishes itself by means of the ensuing rain (and reign) of celebrities who jockey ceaselessly for face time. Or perhaps a more familiar model will serve to illustrate my point: The broadcast media is the market, the celebrity is the name brand, and familiar novelties which consist of mere reconfigurations of meat and potatoes keeps the customers happy and thus ensure that the franchise remains profitable. Maybe someday somebody will tell the stars their day is done but as long as marginal types continue to stupefy themselves and respectable types are too scared to squawk we’re unlikely to see it–at least, in our lifetimes.

25.
MY OSCAR ACCEPTANCE SPEECH
This is the very first time that I, personally, have won this prestigious award which is now even more prestigious because I have been honored as a recipient of it–and vice versa. First, I’d like to say that this moment is so much bigger than me. But not that much bigger. This moment is for me as a helpless baby, me as a mischievous toddler, me as a rambunctious boy, me as a sullen teenager, me as a mature adult, and me today as I stand here, in the moment of my supreme triumph. It’s also for all the people who stand behind me. My brilliant, well-compensated lawyer who helped me beat the rap on that bogus paternity suit. My talented, charismatic agent, who steered me away from stinkeroos like “Ford Fairlane” and “Waterworld” and helped me land the big-ticket roles which have made me the egregiously successful and well-known artist that I am today. My manager, who has been like a mother, father, big sister, little brother and Dutch Uncle to me. And most of all, this moment is about that insecure young adult who told me I had the guts and moxie and grit to make it to the top–namely, me. Bogie, Bacall, Olivier, Fellini, Hitchcock, Keaton and Michael J. Fox–I salute you. You have inspired me, as I am sure I would have inspired you, had you been lucky enough to have known and loved me. Now wait a minute–I know my speech is running long, but I’ve waited 45 years for this moment, so the least you could do is wait another 45 seconds for me! If you network vultures cut one microsecond out of this speech, I’ll murderize you! OK, OK, I’ll wind it down. I’d also like to thank God, the Pope, and most of all, my masseuse, Salvatore “The Rifleman” Bottiglia. Thank you. Jesus Saves, God is Great, Allah Akbar.

26.
THE META METAMORPHOSIS
1
One day a loathesome insect woke up in a crawlspace behind an
old-fashioned gas range located on the fourth floor of a slum
apartment and found himself transformed into a neurasthenic
Czechoslovakian Jew named Gregor Samsa.
2
Where do I want to go with with this? thought Gregor, whom some might
have mistaken for the narrator of this tale, though they would be
badly mistaken.
3
Certainly the single mother and her twelve-year old son who played
inadvertant host to the naked, German-speaking, and very confused
Gregor wanted no part of him.
4
It was the dead of winter, however, and he was stark naked, and the
mother did not have the heart to turn out the young and not unhandsome
stranger.
5
Consequently, she borrowed some gaudy cast-off clothing from the pimp
who lived downstairs.
6
This was a man for whom she sometimes turned freelance tricks when the
welfare check was late and the Johns were streaming into his domicile
too quickly for him to accomodate with his regular stable of foul,
albeit foxy, whores.
7
You would surely like to know what happened next, but Gregor, which is
not to say I myself, was having to make this up as he–or I–went
along.
8
In that way this story is very much like a memory that never occurred.
9
Let us assume that a man with the intelligence of a cockroach–because
he was, in fact, once a cockroach (or perhaps “dung beetle” is a more
appropriate approximation) was compelled at first to speak with a
strange gurgling sound.
10
Let us also assume, at least for the sake of story interest, that
Gregor eventually grew able to make sounds that vaguely, at least,
resembled human ones.
11
And now we introduce another character. The welfare worker.
12
She came around from time to time to check on the family, mother and son.
13
And on this occasion–conveniently, for the sake of our story–mere
hours after Gregor first revealed himself–she wanted to know what the
stange man was doing there anyway.
14
The mother was hard-pressed to give a satisfactory answer.
15.
The police were called and Gregor was taken to the local precinct
station. The kindly patrolman offered him coffee and a doughnut. The
taste of coffee was loathesome to him, though he eagerly devoured the
doughnut, for it was slightly stale.
16.
Because he was able to give no satisfactory account of himself, Gregor
was eventually confined in the county jail.
17.
Another character is now introduced–a psychiatrist.
18.
After three hours of questioning, the doctor of mind medicine was
unable to coax any identifying information from the prisoner, and so
about two weeks after Gregor Samsa first made his appearance, he was
confined to an institution for the mentally insane.
19.
There he was dosed with chlorpromazine hydrochloride and subjected to
electroshock. Thereafter, he languished for fifty years and,
eventually, died.
20.
It is not the grandson of the twelve year old boy of whom earlier we
spoke who is writing this story. Nor the mother. Certainly not the
pimp, or any of his whores, all of whom were barely literate at best.
21.
As for the psychiatrist–he drew up a few case notes regarding the
curious case of the amnesiac who was discovered in the cold-water
tenement dwelling of a incorrigible floozie.
22.
Upon his death, alas, those notes were destroyed.
23.
Therefore, by rights, this story should never have been written.
24.
This “Gregor Samsa” of whom we speak exists merely as a sort of
spectacle, fit only to be pointed at. Surely nobody with any sense
could find very much that is noteworthy about the tale of an admirable
beetle transformed into a useless man.
25.
More properly, this “Gregor Samsa” –is he not merely a memory that
never occurred? Yes. Therefore, let us conclude, then, with a quote by
the immortal Bard most appropriate to this circumstance.
26
“O God, O God, how weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable seem to me all
the uses of this world!”

27.
MINUTES OF MEETING BETWEEN MINION NUMBER ONE AND KLEON, SUPREME MASTER OF INFINITE SPACE AND TIME RE: VILLAIN SUPPLY ORDER

Minion number 1: Master, thanks to your minion Buzz Dixon, we have been alerted to a online vendor doing business as Villain Supply, LLC.

Kleon, Supreme Master of Infinite Space and Time: Haw haw haw! (cough!) Ex-cellent! Now I need never leave my sinister mountaintop fortress where I summon my lazy gorilla slaves with my electric bullwhip to obey my every evil whim! And…soon…the feeble governments of this puny globe…will be desTROYed–AND THE PLANET WILL BE MINE!!! A ha ha ha ho ho ho hee hee a huck hak kak hak….

Minion number 1: I thought perhaps you would like to place an order….

Kleon, Supreme Master of Infinite Space and Time: Fine, fine–but mind you, (Snort) the kickback commission you will be getting must go into MY coffers. YOUR reward will be….You will be allowed to live one day longer.

Minion number 1: Yes, master.

Kleon, Supreme Master of Infinite Space and Time: Let’s see… (wheeze) I want one Swiss Bank, one multi-level marketing scheme, one robotic Ayn Rand–no, better make that two–one Hitler clone, one freeze ray, one Henchman Zombification Device, 12 grams of anti-matter, one mobile missile launcher, one planet-buster, one sun-eater, and one God-killer.

Minion number 1: It says here they’re out of stock on the God-killer.

Kleon, Supreme Master of Infinite Space and Time: Fine, place the order anyway,  (koff!) but just wait until I get the planet-buster and the sun-eater–then they’ll be singing a different tune!

Minion number 1: Actually, according to this, Lord Satan just bought the God-killer.

Kleon, Supreme Master of Infinite Space and Time: Well, then, that’s alright–we’re going golfing at Burning Tree next Thursday, so I’ll just make him an offer…an offer he can’t refuse!!! Bwa ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!

Minion number 1: Heh heh. Er, Master, the total bill is, um, $6,217,277,275.11.

Kleon, Supreme Master of Infinite Space and Time: A prime number! An EXCELLENT omen indeed!

Minion number 1: Plus $115,067 shipping and handling.

Kleon, Supreme Master of Infinite Space and Time: WHAT!? The puny fools!!? Do they DARE insult me thus? Tell them (sniff)…tell them that for an order of that magnitude THEY can pay the shipping.

Minion number 1: Fine. No problem. They want to know how you’ll be paying.

Kleon, Supreme Master of Infinite Space and Time: Do they  (chuckle) take Euros?

Minion number 1: No, sorry, Master, just dollars, precious gems, stolen radioactive isotopes, Krugerrands…and Master Card.

Kleon, Supreme Master of Infinite Space and Time: Just put it on the card,  and mind you, get a receipt–I intend to deduct these items as a business expense! After that deal I pulled off in Florida the IRS would never dream of another audit! Bwa ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!

28.
THE STALIN WIT
Gratitude is a sickness suffered by dogs. (BA-DOOMP!)

If any foreign minister begins to defend to the death a “peace conference,” you can be sure his government has already placed its orders for new battleships and airplanes. (DING!)

In the Soviet army it takes more courage to retreat than advance. (KA CHING!)

It is enough that the people know there was an election. The people who cast the votes decide nothing. The people who count the votes decide everything. (DING!)

The death of one man is a tragedy. The death of millions is a statistic.(KA CHING!)

The Pope? How many divisions has he got?
(BA DA BOOM!)

Death solves all problems – no man, no problem. (BA-DOOMP!)

Gaiety is the most outstanding feature of the Soviet Union.
(RIOTOUS, NERVOUS APPLAUSE)

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THE INFORMATION #778 APRIL 4, 2014

THE INFORMATION
#778 APRIL 4, 2014
Copyright 2014 FRANCIS DIMENNO
http://dimenno.gather.com
francisdimenno@yahoo.com
https://dimenno.wordpress.com

WHEN THIS WORLD CATCHES FIRE
BOOK THREE: SAVAGE NOXTOWN
CHAPTER NINE: PART FOUR: THE MAYOR OF HELL

As Cadger Tandy and Doc Ketman sat at a table of the Seven Stars,
the Doc pointed at a nondescript middle-aged man who was busy
wiping down the bar early in the morning for the 10am opening time.
“The Word God; God Bless You. Žodžio dievas telaimina jus dievas! It would take
a top Dick from the A-1 Detective Agency to puzzle out the
story of Jack the Painter. Believe me when I say I do not understand
the Yellof. Note how he is got his gray hair tied in a rat-tail like a Chinee
or a Jack Tar just off the boat. Note how he never cracks a smile.”

He yelled across to  Jack: “Why so sad, Rubin?”  Jack grunted and said,
“I don’t care to go beyond any but the social niceties.” Then with a grunt he
resumed his work.

“Look at him–book-larnin’ dripping from his mouth, and him a dog’s body.
He looks allus like he was just turned away from the Garden of Eden.
And the Good Lord protect him from the creeping spasms. He treats his
job as the handyman hereabouts as if he was a cat toying with a
mouse.  Poor Jack the Painter! Who wouldn’t be sad? Cleaning up after
drunks. Trapped in the room the size of a Lion’s Den and smelling ten
times worse. What a waste of all his hopes and dreams! Did he fancy once
he would be a Doctor, or a Railroad Lawyer, or even a streetcar
conductor? You know, Yob, that no kiddo ever grows up and says I want
to be a stool-pigeon, or a librarian. Could it be that under cover he’s
the head of the Anarchy ring that’s been setting all them bombs on
Wall Street and the like? No–just to look at him you would doubt he had it
in him. Our dear Lord Jesus Christ had a great many biles and wounds.
And yet he never had them dressed. I guess his Pappy fought in the
Great War on behalf of the losing side and it left him bitter and
twisted inside–Sic Semper Tyrannis, the South Is Avenged, and like that.”

“Funny, I don’t have him pegged as an assassin either.
I think he’s just got a case of the yips. His wounds, they did not grow old,
they were not cut, nor were they ever found running.
You know, Yob, what becomes of a Yellof as has got the
melancholies? The Kid with the Saturnine Countenance? Everything,
even the simplest action, is so damn HARD and he does it so slow–like
mopping up the spew of the town weakfish–some Yellofs can’t hold
their drink a-tall. Jonas was blind, and I spoke to the heavenly child,
as true as five holy wounds were inflicted.”

“I guess that at one time he had a job as a master locksmith for
a big hardware concern. Heerd he was high up in the Masons, too.
But he fell on hard times due to a fondness for drink. Well, this is one place
where you never have to wear a clean white shirt with a starched collar.
Who knows but that maybe he has a great soul. But the world is not kind
to such critters. I dinna ken why. Or mebbe I do.”

“Here’s the problem, the way I see it. There comes a time when a
Yellof gets sick and tired of having to be responsible for every dirty
chore. It’s enough to make you lose your sense of purpose. You get a dreamy look
about you in the eyes, but the corners of your mouth are turned down
like you hate everything, even the Lord. ‘Specially the Lord. But man
has a divine spark which is imperishable. It cannot be extinguished; it
can only burn low. Like turning down the gas on a stovetop. Like I
always say, I Am the Great I Am. And I Am Forever. So you sleep for
most of the night and you  live in a nutshell and count yourself a
king of infinite space but you have bad dreams that leave you feeling
like a limp dishrag. Every morning you tumble from your lumpy mattress
and slog yourself to work. You take an eye-opener or three, just to
make yourself feel human. A tap-room is a good place or a drunkard to
make his crust. You won’t never go thirsty in a tavern. You could stay
good and drunk on the leftovers alone!”

“Žodžio dievas telaimina jus dievas! I’m no doctor–
not a real doctor–ner an Alienist–but working the
Medicine Show as long as I have, I know a neurasthenic when I see one.
What causes this? The grace of God and his benevolence be with thee.
I see in Jack the Painter hardly any vim at all,
save a mildly puzzled look which clouds his pan at all times of the
day and night. He shall now ride or walk out.
He looks like a Yellof who notices everything, from the
bluebird of happiness to the puke in the sawdust, and he treats one
much as the same as he would treat t’other. And
He will gird about his loins with a sure ring. Like an animal, with those
big black staring cow-eyes of his’n. So it pleases God, the Heavenly Father.
He looks at a problem from all sides and stands there with his
mouth open like an eager hog, but he’s so down in the dumps
that he never has the get up and go to actually do anything about it.
He will protect him, his flesh and blood.That’s why there’s been a
crack in the sunshine window over the bar since God was a Pup.
And all his arteries and during this day and night which he has before him.
Do you think that Jack the Painter would actually get up off’n his skinny
ass and fix the damn thing? And however numerous his enemies
may be, they must be struck dumb. It lets in the snow in the winter
and the bugs in the summer, and is an all-fired nuisance, though
I will admit that it provides us all with a much-needed gasp of fresh
air from time to time. And all become like a dead man, white as snow,
so that no one will be able to shout, cut or throw at him, or to overcome him.”

“Žodžio dievas telaimina jus dievas! Why would such a
man waste away his life in such a hellhole? He is
always there. It is his hospital, his church, and his graveyard. He
ain’t got no other home. Lives in a room off the back there. Free
watchman and bodyguard. If he ever leaves the place in the daytime the
sunshine must be blinding to him. When he closes his eyes before he
goes to bed he must see rainbows. Does he ever really sleep at all? Or
does he lie there in a half-daze? His rifle shall go off like lightning,
and his sword shall cut as a razor. We can’t all be kings, that much is
certain. But what of a man who might of been a great soul, if only
somebody had loved him? Look–here’s the skinny on Jack the Painter.
He is got the look of a penitent who is only guilty of having
too much in the way of feeling and is dying to feel nothing at all. He
feels empty inside by both day and night and a Niagra of booze would
only start to wash away that feeling. Then when our dear lady Mary
upon a very high mountain; she beheld her dear child standing
amidst the Jews, He is a man who lives in the desert.
His only oasis is mindless work. His only fun in life is
managing somehow to stumble his way through a mindless day. Having
established that he is master of the glooms, he attracts the gloom to
him and lives in a miasma of its stink. Harsh, very harsh. He uses
every trick he knows to make sure the job he has to do will
last him all the live long day. Not for him the decisive swipe of
the bar-rag! Because he was bound so harsh.
No–when called upon to do some cleaning he will boil towels and
scald himself red as a lobster to do the job up
brown, but all it gets him is the scornful stares of drunks who look
at him and say ‘Jesu Christu, Old Chappie–whatever happened to you?’
Because he was bound so hard. He spares practically no effort in
making an extra swell project of a job that’s
hardly worth the doing. A college perfesser couldn’t hardly be any
more circumspect. And for what? He has no belief in God. So it must be
that he does what he does because doing it is what he does. And
therefore may the dear Lord Jesus Christ save him from all that is
injurious to him. He struggles like a great beast awakening and
all so that he can smash rocks into pebbles and play with his marbles
in the dust.”

At that, Doc Ketman crossed himself three times and intoned the word “Amen.”

“Stop yer prayin’ over me!” shrieked Jack the Painter from over in the corner.

Doc Ketman ignored him.

“Satan Himself must of parceled him out resentment to react with anger in the wake of
the punishments of God. Jesus, he will arise. He hates his situation
because it can never change–he will toil like the man who must roll
his rock up a hill that never ends. Jesus, do thou accompany him. He has no sense that some things are poor and some things are mighty, for they are all the same to him
from where he stands, which is in quicksand. Quicksand!”

“Žodžio dievas telaimina jus dievas! So every day is like a
day in a dry hell in which he dies a thousand small
deaths. Jesus, do thou lock his heart into thine.
Small obstacles are like immense boulders in his path. He
constantly thinks, if he thinks at all, “If only”. Jesus let my body
and my soul be commended unto thee. No wonder he’s so full of
sadness! These are serious thoughts for serious times! He will never
surrender living behind his wall of fear.  He will defend his personal
prison to the last battlement. He will be irrationally unhappy in
preference to having no feelings at all, for these are his only two
settings. The Lord is crucified. It’s a terribly bleak existence–and
when you look at his sad face…May God guard his senses that evil
spirits may not overcome him…it’s just about enough to make your noggin sting.
In the name of God the Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost. Amen!”

1*SALUTATION
Milton Brown and His Musical Brownies
Garbage Man Blues
http://youtu.be/6CIILIMSoPs

2*REFERENCE
How Not To Kill Yourself With Household Items
http://digg.com/2014/ingestion-infographic

ALSO SEE:
MARCH MADNESS: THE TOURNAMENT OF UPPER-MIDDLE-CLASS AFFLICTIONS
https://medium.com/p/548435226ef

3*HUMOR
“Freeze!” I shouted. “Hand over the money and nobody gets hurt.”
Trouble is, I wasn’t in a bank. I was standing in the middle of the
street. And I was naked. Needless to say, I didn’t get the money.

SEE:
Jeffrey Fredericks and the Clamtones
I Love Robbin Banks
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l2UJ_irMJ_I

4*NOVELTY
TIME LAPSE: 1000 YEARS OF EUROPEAN HISTORY
https://transferwise.com/blog/2014-03/watch-as-1000-years-of-european-borders-change-timelapse-map/?utm_content=bufferc1adc&utm_medium=social&utm_source=twitter.com&utm_campaign=buffer

5*AVATAR OF THE ZEITGEIST
SUCCESSFUL WRITERS AND THE MENTALLY ILL
http://thoughtcatalog.com/cody-delistraty/2014/03/the-neurological-similarities-between-successful-writers-and-the-mentally-ill/

ALSO SEE:
18 Things Highly Creative People Do Differently
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/03/04/creativity-habits_n_4859769.html

6* DAILY UTILITY
AMERICA’S TEN MOST EXCITING MID-SIZED CITIES
http://www.movoto.com/blog/top-ten/exciting-mid-sized-cities/

7*CARTOON
COLE COMICS: THE PLAYBOY YEARS
http://colescomics.blogspot.com/2009/08/playboy-years-1954-58.html

8*PRESCRIPTION
How Facebook is Quite Possibly Becoming the Biggest Scam in Marketing
and Advertising Ever
http://www.forwardprogressives.com/facebook-quite-possibly-becoming-biggest-scam-marketing-advertising-ever/

9*RUMOR PATROL
THE 101 MOST INSANE THINGS THAT HAVE EVER HAPPENED IN FLORIDA
http://www.buzzfeed.com/mjs538/the-101-most-insane-things-that-have-ever-happened-in-florid

10* LAGNIAPPE
Uncle Dave Macon
Take Me Back to That Old Carolina Home
https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=7tFetm5mTQA

11* DEVIATIONS FROM THE PREPARED TEXT: A REVIEW OF OTHER MEDIA
THE SERENITY PRAYER
I hate the Serenity prayer! It makes me angry!

CONTROVERSIES IN POPULAR CULTURE.
736. DOWN THESE MEAN SAVANNAHS A CAVEMAN MUST GO
I
She was the kind of cavegirl that would make a Shaman think he had
just drunk a gourd full mushroom-flavored reindeer urine….
II
“Look at bright boy here. Thinks he just discovered the wheel. Listen,
bright boy. The Head Man don’t need nobody snooping in his business.
Stick to gathering nuts and berries and keep your nose out of the
tribal councils of the meat-eaters.”
III
“He conked me on the noggin with a wooden club. My skull was so thick
I hardly felt it. With the strength of rage I fended off three of the
bearskin-wearing bruisers, but they were joined by others and soon
their fists and clubs had knocked me to the floor of the cave, and
when I woke I was bound hand and foot by rawhide thongs.”
IIII
“No wonder he always responded to my questions about the killer with
grunts! He wasn’t being rude! That’s how he communicated–because he
had yet to develop the power of speech! But just before he died me
managed to lead me to a clue which tipped me off to the real killer.
It was a crude drawing of a man–a man wearing the hide of a wolf!
Only one man wore that kind of costume–The Shaman!”
IIIII
“…and I would have gotten away with my plan to poison the Head
Man…if it wasn’t for that knuckle-dragging shamus!”

THE INFORMATION #777 MARCH 28, 2014

THE INFORMATION
#777 MARCH 28, 2014
Copyright 2014 FRANCIS DIMENNO
http://dimenno.gather.com
francisdimenno@yahoo.com
https://dimenno.wordpress.com

I have always been delighted at the prospect of a new day, a fresh
try, one more start, with perhaps a bit of magic waiting somewhere
behind the morning.–J. B. Priestley

WHEN THIS WORLD CATCHES FIRE
BOOK THREE: SAVAGE NOXTOWN
CHAPTER NINE: PART THREE: THE MAYOR OF HELL

“I call down my blessings on Adam O’Day,” said Peter Ketman to Cadger
Tandy. “I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that he will call me from
the grave. Because Sonny Boy O’Day might someday serve us as a useful factotum. A Cat’s Paw. Yob, ye do ken what a Cat’s Paw is, do ye nae? A monkey
wanted to pull some chestnuts from the fire but they was too hot and
so he used the paw of a cat to grub them up. This is the kind of story
that leaves more questions than answers, I allus thought. What kind of
Yellof would leave a cat and a monkey in a room alone, unsupervised? A
room with a blazing fire, at that. That cat, once burned, wouldn’t
fall for that trick twice. And sure and the Monk, once scratched in
the dial face by the cat’s sharp diggers, wouldn’t try that kind of
cute stunt more than once. me fine Laddie Buck. Power, hero, Prince of
Peace, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus. Beneath thy guardianship I am safe against
all tempests and all enemies. Shock dough shay true gee in niche nigh
on Sam!”

“Speaking of Paws, there was Adam O’Day’s Paw. ‘Count’ O’Day. I call
down my blessings on him. I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that he
will call me from the grave. They called him ‘Count No Count.’ He was
the damndest scamp! A bald rascal! Shapen like unto a pear with his
fat droopy alderman. Always bragging about his big estate in Ireland, and
him a beggar dependent on beggerly barroom loafers for what few
friendly drinks would come his way. O could he talk a game! A
miserable sinner. he always guv me the scunner, but he would be just
as friendly a talker as could be, if only there was a drink to be had from it. You ever see a man who was actually penniless? Let me build you a picture. He had a
toothless mouth as looked like a set of railroad tracks with lips
split from being forever malnourished. He sometimes wore a red fez hat
with a frayed tassel. Now, Tipsy Smith kept a Free Lunch
as the bar–the food was heavy on the salt–pickled herring and the
like–but the toothless rogue could chaw nought. Tipsy Smith felt
sorry for him, and let him drink the leftover drinks as always got
poured in a metal bucket–more like a trough–as the evening waxed and
waned. Power, hero, Prince of Peace, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus. Shock dough
shay true gee in niche nigh on Sam!”

The one thing the old sinner was good for was to keep up a reel of
parumphing and a line of harumphing patter–the purest piffle–mere
bosh–with some learned tags he’d picked up from Lordie knows
where–all about “I would an I could” and “if it were to be done when
’tis done.” The old man would stand there on any given night and let
loose with a series of declarations as would cause a riot in any less
torporous establishment. Power, hero, Prince of Peace, Jesus, Jesus,
Jesus. Beneath thy guardianship I am safe against all tempests and all
enemies. Shock dough shay true gee in niche nigh on Sam!”

Count O’Day fancied himself a bit of a storyteller, but like a good
many Irishmen, he was just a sodden drunk who liked to mumble nonsense
in the presence of other drunks as was too rum dumb to know or care.
Here was a sample of some of his palaver:

“Ye may not know it to look at me but let me tell you duffers and
dingbats a little story. I knowed Big Nose Kate, Yass, when both she and
Doc conspired to rob the Arizona stage. And I learned: as the poet
says, never trust a Gila Monster in brave pursuit of honorable deed,
They’re not human. Humph! They’re not even animals!  Fierce wars and
sacred loves! Serpents rising out of the ground! You Can Have
Broadway. Have you ever been to St. Petersburg? I know for a fact that the
hotel service in St. Pete is lousy. Johnny the Garcon was a
coldhearted bastard but also just a bit back’ard. As the poet says,
judge ill of love that know not love. Lights in the sky. But ye ought
to see the Hermitage, Yob, if only to admire the splendors of the
rooms. Where late his treasure he entombed had. Since God was a pup. I
was a consultant in their renovation, incidentally. Pumph. Nothing
ain’t like what it was. Let Bygones Be Bygones And Let Us Be
Sweethearts Again. The wise man knows himself to be a fool. Back in
1880–not so long ago–I cried when Sherman said he wouldn’t run–they
still WOULD wave that bloody shirt–still had most of my
choppers then–they should of hung Jeff Davis from a sour apple
tree–Grant was a booby–that Stanford White, he got what he deserved. Love all, trust a few, do wrong to one. As the poet says. ‘Trial of the Century’ my ass!
Pumph. If Anybody Wants To Meet A Jonah Shake Hands With Me.”

Couldn’t no one hardly make sense of half of what he was raving about.
It was like reading a book by a man with only the most slender grasp
of how to tell a story. Another sample of his palaver:

“I knowed Harry Thaw. An arriviste of old. Would steal the silver from
a dead man’s eyes. Elbert Hubbard–what a charlatan. Message to Garcia
my ass! Know what Garcia said? No speaka dee English. That’s what HE
done said. Listen, I’m no tom-fool. I married my first wife when I was
25. But she got me in dutch with the Big Man, and look at me now.”

A short digression. The incident in question occurred when O’Day’s
first (and only) “wife” (it was a common-law relationship; she was a
prostitute) accused Cokey Stolas of “mauling” her, and even threatened
to “go to law”–until one day she mysteriously “disappeared.” When
asked about her, he would grow furious.

“Why would The Big Gee trifle with a doxy like her?  And is there care
in heaven? Ha-RUMPH! As the poet says, envy rode upon a ravenous wolf,
and hungry Wolves continually did howl at her abhorred face so filthy
and so foul.”

Then Count No Count would wax all sentimental, like.

“Humph! I say–all you loafers!  The Bee That Gets The Honey Doesn’t Hang Around The Hive. Would you set up a drink for your storyteller? Pumph.
I have here a tale which will break your heart. It seems as though
once upon a time there was a couple who lived in the woods–Humph! the
forest primeval, don’t you know–and they had a baby–more like a wolf–I mean
their dog, it was their dog who was more like a wolf–and there were
wolves a-plenty in those parts–they lived in the forest back in olden
times–they was Jewish folks I think maybe, or maybe not, maybe they
were Hungarians–Igen–Hunkies are just like people, only more
so–Humph! so I guess it was in the woods of Hungary–what did they
do there? How should I know? I’m betting they went hungry.
That’s my guess. Well, the old man was a woodcutter.
Name of Poor John. O, The Load That Father Carried. Or so the story
goes. The wife was a woodcutter’s wife. She was a jade.”

Big roar from the barroom loafers.

“But none of that’s important. Waltz Me Around Again Willie! Will you
let me tell the STORY?  By the way, there’s a place over by old Cathay where they
have jade statues of the Buddha the size of a three-story building.
Pumph. You could take a snot-sized piece from the beggar’s nose and be
a rich man for the rest of your borned days. Of course, the natives
are restless. Oh, and I would of done it too, but there was a temple
guard, and a nasty bugger he looked to be, grim as a knight in armor,
and dressed in an orange robe to color of a shriveled-up satsuma. Big
rings in his ears and for all I know he had a bone through his nose.
Is someone buyin’ a drink? Thank’ee, Sar. Had his arms folded crost
his chest like he would just as soon get you as spit. Big sword
hanging from his hip in a bamboo sheath. And I ups and says to him,
Won’t You Come Over To My House? Do ye think I can make these
things up? I says to him,  Let Bygones Be Bygones And Let Us
Be Sweethearts Again.  This ain’t no dream; I ain’t been hittin’ the
pipe, though I wouldn’t be back’ard none if one of yuh was to offer. Pumph. So this
woodcutter goes out one day and leaves the baby alone. Captain Baby
Bunting Of The Rocking Horse Brigade. Where’s his wife? Humph!
How in hell should I know? Panning for gold down by
Sutter’s Mill, for all I know. Hanging out with Calamity Jane in
Tombstone. Palling around with Hellcat Maggie down t’ the Five Points.
Lassie, Dinna Sigh For Me. Who knows what women do, and why
they do it? Every Day Is Ladies’ Day To Me. It often falls that mortal foes do turn to faithful friends, and friends professed are changed to foemen fell. When a woman takes a mind to cross ye up, there ain’t nobody knows how to do it better.
Ye’d think that if they was smart enough to know how to be boss, they
would do it, and make the men their slaves, and that ain’t so far from
the truth, for what they lack in strength they make up for in wiles. I
Never Saw Such Jealousy In My Life. Humph! The foolish woman left the
baby all alone with the slaverin’ hound and the two of them was in the room
alone together when all of a sudden the lorn sound of a bayin’ dog split
the air of the forest and the woodsman came racing home only to
discover–I disremember.”

Boos and hisses from the Barroom Loafers.

“Only, as it turns out, there was a big dogfight, and he shot the dog,
or the wolf, I guess, on one pretext of other. One dog, or the other,
or maybe both. He Walked Right In Turned Around And Walked Right Out
Again. And then he shot himself, maybe. What do ye mean, what kind of
guns did they even have in Transylvania, back in the olden days? How should
I know? Make yourself useful, Yob, and stand me another drink!
Confabulations make me thirsty! I’ve Said My Last Farewell.”

“Count O’Day had the real storyteller’s need for an audience, but like
I said, his stories made no sense–just sorta trailed off into
nowhere. He warn’t a pleasant feller. Was a holy terror unto his son,
and would just as soon stick a knife in yer back as not if he seed you
looking crosswise at him. And he’d laugh. Still, the enemy of my enemy
is my friend, and I call down my blessings on him. I know that my
Redeemer liveth, and that he will call me from the grave. The filthy
brute. The heavenly and holy trumpet blow every ball and misfortune
away from me. The foul fiend.  I seek refuge beneath the tree of life
which bears twelvefold fruits. The bald-headed rogue. I stand behind
the holy altar of the Christian Church. The fat lazy hod-carrier. I
commend myself to the Holy Trinity. The filthy wife-betrayer. I, Adam
Ketman, hide myself beneath the holy corpse of Jesus Christ. The
sneaking knife-man. I commend myself unto the wounds of Jesus Christ.
Mr. Jack Nasty. That the hand of no man might be able to seize me.
He’d grind his dukes right in your glims. Or to bind me. Bad man with
a pig sticker, too. Or to cut me. Proud Border Irish rogue. Or to throw me. He’ll leave ye a mouthful of broken choppers if ye dishonor him. Or to beat me. And he
would sell his own mother for a drink, that much is true. Or to
overcome me in any way whatever, so help me. Shock dough shay true gee
in niche nigh on Sam!”

1*SALUTATION
JAN & DEAN
TENNESSEE
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n-CaP7snr0g

ALSO SEE:
JAN & ARNIE
JENNIE LEE
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qq2XyiuarTw

SEE ALSO:
JAN & DEAN’S GOLDEN HITS VOLUME 3
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oJfTq02wOH4

2*REFERENCE
IMPENDING COLLAPSE OF INDUSTRIAL CIVILIZATION
http://www.theguardian.com/environment/earth-insight/2014/mar/14/nasa-civilisation-irreversible-collapse-study-scientists

ALSO SEE:
UNFORTUNATE PUBLISHING LAYOUTS
http://www.thepoke.co.uk/2013/04/26/unfortunate-publishing-layouts-of-our-time/

3*HUMOR
37 Slogans For College Majors If They Were Actually Honest
http://www.tickld.com/x/37-slogans-for-college-majors-if-they-were-actually-honest-

4*NOVELTY
8 pronunciation errors that made the English language what it is today
http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2014/mar/11/pronunciation-errors-english-language

5*AVATAR OF THE ZEITGEIST
WE AREN’T THE WORLD
http://www.psmag.com/magazines/magazine-feature-story-magazines/joe-henrich-weird-ultimatum-game-shaking-up-psychology-economics-53135/

ALSO SEE:
Americans Are the Weirdest People in the World: Here’s Why
http://disinfo.com/2014/03/americans-weirdest-people-world-heres/

6* DAILY UTILITY
UNITED STEAKS OF AMERICA
http://www.slate.com/articles/life/food/2014/03/united_steaks_of_america_map_if_each_state_could_have_only_one_meat_what.html

ALSO SEE:
STATE FOODS
http://www.slate.com/blogs/the_eye/2014/03/17/fun_and_beautiful_maps_of_the_world_made_from_signature_regional_foods_by.html

7*CARTOON
NIGHTMARE ALLEY PAGE 53
ILLUSTARTED BY SPAIN
http://www.comicartfans.com/GalleryPiece.asp?Piece=107731&GSub=15380

8*PRESCRIPTION
FISH CHOWDER
http://www.yankeemagazine.com/recipe/gloucester-old-salt-fish-chowder

9*RUMOR PATROL
DELAWARE TODDLER DAY CARE FIGHT CLUB
http://www.foxnews.com/us/2012/08/21/daycare-workers-accused-running-toddler-fight-club/

10* LAGNIAPPE
11 THINGS ALL FAILED KICKSTARTER PROJECTS DO WRONG
http://thecomicstarter.com/2014/03/15/11-things-all-failed-kickstarter-projects-do-wrong/

11* DEVIATIONS FROM THE PREPARED TEXT: A REVIEW OF OTHER MEDIA
THE DARK HISTORY OF GREEN FOOD ON ST. PATRICK’S DAY
http://www.npr.org/blogs/thesalt/2014/03/17/290259538/the-dark-history-of-green-food-on-st-patricks-day

CONTROVERSIES IN POPULAR CULTURE.
735. ANYTOWN BUSINESS DIRECTORY (PART TWO)
A Thousand Acres Resort & Sit “n” Bull Ranch
A-1 Detective Agency
Active Coffee Corp.
Adam’s Good Food House
Adam’s Ribs & Bar-B-Que
Agape Inc.
Al Dente’s Spaghetti House
Alive & Well, Inc.
All Around U Monuments
All Over But the Shouting, Inc.
Alpha Betty, Inc.
Also Ran Rental Cars.
America Love It or Leave It Corp.
American Alhambra
American Call & Response, Inc.
American Dish
American Excess, Unlimited
American Fascination Corp.
American Fat Cat Inc.
American Ideograms
American Resources
American Spasm
American Vision
American Waste
American Wound Mutual
Amusing Playthings Are We
Anadvertising Company
Anarchy, Inc.
Animal Farm Cat & Rat Ranch
Annexation & Secession, Ltd.
Anytown Electrical
Anytown Furnace
Anytown Lower Falls Hardware-Keys Made
Anytown Lower Falls Kitchen Supply
Anytown Lower Falls Stoves & Refrigerators
Anytown Museum
Anywho Inc.
Ape-Bent Luggage
Apolitical Barber Shop
Arcadia Police & Military Supplies
Arcadia Surveillance & Security
Armed Goons, Inc.
ART Exterminators
Astamagootis Car Dealers
Ataunto Attorneys-at-Law
“Auntie” Septic Plumbing
Authentic Five and Dime
Axa Inc.
B&R Tijuana Cuisine
B9 Carcinogen Corp.
Babylon Amusement Park
Backlog Enterprises
Badlands Liquor
Bakehead’s Gas Station
Barg Industries
Bark ‘n’ Purr Pet Grooming
Basic Four Food Groups
Battlefield Babysitting Service
Battlefield Child Care Center
Battlefield Gravestones
Bears Lumber
Beckerman Bakers
Beer “n” Skittles
Beergarden & Wineshop, Attorneys-at-Law
Best Minds of Our Generation, Ltd.
Big Deals, Inc.
Big House
Big Plans, Ltd.
Big Town Accountants
Big Town Asphalt
Big Town Baby Furniture
Big Town Builders & Wreckers
Big Town Cab
Big Town Driving Instruction
Big Town Sperm Bank
Blam’s Guns
Bonanza Big Boy and Fat Man Shop
Boomtown Barons
Boulevard Inn
Boundaries, Unlimited
Box-Mao Corrugated Cardboard Products
Boys Will Be Boys Co.
Brain Implants, Inc.
Brains R Us Consulting
Brand Plaza Air Conditioning
Brand Plaza Formal Wear
Brand Plaza Laundrodome
Brand Plaza Rug & Carpet
Brand Plaza T-Shirts & Tie-Dye
Brand Plaza Uniform
Bridge of Sighs Funeral Home
Brimstone Building
Bubble Reputation Publicity
Bugsy’s Beanery
Candles & Sandals
Candy Cake and Ice Cream, Inc.
Cannery Marble & Granite
Cannonsmouth Security
Carbox Shipping
Card’s Department Store
Central Depot Bricklayers
Central Depot Copy & Mimeo
Central Depot Cosmetics
Central Depot Craft and Hobby Supplies
Central Depot Labs
Certified Inc.
Champagne Eyes Beauty Products
Cheapwine Import Co.
Chez Swank
Chow Down Imports
Christmas Avenue
Chrono-Synclastic Infundibulum Investment Group
Chu Chulain Enterprises
Civilian Conversation Camp
Cliched Verses Greeting Card Corp.
Club Matinee
Clumsy Lumberman Inc.
Co-Existence Bagel Shop
Coffee Coffin Copy Co.
Coffee Pot Building
Come Inn
Compulsive Optimism, Corp.
Consolidated Blarney
Consolidated Phosphorus
Consolidated Tin
Conspiracy Enterprises
Consumer Fools International
Continental Excess
Continental Manors
Continental Om
Cooperative Fire
Corporate Propriety Investigative Services
Corpuscles, Inc.
Corrupt Power
Cottage Industries International
Crazy Joe’s Tap
Cretin Greeting Company
Crooked Cigar Co.
Cross Country Alarms
Cross Country Charters
Cross Country Fur
Cross Country Party Supplies
Crowsfeet Inc.
Cruel Bakers
Cursed Earth Products
Curveefemale Holding Company
Darkness Blankets
Decalogue Inc.
Deeplum Pastries
Delilah’s Deli
Demonsthenes Gas and Electric
Derry Derry & Down, Inc.
Designed Casket Company
Destructive Lifestyles Counseling Agency
Diamond in the Rough Associates
Dicipline Spray Company
Dirtie Mutual Inc.
Dirty Rotten Shame, Attorneys at law
Disaster Fire & Casualty
“Dishonest” John’s New & Used Cars
Diurnal Occurrences
Dna Hill Liquor
Doggie in the Window Purchase Agency
Donderbeck’s Butcher Shop
Dr. Bowdark, M.D.
Dr. Crocus, M.D.
Dr. Stickenstone, Chiropodist
Drop’s Café
E.Z. Wolf Loans
Eastern Status Corp.
Eastridge Wood
Eden Prairie Feed Supply
Eden Prairie Home Heating
Eden Prairie Lawn & Landscaping
Eden Prairie Tow
Eden Prairie Trailers
Edenic Corp.
Eh Bien French Caterers
Eight Miles High, Ltd.
Einstein Place, Where the Smart People Live
El Cubano
Electric Ladyland Amusement Arcade
Elfin Wang Enterprises
Elvis Presley Costumes and Accessories
Embolism Films
Engineered Consent Company
Engle’s Ice Cream
Enough Rope Company
Erotica Autos
Esquisite Manors
Everything Electrical Electrical Appliance Repair Shop
Extended Metaphor Productions
Eye of Amogotto Occult Book Store
Eyestone’s Drug Store
Factwino Products
False Alarms, Inc.
Farmer-Indell Investment Corp.
Fashion Land Colostomy, Urotomy & Neostomy Supplies
Favorable Business Climate Co.
Feist’s Cigar Store
Fiddle Funeral Parlor
Fifth Column Activities Company
Fire Is Coming Casualty and Life
Flattery, Flummery & Frippery, Attorneys-at-Law
Flibberty Gibbets
Fly By Nite Travel Agency
Foreign Refugees Temp.Co.
Fortune & Menzies, Inc.
Forward Progress Group
Frank & Forthwright Co.
Freude, Schoener, Gotterfunken Attorneys-at-Law
Friends of the Family Entertainment Co.
Fritz Machinery
Fruits & Vegetables
Fuller Fertilizer
Fun N Games Amusement Arcade
Futuropolis Zoo
Gabble Bar & Grille
Gainworld Losesoul Co.
Gateway to the West Hardware Store
Gaudeamus Igitur Inc.
Gaudy Baubles Jewelry Manufacturers
Gayfeather Candies
General Major
George Donner’s The Great Outdoors Store
Geronimo Cadillac
Get-A-Job
Getgo International
Give Us This Day Our Daily Bread Bakers
Gleason’s Corner Bar & Grill
Gleason’s Corner Passport Photo
Gleason’s Corner Towel
Glorious Eagle Recreational Vehicles
Gobble n Go
God Don’t Make Trash, Inc.
Godpup
Gold Diggers Group
Golden Café
Golden Rain Foundation of Leisure Hills
Gratuitous Novelties Inc.
Great American Eastern Central Pacific Investments
Great Financial Center Inc.
Great Fire
Great National Disaster Re
Great Northern Accusative Corp.
Grief & Lamentation Worldwide
Hal Jordan’s Toy Store & Hobby Shop
Halo Investigation
Hard Workers Temp Agency
Hardliver’s Haberdashery
Harry’s Haberdashery
Heap Guns & Ammo
Heart Dog Have Spayed Inc.
Heigh, Muckety & Muck, Attorneys-at-Law
Hellgrammite Lures
Herkimer Jerkimer’s Eat Shoppe
Herod’s Salami
Hi-Fi Tweeter’s Pizzaria
High Street Wire
Highway Bowl
Hinter-Aufen Storage
Hinterland Travel Service
Hire-A-Wino
Hisididdy Corp.
Hochmal, Inc.
Hold On To Your Dream Co.
Homerdrome Sports Arena
Honest Injun Co.
How Exciting, Inc.
Huggable Motorcycles
Human Nature Corp.
Humility, Inc.
Hunger Hurts Inc.
Hurrah’s
Hussey’s Ladies Wear
I & I Chemicals and Pharmaceuticals
I Am A Man Enterprises
I Am Now Home
I An Reliable Inc.
I’m In Love Co.
Idiom Corp
Ill Toil Facilities Admin.
Important Messages
Inevitable Casualty and Surety
Ingen’s Liquors
Inland Boats
Intercontinental Mudge
International Chimp
International Feel Pharmaceuticals
International Poltroons, Inc.
International Protozoons
International Surple
International Wafers
It’s Free Corp.
It’s Only Money Co.
Ivy, Attorney-at-Law
Izzy & Moe’s Gin Mill
J. Crow, Realtor
Jeer-Don Industries
Jiver Home Mortgages
Jivetown Carpenters
Jivetown Counselors
Jivetown Detailers
Jivetown Jokes & Novelties
Jivetown Manicure & Pedicure
Jivetown Martial Arts
Jivetown Rental
Jivetown Wash & Dry
Johnnie Bizarros Auto Parts and Supplies
Johnny-On-the-Spot Temps
Joy Distributors
Judeoxian Ethic Co.
Katush’s Grocery
Killyhawk Pharmacy
Kilroy Industries
King’s Plaza Camera and Photo
King’s Plaza Music
Kingshorse Kingsman Inc.
Knob Hill Athenaeum
Knob Hill Film
Knob Hill Golf Club
Knob Hill Nursing Associates
Knob Hill Observatory
Knob Hill Reiki
Knob Hill Solar
Knob Hill Tea
Know All Corp.
Korner Luncheonette
Ky-Wah’s Jewelry Store
Lakeside Steam
Lakeside Water
Land of 1000 Dames Girlie and Burlesk
Land of a Thousand Dances
Landcover Mortuary
Leaning Tower of Pizza
Leatherroot’s Barber Shop
Lenny & George Travel Agency
Let Er Ring Printers
Life in These United States Co.
Lights Out Inc.
Limerick Mills
Liquid Gas Consolidated
Liquid Gold Corp.
Lister Dental Associates
Live and Let Litho
Lonely Financial
Loose Lips Salvage Co.
Love A Rich Man, Inc.
Love or Money Enterprises
Love Train Trainsportation
Lovechild Industries
Luetgert’s Gourmet Foods
Lyne-O-Type Press
Mad River Pharmaceuticals
Magnificent Obsession Ltd.
Maiden Arms
Main Line
Majestic Pest Control
Mama Corleone’s
Manchmal Corp.
Manes R Us Hair Parlor
Mangrove Homes
Manual Labor Corp.
Master Builders, Inc.
Material Comfort Industries
Material Giant, Inc.
Mauger’s Variety Store
Mayfair-in-The Grove Chimney
Mayfair-in-The Grove Health Spa & Figure Salon
Mayfair-in-The Grove Tours
Mayfair-in-The Grove Video Rental
Mayfair-in-The Grove Yoga
Meaningless Pest Control
Melvin Mole’s Comic Books and Collectibles
Merrimekko Tablecloth Corp.
Metaphor, Simile, Metonymy & Synechtode, Inc.
Midas Building
Mid-Continent Bathroom Supplies
Midnite Munchies 24 Hour Store
Mighty ocean Shipping & Hauling
Mini Midi Micro Fashions
Mini Mutt Inc.
Mini Warehouse
Misericordiae Corp.
Mission Liquor
Moloch Management
Money Talks Coins & Stamps
Moot Point Enterprises
Mountaineer Cigar & Humidor
Mountaineer Lamps
Mountaineer Tool
Movers & Wreckers
Mr. Fish Man
Mr. Fixit’s Auro Repair
Musical Chairs
National Giant, Inc.
National Jockey Boys Benevolent Fraternal Society
Natural Predators, Inc.
Nebbynose Telephone Company
Neptune Investments
New Ideas Industries
New River Trains
New Wrinkle Beauty Parlor
Newground Apartments
No Count Corp.
No TV Encounter Group
Northland Blood Bank
Northland Construction
Northland Ice
Northland Snow Blowers & Snowmobiles
Norwegian Frieght Co.
Note’s Furniture
Notell Motel
Nothing To Lose Lotteries
Novelty Costume Shop, Gorilla Suits Our Specialty
Number’s Drug Store
Oak Hill Nursing Home
Oilbean Estates
Old Edwardian Exiles
Old MacDonald Pharmaceuticals
Old Pros Corp.
Old-Curmudgeon Associates
Olde Mystick Village Computers
Olde Mystick Village Elevator
Olde Mystick Village Medical & Nursing Supply
Olde Mystick Village Tubing
Oldhook Mattresses and Bedding
Oldtown Watch Repair
Open My Eyes, Co.
Oranges and Apples
Ourpsycle, Inc.
Owl Laundering
Own Your Own Home Building and Loan
Pa Kent’s General Store
Pacific Weather Co.
Packer-Lise Attorneys at Law
Paid for Loafing Corp.
Paintin’ Place
Paper Tiger Manufacturing Co.
Parliament of Fowles, Ltd.
Pay King
Penny For Your Thoughts Co.
Philadelphia Freedom, Inc.
Philadelphia Lawyers
Philboyd Studge Products
Picacho’s Dollar Store
Pig ‘n’ Patio
Piggen’s Rib Joint
Pith, Brevity, Terse, Sullivan & Laconic, Attorneys-at-Law
Pitiful Helpless Giant Ltd.
Plot to Put Communism In Our Schools Defense League
Poison Cookie Chop & Broken Pie Bakery
Poisson-Dart, Attorney-at-Law
Poky Little Puppy Enterprises
Ponderosa Cleaners
Ponderosa Discount
Ponderosa Oxygen
Posh Gambling Den
Prattle Magazine
Pre Pro Co.
Pro & Con Corp.
Project Liquor
Promises Promises DBA More Promises
Puritan Shame Corp.
Pursuit of Happiness Haberdashery
Queen’s Center Sewer and Sewage
Question of Balance, Ltd.
Quicker Liquor
Quickweed Architects
Quid Pro Co.
Quieten’s Bookstore
Racke & Ruin Re
Radlib Conspiracy Group
Rage Warehouse Ire Proof
Railroad, Creek, Rock & Hardplace, Attorneys-at-Law
Rainbow All-Natural Health Foods
Rainbow Cuspidors
Rainbow Elder Care
Rainbow Floor
Rainbow Fumigators
Rainbow Massage
Rainbow Palmistry, Astrology & Fortunes
Rainbow Skydiving
Rainbow Talent Brokers
Random Violence Marketing & Research
Rather’s 24 Hour Veterinary Clinic
Raw Youth Movement Rally Enterprises, Inc.
Reach For A Star Talent Agency
Real Men, Inc.
Reality Realtors
Red & Grey, Notary Public
Red Carpet Lounge
Redlamp Credit
Redlamp Laundromat
Redshaw Dairy
Remains Stationary
Rollerball Skate Rental
Rose’s Tattoos
Rough & Tumble, Inc.
Rovina Wrent-A-Wreck
Rude Coffee
Rudolph Rassendale’s Lumber Yard & Saw Mill
Samizdat 24-Hour Dry Clean
Sandadder & Son, Oculist
Scapegoat, Unlimited
Scoff & Gripe, Attorneys-at-Law
Seeya Later Alligator Rent-To-Own
Selfish-Pride Realtors
Sensual Products
Serves You Right Corp.
Set the World On Fire Planning Group
Sgt. Pepperoni’s Pizza
Shadetree Mechanics
Shanty Street Gas
Shave and A Haircut Barber Shop
Shiva Arms
Shynie, Serge, Bluesuit & Ty, Attorneys at Law
Silver Apples of the Moon Manufacturing Company
Skidmore Temps
Skylark Club
Smart-Dumm Real Estate
Smug Harbor Boats
Smug Harbor Diesel
Smug Harbor Fish
Smug Harbor Marine Supply
Smug Harbor Scrap & Salvage
Smug Harbor Skindiving
So Help Me, Ltd.
Socialist Advertising Agency
Socialist Threat, Inc.
Softly Wispering I Love You Elms Development Corp.
Solid Food Co.
South Street Seaport Bait & Tackle
Southdale Pipe
Southside Plate, Window & Automotive Glass
Spice of Life Indian Cuisine
Spiritual Satisfaction, Unltd.
Spoof, Inc.
Square’s Bar
Squeaky Wheel Grease Company
State of Health Industries
Strom & Brainstorm Advertising Agency
Subjunctive Preservation Building and Loan
Super Dream Pill Inc.
Supreme Being Enterprises
Survival Law
Suspicious Minds Merchandising Ltd.
Tabby Employment Agency
Taste O’ Honey
Tayken-Runn Co.
Terrorism Unlimited
Thank You Products
That’s Different, Corp.
The Anschluss Corporation
The Bartleby Group
The Beach Ball Club
The Big Store
The Bisons
The Commodore Nutt Lounge
The Communist Block Accessories and Fashions
The Daily Chronicker
The DBA Corp.
The Eight Ball Café
The Elks
The Fashion Plate
The Firefly Tavern
The General Tom Thumb Hotel
The Golden Horn
The Good Old Days, Unlimited
The Grange
The Invalid Company
The Jumping-Off Place
The Madison Club
The Mercantile Building
The Moose
The National Probity Group
The Nazarene Group
The Oddfellows
The Old School Tie Association
The Old Temperance Hotel
The Order of Literary Patriotic Harmonious Fists
The Patricians
The Plunder Group
The Pompous Group
The Pop Shop
The Potlatch Group
The Property Theft Group
The Restful Café
The Snak Shak
The South Will Rise Again, Inc.
The Sports Haven
The Stonewall Company
The Worlds Best Gifts
The Worryline Corp.
Thirsty Acres
Thirsty Giant Promotions
Thousand Shadows Co.
Thwartsaw Associates
Timber’s Stationary
Time Is A Miser Investments
Time Zone
Tip Inn
Tomaka Hoar Receipts, Ltd.
Toomuch, Beer & Wein Enterprises
Top Mind
Torpedo Sub Shop
Touch ‘n’ Go Corporation
Townville Roofing
Transport Connections Unlimited
Treasure Island Antiques
Treasure Island Designers
Treasure Island News
Tremendous Opportunities Inc.
Trust Busters
Tubby’s Trough
Twelve Keys to the Kingdom Religious Supplies
Uncle Elby’s General Store
Uncle William’s Useless Things
Undeclared Candidate Consulting
Underlying Catastrophe Savings and Loan
Underwater Moonlight Corporation
Unique Uniforms
United Pathogens DBA Prosperity Health Farms
Unknown Fidelity, Co.
Unwilling Co.
Urbandale Harbor Pools & Pumps
Usher’s Spring and Fall Fashions
Vent Appliance
Verdegrise Realtors
Ware-Wolfe Group
Water Water Everywhere Home Repairs
Way of the World International
Wazooville Slaughterhouse
We All Fall Down Co.
We Sell Soul, Inc.
We’ll See Investments
Wedded Bliss Bridal Shop
Welkin’s Floral Shop
Westgate Tire
What Profiteth It A Man, Inc.
Whatnow Corp.
Whether Or Not Co.
Whiffler Stationary
White Colored Inc.
Whocan Co.
Whynot Inc.
Wise Guys Travel Agency
Wishing Tree Industries
WKCX Radio
Word Butchers
Workaday World Enterprises
World Dilemma
World Without End Amen, Inc.
WOW Dry Cleaner and Cold Storage
Wretched Excess, Inc.
Wurra-Wurra Imports
Xaroshie’s Beauty Parlor
Xavier Tree Removal
XXX Moviehouse
Yarrowstalk Funeral Home
Yawl’s Pet Store
Young Man Enterprises
Young Men’s Club
YourCorp Industries
Zanjero’s Trucks and Hauling
Zomack’s Five Cent Cigar Store

THE INFORMATION #776 MARCH 21, 2014

THE INFORMATION
#776 MARCH 21, 2014
Copyright 2014 FRANCIS DIMENNO
https://dimenno.wordpress.com

There are charms made only for distant admiration.–Samuel Johnson

WHEN THIS WORLD CATCHES FIRE
BOOK THREE: SAVAGE NOXTOWN
CHAPTER NINE: PART TWO: THE MAYOR OF HELL

“You’ve been hiding something from me, my little Yob.” said Peter Ketman to Cadger Tandy. “And you know what they say. ‘Unruly boys ought to be whipped.’ That’s the Rule of Saint Benedict.”

The two of them–the man of forty and the twelve year old–were seated in the Seven Stars Tavern, which was characteristically quiet, it being 11am on a Thursday, and the customary loochers and the well-known blowers and guzzlers were not yet awake. The Tavern was a small room, ill-lit, and smelling of stale smoke and bitter hops and musty sawdust. Dust motes danced in the air–illuminated by sporadic sunlight which fought its way through the grime-streaked upper windows of the basement establishment

“I told ye I dinna want that ye should meddle with the charmed world, but I see ye be in a bad way with Smash Conklin, and that it will consume ye unless something be done. Now first we must call down blessings upon the place wherein we perform our charms. And not to horse around Yob, but I needs must call down my most powerful spell in the place where it will do the most good, which is why we be seated here, though if Red Mary found us out she would surely plant her sharp diggers in my dial face and paint it with streaks of blood red.”

“Latcho Drom! I call down my blessings upon this place. On behalf of what amulet do I call down blessings? Crux Sacra Sit Mihi Lux.  Impart your blessings upon all vessels in this place, by the power of the most ancient glass loving cup, the vessel of vessels, the holy Grail. It is the Grail that I say and the Grail that I invoke. An ancient glass loving cup in a glass beer mug? How can such a thing be? By the power of Benedict I do declare that the renowned glass drinking vessel stands in its invisible place of honor behind the oaken bar! How can such a thing be? By the power of St. Benedict who will foil all lushmen who also covet great power. How can such a thing be? It must be so, for it is by the power of St. Benedict–who will foil all armed lush-rollers on the far-off dockside where they roam and steel blades flash and lushes are so rolled. A dozen young blades with knives like gleaming teeth may send vagrant refractions of efflorescing light off into the dusty moonlight which permeates the vast depths of those quayside moorings, where men in shabby clothes are busy anent their pilferings. But to no avail. For, wait! Impart your blessings unto all vessels in this place and may the ancient glass loving cup take real shape  anent the stench of this hellhole–a stench which verily would gag a maggot. How can such a thing be? It must be so, for the power of St. Benedict and the cross shall make it so. Latcho Drom!”

Peter Ketman’s eyes were rolling in his head by now, and a faint froth appeared around his lips. It took him several minutes to regain his composure; once he did, he stroked his thin red whiskers and spake to Cadger Tandy as follows, in a deep voice with occasional high inflections provided for emphasis.

“Before you go to looking after the bad uns, you is got to have a handle on who is going to help you, and call down blessings on your friends–or the folks as will leastways be your allies. Specially if ye intend to go up agin The King Devil of Hell. Mr. Monster his own self, Non Draco Sit Mihi Dux, who is got us all in the grip of his terror and who plays with us like a squeeze toy. He tosses us like a medicine ball. He scourges us like angry dog worries a bone. I speak of Mr. Cokey–S is Sam, T is Tom, O is Orville, L is Louis, A is Andrew, S is Satan. He Who Must Be Obeyed. Whose Name Ye Mought Not Mention. The Well-Upholstered Behemoth. Well, Yob, agin a man like that–man? some call him Devil–some call him Ape–agin a man like that it canna hurt to have sometimes a gang of seemingly low-down loochers as has eyes that see and ears that hear into places where you can’t allus be. Vade Retro Satana, Nunquam Suade Mihi Vana – Sunt Mala Quae Libas, Ipse Venena Bibas!”

Ketman then took out a brass medal and stroked it.

“Oh Laddie Buck,” said Doc Ketman, weaving back and forth, “ye dinna ken what vengeance and fury resides in the heart of The Almighty. Cross Him up and your sins will find you out. His love, which is the sweetest of nectars, must logically be equally matched by His awful wrath most furious and terrible.  Sometimes, you will be tempted by the evil one–Vade Retro Satana– But be Ware–the Infinite God does not do false. Nunquam Suade Mihi Vana. God is Great and makes his presence known. Sunt Mala Quae Libas. Quite commonly you will see a Sign. And that sign will come at the exact point that you decide there is no God. But nkow ye well that unbelief is evil. There is no percentage in unbelief. Ipse Venena Bibas.”

“Take, for instance, the squint-faced fatty-faced  Mr. Adam O’Day. Latcho Drom! With his black and yeller teeth you might expect to be able to set down and play ragtime on his choppers like a red-lamp whorehouse piano. I call down my blessings on him. Latcho Drom! The grace of God and his benevolence be with thee. Him as is allus cracking wise, always laughing, always finishing your drink before you have a chance to drain it yourself, then profusely apologizing, then offering to buy ye another, then never following through. I should snicker myself. Latcho Drom! Trotter Head, I forbid thee my house and premises.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Yob. Mr. Adam O’Day, he meaneth well. Meaneth well…in the way that the road to Hades is paved with good intentions. Latcho Drom! Gambles his pay as he doesn’t drink up on things like stray dog fights and cockroach races. Trotter Head, I forbid thee my horse and cow-stable. Him, with his imbecilic spit curl and slicked-down black hair as black as pitch, as black as the grinning heart of a whore, as black as melted midnight, as black as a dead end alley full of black cats, as black as the Mayor of Hell’s black riding boots. Trotter Head, I forbid thee my bedstead. A grinning enigma is Adam O’Day. Not so stupid as he looks, though maybe even stupider, what with his red nose and his black and lonesome eyes, as lonesome as a single baby tooth, as lonesome as Santa Claus on December 26th, as lonesome as an icicle in July. Latcho Drom!”

He closed his eyes and incanted.

“Ipse Venena Bibas. Poor Adam O’Day. Small wonder that he was allus seeing something funny, the way he was raised by his Pappy.  Trotter Head, I forbid thee that thou mayest not breathe upon me. The Pappy was allus belittlin’ him, tellin’ him he warn’t much, that he was Count No Count, that he allus done things the hard way because he was hard headed like his sainted mother as had died in childbirth and why couldn’t he be more like his older sister who didn’t take no guff.  Trotter Head, breathe into some other house. When things was going great for him, he would allus do something that would end up by causing himself more pain and heartache. If he was flush, it was drinks all around. If he was low, he was too proud to ask his friends for as much as a nickel. Allus laughing, sure, but I think that secretly he’s as sour and as bitter as a rotten tangerine.  Trotter Head, begone, until thou hast ascended every hill. He was in a bit of a pickle, all right. He had friends, but none of them would do him no favors. Trotter Head, begone, until thou hast counted every fence-post. Allus laughin laughin laughin–he dressed in swell rags and was allus jolly him, though from time to time he lost his temper and began fighting crockery like an angry gorilla. Trotter Head, begone, until thou hast crossed every water. Latcho Drom! Angels approach him as they done Saint Sarah in her dream when she was old and barren, saying she would give birth to Isaac, whose name means laughter. Bring thou light unto this barren soul. And thus dear day may come again into my house, in the name of God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Latcho Drom! Amen!”

Ketman then slid off his chair and fell flat on his back straight onto the dirty floor, and he fought back with a peculiar grim madness when Cadger Tandy essayed to help him up. “All part of the spell,” he hissed through broken teeth. “All part of the spell. Dinna meddle–unruly boy. LATCHO DROM!”

1*SALUTATION

ABDULLAH IBRAHIM
ANCIENT AFRICA
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=glCR2fR8YSI
ALSO SEE:
2*REFERENCE
Elephants Know How Dangerous We Are From How We Speak
http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2014/03/140310-elephants-amboseli-national-park-kenya-maasai-kamba-lions-science/

3*HUMOR
40 Worst Book Covers and Titles Ever
http://www.boredpanda.com/funny-book-titles-covers/

4*NOVELTY

A DICTIONARY OF SIMILES
http://www.bartleby.com/161/
7*CARTOON
8*PRESCRIPTION
9*RUMOR PATROL
IF ALL THE ICE MELTED
http://ngm.nationalgeographic.com/2013/09/rising-seas/if-ice-melted-map

10* LAGNIAPPE
2,3

11* DEVIATIONS FROM THE PREPARED TEXT: A REVIEW OF OTHER MEDIA
ON WRITING FOR POSTERITY
Everything ever written could be interpreted as an annotated suicide note.

CONTROVERSIES IN POPULAR CULTURE.

735. ANYTOWN BUSINESS DIRECTORY (PART ONE)
Aardvark Body Rub
Abner’s Mattresses
Alibi Bar
Alice’s Restaurant
Amusement Arcade
Anarchy Club
Ants in My Plants
Anytown Chamber of Commerce—“Since 1973!”
Anytown Public Library
Apple Mary’s Fruit Stand
Aragon Ballroom
Atlas Spa
Authentic Wild West Ranch
Automat—Sandwiches Sliced Before Your Eyes
Awareness Club
Baba Bam Bam
Babylon Dance Hall
Bargain Basement
Beckerman Bakers
Beehive Industries
Beer Street
Beggar’s Bush
Benedictine Monastary
Bigtown Big Boy’s and Fat Man’s Shoppe
Billygoat Tavern
Biograph Theatre
Black Cat Saloon
Black Kat Lounge
Blacklight Posters
Blind Ale House
Bluelaw’s Tavern
Boilermaker’s
Broadway Deli
Brotherhood of Eternal Love
Brown Derby
Burnam’s Museum
Café Trocodero
Carter Reagan Insurance
Celeste’s
Champagne Eyes Beauty Products
Ching Chaw’s Corner Newsstand
Chop Chop’s Chinese Eats
Christadelphians
Church of Abu Simbel
Church of I Am
Church of Original Sin
Church of Saint Mary Ovary
Church of the Avatar
Church of the Fundamentals
Church of the Good Mormons
Church of the Lower Case jesus christ
City of Champs Sporting Goods
Cliffdweller Arms
Clubland
Coconut Grove
Commerce Building
Communist Bookstore
Condom King
Conservatory of Music
Convention Hall
Country Day Boy’s Academy
Country Road Tap
Crockett’s
Della-X Underground Nitro Factory and Gravel Pit
Deserted Warehouse Flea Market
Dillinger’s Gas Station
Discodrome
Dizzy’s
Donderbeck’s Butcher Shop
Drunky’s
Dun Roman Apartments
Eight Ball Cafe
Eightysix Club
Elmhurst Girl’s Academy
Essen’s Supermarket and Superette
Exclusive Nightclub
Factory Outlet Used Factories
Father Coughlin’s Shrine of the Little Flower
First National Co-Operative
Fisherman’s Paradise
Franciscan Convent
Freshair Taxi
Fun N Games Amusement Arcade
Funkytown
Gaiety Burlesk
Genuine Liquors
Gin Lane
Gobble n Go
Gooch’s Finishing School
Good Girl’s Clothing
Goofy’s Joke Shop
Grab N Growl
Grape City Beer Distributors
Grime Alley Beer Garden
Guru Dev Chitra-Bhanu
Guru Maharajah
Gypsy Rose’s Tearoom
Handbags and Gladrags
Having a Wonderful Wine
Head Shop
Health Brat
Heartbreak Hotel
Herring Pond Seafood
His Holy Name Cathedral
Hotel Morovache
House O Good Eats
Iceberg Slim’s
IWW Bar & Grill
Jack and Charlie’s 21 Club
John Hollowlegs’s
Johnson’s Tailor Shop
Joke N Smoke Shop
Jolly Roger’s Tap
Junky’s Arcade
Kew-Liga Tobacconist
Khrushchev’s Shoe Store
Kiddy Litter
Kip’s Flophouse
Lawn Order Garden Supplies
Lazytown Café
Liquor, Inc.
Little Brown Church in the Vale
Little Friendly Eating Place
Lonesome Cowpoke Western Wear
Luetgert’s Gourmet Foods
Madame Fatal’s Private Men’s Club
Magnolia Jungle
Main Street Armory
Man’s World
Manpicker Day Labor
Marine Surplus
Maw Green’s Boarding House
Mercury Office Products
Mickey Finn’s New Deal Bar & Grill
Midvale Orphanage
Mike Fink’s
Milk Bar
Mistelbach’s 24 Hour Store–Lottery Tickets
Molotov’s Cocktail Lounge
Monte Cavallo’s Italian Restarant
Moon June Palace
Moravian Brotherhood
Mr. Fixit’s Auto Repair
Mulligan’s Grub
Murder Castle
Must & Roth Furriers
My Place Bar and Grill
Naked Lunch
New EST Temple
Newsboy Legion Clubhouse
Nichol-Flopp 24-Hour Theatre
Nick’s—Formerly Martini’s
Off-Track Betting
Old Opera House
Our Boarding House
Our Lady of Perpetual Help
Package Store
Palooka’s Celebrity Bar
Panorama Hair Salon
Paper City
Parlor Furniture—30 Years Without a Sale
Pinball Pizza
Pittsburgh Fat’s Pool Parlor
Please Don’t Eat Daisy’s Flower Shop
Plymouth Brethren
Pop’s Choklit Shoppe
Poppa Wheelie’s Bike Shop
Proletarians R Us
Pump It Up Sex Novelties
Pursuit of Happiness Men’s Clothing
Quality City
Quasiland Spaghetti factory
Red Square Grille
Redbrick University
Redline Properties
Regent Pop
Rise Club
Roadside Zoo
Robber’s Roost
Robin Hood’s
Rotfleish and Blutbrot Attorneys
Route One Diner
Roxydrome
Roy El Hotel
Roy Rogers Taxidermy
Salt of the Earth Health Foods
Samson Agonistes Health Club
Sapere Aude Bartending School—Where You Only Mix With
the Best
Savananda Jayanthi
Scarlett O’Neill’s Boarding House
School for the Blind
Self-Realization Fellowship
Shave and A Haircut Barber Shop—No Shaves
Shih-Fu Sheng Yen
Short Stop Filling Station—When You Have a Blowout
Invite Us to Your Flat
Shuffle Inn
Sign of the Poisoned Glass
Sin Bin’s
Sloppy Joe’s—Police Eat Free
Smitty’s Birdland
Sol’s Shoe Repair
Solid Jackson’s Shoe Shine
Soy Joy Food Coop
Spiritualist Home
Sport’s Kennel
Square’s Bar
Squeaky McClean’s Housekeeping Service
Sri Swama Satchida-Nanda
Storefront Library
Storyville
Swank Tux Rental
Sweet’s
Tally’s Corner
Temple of Baal
Temple of the 10,000 Voices of God
Terminal Cafe
The Academy
The Adventure Club
The Atomic Cafe
The Big Store
The Bijou
The Cheap Loaf
The Cherub’s Rest
The Coffee Bean
The Colonial Inn
The Cracker’s Club
The Crown
The Devil
The Dove
The Drinking Club
The Eight Ball Café
The Elite Motel
The Fireworks Factory
The Flower Stall
The Glass Bar
The Glens Apartments
The Glove
The Gold Club
The Golden Fleece
The Great Winter Garden
The Hamilton Club
The Hip Bagel
The Hop Joint & Coffeetime Lounge
The Hotel Astor
The Jefferson Club
The Juke Joint
The Knock-Out Place
The Last Stand
The Lion
The Lobby Bar
The Low Dive
The Madison Club
The Magic Wallet
The Man in the Moon
The Men’s Club
The Nun
The Old John Raines Hotel
The Old Log Inn
The Old Temperance Hotel
The Palladium
The Passion Pit
The Patricians Club
The Pick Rick
The Planter’s Café
The Plate House
The Play Den Disco Strip Club
The Player’s Club
The Pleasure Bar
The Purple Zebra
The Rack
The Red Barn
The Roxy
The Shuttle
The Silly Boy Lounge
The Snak Shak
The Spa
The Steelworker’s Club
The Tee Many Martoonis Club
The Three Cups
The Three Tons
The Thunderer: An Alternative Weekly
The Underworld Cafe
The Vice District
The Washington Club
The Whiteman Apartments
The Wild One
Theosophist Gathering
Toot N Kum In Garage
Torpedo’s Subs
Trailways Café
Trinity Cathedral
Tubby’s Trough
Twenty Per Cent Pawn Shop
Umberto’s Coney Island
Uncle Elby’s General Store
Uncle William’s Useless Things
Union Headquarters
Union Station
Walt’s Variety Store
Way and Light Bookstore
Weary Willie’s
Western Union
Whiz Fun & Games
White’s Collars
William D. Fard Church Mission
Willie the Sweeper
Yes U Kan Tractor Trailer School
YMCA
YMHA
Young Spatacus Ice Cream Shoppe
Yum Yum Tree
YWCA
YWHA
Zucchini’s Squash Courts  

THE INFORMATION #775 MARCH 14, 2014

THE INFORMATION
#775 MARCH 14, 2014
Copyright 2014 FRANCIS DIMENNO
https://dimenno.wordpress.com

He who joyfully marches to music rank and file has already earned my contempt.–Einstein

WHEN THIS WORLD CATCHES FIRE
BOOK THREE: SAVAGE NOXTOWN
CHAPTER NINE: PART ONE: THE MAYOR OF HELL

After warning me that there were certain things I was too young to know about, Old Doc Ketman apparently reconsidered, and decided that in my case, a little knowledge was a dangerous thing, and so he suggested that we walk and we talk. We strolled through a dusty alley and stopped in front of his horse-drawn wagon; the horse was in its stable and so we leaned up against the back of the unhitched conveyance.

“In my time I have fallen aft of the foul fiend,” said Ketman. “I refer to Cokey Stolas. You know you’ve fallen foul of the Mayor of Hell,” he said, giving me a rueful smile which failed to conceal his bad teeth, “when you walk into a room and people sees you and they whisper ‘Stolas, Cokey Stolas,’ and then they stop talking. You cruise the avenue and it is like you are the prow of a boat–people who might ordinarily walk right past you go skimming off to left and right, and cross the street to avoid you. ‘That’s him,’ they whisper. ‘That’s the guy. Gee he looks like a swell. But I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes. Not with The Big Man agin’ ‘im.’ “

“In all the bars–in the Seven Stars tavern most of all, Yellof–you can bet they talk–even of old Doc Ketman–in the most guarded of terms. They give him credit, sure. They say those stories about the whore murders was a frame-up. But they also say other things. They say that they wouldn’t want to be the yellof who the Big Man is got his eye on. They say Old Doc Ketman is a poisoner. And yet it’s the Big Man his own self who would know from poison. Some say he favors arsenic, others say he goes to the pharmacy for good old number nine–strychnine. Works fast. You know old Skip? Harmless duffer. Made a flub. Kilt the prize roses of the Big Man. Soon after, he went into convulsions and choked to death. Good reason they also call the Big Man “Chokey,” though never to his face. Well, they don’t know it, Yob, but old Doc Ketman has charms that make him immune to most poison, and also give him keen hearing, and he can also read lips. I can hear what they say or at least I can see it and I can’t say as what they say is totally unfair. Sure, I work the roots, and I reakon I could poison a Yellof if I had a mind to, but I never use my root-craft for bad. But Stolas has no such scruples. You ever cross him, you best beware. He has a powder he puts in a woman’s drink, makes her act wild. Soon enough she’s down on all fours and barking like a dog. What’s worse, she don’t care who her Mammy or Pappy is and you can do whatever you like to her.”

 
“They say that the late mysterious murder of the little shop girl’s folks was done by the shop girl herself, who was made wild by drugs provided by Stolas. I have no idea. I don’t meddle in matters which concern me not. But I wouldn’t put it past him. It sounds a good deal like his work. A hooded man–sniping from the roof of a bank at passerby? Believe it or not, sounds to me like more of Stolas’s mischief. Good way to prompt a run on a bank you don’t care to have in close competition. Small wonder then, that they call him The Mayor of Hell. All the school teachers know who he is. Reason being, a you have a likely lad, aged sixteen, big burly fellow, good at games and fleet of foot–he won’t go to the high school but will like as not fall into Stolas’s net and become his flunky. He has any number of young Blutos at his beck and call, and it’s said that he kin mesmerize ’em–make ’em slaver like dogs. I been around, Yob, and I heered things, and many of the things I hear are not meant for outside ears but I hear them all the same. Fact is, only thing the folks in Noxtown is got to do with their nights is spend them in drinking, and drink loosens the tongue, and a man who can hold his drink and also hold his tongue is a rarity, and still more rare the man who drinks to forget but can remember everything he did the night before–that man is one in a hundred. Stolas knows this, and knows this well.”

“I do not say this lightly, but that man is the Devil, or one of his high priests–there’s a laugh–that such a man would be priest of anything, even evil–and well has he earned his title, spoken only sotto voce–‘The Mayor of Hell’. Hell, yob–there’s a grim story. But well has he earned it, says I. Your ears are too tender to hear half of what this man has done. Lord Jesus, thy wounds so red will guard me against death.”

“There are two worlds, as you may have reckoned. One is the ordinary world whose air you swim through and never give a thought of–like a fish in a pond ye are–bulgy eyes and all–never nane the wiser of what you are and where ye be, because ye never give it a thought. But then there is the other world–call it the Underside if ye will–ye see it when you get a knock on the head, or when the wind is knocked out of you, or when ye just wake up in the morning or just before you go to bed at night. Some see it when they be lost in drink and their spirits start to leave their bodies. It’s a shimmering world, and there’s nought in it that can be trusted to last, but some men have said that this is actually the real world, and, at the very least, the world in which all the magic spells commence, and also the home of earth’s holy matter. Lord Jesus, thy wounds so red will guard me against death.”

 
Ketman paused to light his pipe, and, once he had gotten it going, and the acrid smell of an highly aromatic herb had filled the air, he turned to me and very seriously intoned the following.
“Like unto the prophet Jonas, as a type of Christ, who was guarded for three days and three nights in the belly of a whale, thus shall the Almighty God, as a Father, guard and protect me from all evil. Jesu, Jesu, Jesu.” And he crossed himself.

“Do ye not know–I might well ask myself, do ye need to know?–could such things be–I don’t know how to say this–but maybe God is not good. Maybe God is simply the difference between what we now know and what we used to know before we knew how to talk or think. Maybe God throws bombs from on a height. Maybe the Devil is the True Friend of Man–he gets involved. He is down and dirty. God…God, he don’t much care. He’s a shy one. You’ll never see Him where people gather–in a church or an the type of social club where all the Dagoes go, or in a gin mill or a private club or, for that matter, any place where two or more gather. Where is he? he ain’t there! That’s because God is a very Private Yellof. He’ll come to you, if you know how to ask, but if you ask wrong, or you ask Him for the wrong thing, it’s the devil you’ll find instead. And the chances of asking wrong are a dozen to one. More, if the truth be told.”

He stopped to puff at his pipe, which was empty, so he tapped out the ashes and put it cob-end op in the front pocket of his red flannel shirt.
“Here’s a word to the wise: Don’t never kill no bugs if ye can help it. If ye be willing to take life, ye be in rivalry with God. Christian ascetics was famously loathe to kill vermin. In fact, there’s a quote from some saint or somebody who deliberately scarred his flesh so maggots grew; and he also told his followers not to kill them, for their wee lives were sacred. The God-Mad is more than slightly crazy. The bedevilled also. Lord Jesus, thy wounds so red will guard me against death.”
 
“Back to the recruits of Stolas, there’s some devil work there, to be sartin. God gives ye a second chance; the devil gives ye a second chance; but Stolas gives no second chance. Just once you fumble the ball under Stolas’s eye, and ye be doomed. Dead men tell no tales. So ye grow up in a tenement and your family all work in the mills and ye quit school and the mills close their doors and half the bridges are falling down but nobody is being set to do the work of fixin’ ’em and all ye see everywhere is misery and people starvin’.”
 
” ‘Need a job? Go swim in the river!’ the Boss man says to you. But the river is cloudy. Ye dare not even fish it, let alone swim there. Eleven years of schoolin’, and ye speak like a bohunk. No manner of manners. You were born in a drafty hallway of a grim shack. Ye have no friends, and your family is not too sure whattae do with ye. And so who do ye go to? Healthy braw of a boy. Ye go to Stolas. He is the Devil. I says so. And he is come to do the Devil’s work. Ye dinna hear it from me, though.I dinna speak lightly of the Evil One.”

He paused and gave me a shrewd look.

“That there’s a recipe for another Smash Conklin.”

 

I was surprised at the mention of that name, but Ketman looked at my calmly and said, “His sins are as red as his beard. Lord Jesus, thy wounds so red will guard me against death. Lord Jesus, thy wounds so red will guard me against death. Lord Jesus, thy wounds so red will guard me against death.”

 
And as he stared at me with eyes as black as obsidian Ketman crossed himself–slowly, and callously.
 
1*SALUTATION
TROJAN REGGAE BEATLES TRIBUTE
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5JudvHD1w3g

2*REFERENCE
FRAGMENTS FROM GREENWICH VILLAGE
By Guido Bruno
http://www.bohemianlit.com/full_text/bruno/fragments.htm

3*HUMOR
5 EASY WAYS TO SPOT A B.S. STORY ON THE INTERNET
http://www.cracked.com/blog/5-easy-ways-to-spot-b.s.-news-story-internet/

 

4*NOVELTY
Holy Modal Rounders – Bird song (1971)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2nurgP9wb5o
 
5*AVATAR OF THE ZEITGEIST
 
6* DAILY UTILITY
 
7*CARTOON
THE REAL PANELS THAT INSPIRED WERTHAM’S ATTACK ON COMICS
http://cbldf.org/2013/10/designer-examines-werthams-attacks-on-comics/
 
8*PRESCRIPTION

ECCENTRIC ROADSIDE
http://eccentricroadside.blogspot.com/

 
9*RUMOR PATROL
RUSSIAN TRAVEL TIPS FOR VISITING AMERICA
“Only 5% of American Hoboes have been blinded from drinking Wood Alcohol!”
http://mentalfloss.com/article/54461/4-russian-travel-tips-visiting-america

 
10* LAGNIAPPE
ALSO SEE:
 
11* DEVIATIONS FROM THE PREPARED TEXT: A REVIEW OF OTHER MEDIA
COMIC FORMULA
“My biggest complaint about life is that”…is a good stand-up formula. If you could come up with twenty pithy observations, you’d have a five minute set and could go onstage as a comedian. In fact, my biggest complaint about life is that too many comedians seem to be doing exactly that.
 

*11A BOOKS READ AND REVIEWED

AN AMERICAN CHILDHOOD. DILLARD. ***1/2
AMERICAN FUN. BECKMAN. ****1/2
BATGIRL 3. ****
BATMAN INC. 1. ****
BEST AMERICAN COMICS 2013. ***1/2
BUY SHOES ON WEDNESDAY…DIVENCENZIO. ***
CAPE FEAR. MACDONALD. ***1/2
CHILD OF TOMORROW. FELDSTEIN. ***1/2
FALL GUY FOR MURDER, CRAIG. ****
A HARD DAY’S WRITE. TURNER. ***1/2
HOW TO DRINK SNAKE BLOOD IN VIETNAM. MAY. ****1/2
INFOGRAPHICA. TOSELAND. ***1/2
JAMES BOND OMNIBUS 3 & 5. ***1/2
JFK: A PHOTOGRAPHIC MEMOIR. FRIEDLANDER. ****
KARL MARX: DAS KAPITAL. ***1/2

THE LOUDEST VOICE IN THE ROOM. SHERMAN. ****

MIDNIGHT IN THE GARDEN OF GOOD AND EVIL. BERENDT. ****1/2
THE MONEY MASTERS. TRAIN. ***1/2
NIGHTMARE IN PINK. MACDONALD. ***1/2
THE REAL STATE OF THE WORLD ATLAS. ENLOE & SEAGER. ****
RED HOOD: THE LOST DAYS. ***
SECRET SPELLS AND CURIOUS CHARMS. BEISNER. ****

TRAPPED UNDER THE SEA. SWIDEY. ****
TROUBLE IS MY BUSINESS. CHANDLER. ***1/2
TWILIGHT AT MAC’S PLACE. THOMAS. ***
TWILIGHT OF THE ASSHOLES. KREIDER. ****

ZERO HOUR. KAMEN. ****

CONTROVERSIES IN POPULAR CULTURE.
733. STARBUCKS
Starbucks is for junkies who wish to Christ they still used drugs. All the ritual and expense and all the cult behavior, and all for a batch of badly burned beans served by a brusque Barista.

CONTROVERSIES IN POPULAR CULTURE.
734. LIBERACE
“Liberace…is the summit of sex–the pinnacle of masculine, feminine, and neuter. Everything that he, she and it can ever want. A deadly, winking, sniggering, snuggling, chromium-plated, scent-impregnated, luminous, quivering, giggling, fruit-flavored, mincing, ice-covered heap of mother love. This appalling man—and I use the word appalling in no other than its true sense of terrifying—has hit this country in a way that is as violent as Churchill receiving the cheers on V-E Day. He reeks with emetic language that can only make grown men long for a quiet corner, an aspidistra, a handkerchief, and the old heave-ho. Without doubt, he is the biggest sentimental vomit of all time. Slobbering over his mother, winking at his brother, and counting the cash at every second, this superb piece of calculating candy-floss has an answer for every situation. Nobody since Aimee Semple MacPherson has purveyed a bigger, richer and more varied slag-heap of lilac-covered hokum. There must be something wrong with us that our teenagers longing for sex and our middle-aged matrons fed up with sex alike should fall for such a sugary mountain of jingling claptrap wrapped up in such a preposterous clown.”–William Connor

MODERN WISDOM NUMBER 185 MARCH 2014

MODERN WISDOM: AMERICA’S ONLY HUMOR MAGAZINE
NUMBER 185

MARCH 2014
Copyright 2014 Francis DiMenno
http://dimenno.gather.com
dimenno@gmail.com

http://www.dimenno.wordpress.com

 

AND NOW…MODERN WISDOM PRESENTS:

1. ALL ROADS LEAD TO FOLLY

2. NOBODY WANTS A GENIUS

3. TIME WON’T LET ME MAN

4. OCCULT AVENUE

5. BEST PUBLISHING

6. MISFORTUNE

7. THE CENSORIOUS DOG

8. BRATLINES
9. COGNATES
10. CAST OF CHARACTERS
11. THE ROBOT WITH THE SCREAMING FACE
12. SMART ASS
13. ANDROID BROTHERHOOD
14. GARRISON WORLD
15. BIZARRO GATSBY
16. FEEDING THE BEAST
17. THE CRAZY CHANNEL
18. BUSY WITH THEM GOOFBALLS 
19. SWINGING POTTERSTOWN
20. THE BOOK OF UTTER BULLSHIT

21. INVERTED CLICHES, OR “EVERYBODY ELSE ALWAYS RUINS IT FOR A FEW ASSHOLES”

Since our fine Hollywood solons and wise men have rung all the possible changes on every conceivable genre, it’s high time that they started making movies which are not only deliberately stupid, but ones which deliberately make no sense. And what better way to do that than to take half-forgotten cliches, reverse them, and in the process put a post-modern spin into the dialogue? The critics will hate it but the audience will be baffled. Then we can all go back to watching TV, reading tabloids and eating bon-bons.

 

NAVAL 

“Give me but three ships, your highness– and we’ll be blown out of the water!”

 

FRENCH REVOLUTION 

“The peasants are storming the palace gates! It looks like your goose is cooked, Kingie ol’ buddy!

 

PIRATES 

“Bring me the head of Captain Morgan–and then I’ll probably kill YOU too!”

 

SHOW BIZ 

“Baby, you’re going out there as an understudy–but when the show is over, you’ll be…fired!”

 

WAR 

“If we stay here we’re going to be trapped like rats!” [Slap]…HEY, what did you have to go and do THAT for?

 

ESPIONAGE 

“Tell these plans to no one–except maybe your wives and sweethearts.”

 

BOXING 

“Baby, this is my last fight, I promise–because Kid Crusher is gonna beat me to a pulp!”

 

 MYSTERY 

“Now that you’re here, Charles, I’m more afraid than ever!”

 

POLITICS 

“Not a word of this must leak out to the newspapers–but it’s OK to tell the National Enquirer because nobody believes them anyway!”

 

MONSTER 

“Lock the door behind me, Susan, and don’t open it for anybody–except maybe the pizza delivery boy.”

 

SLASHER 

“They all laughed at me–even you! I don’t LIKE to be laughed at! But, come to think of it, I am kind of a ridiculous little man.”

 

COP 

“Play ball with me and you’ll be back to poundin’ a beat in no time!”

 

DETECTIVE 

“Look, Trench, it’s a simple case of suicide–and we’ve already warned you off the case–but if you think it’s murder then the police would like to hear your theory!”

 

MOBSTER 

“The boys tell me you’re been shootin’ off your mouth all over town. But then again, everybody knows the boys are a bunch of lyin’ bums.”

 

PRISON 

“The parole board turned me down again, but I’m not going with you on the prison break–because it would be wrong.” 

 

WESTERN 

“One man travelin’ light COULD make it back to the fort–but why bother when we’re all doomed anyway?”

 

TERRORIST 

“Back–all of you! Take one more step and the girl might die. Then again, maybe not.”

 

CONSPIRACY 

“Oh hell–all the files are on Windows–and all I know how to use is a Mac!”

 

HORROR 

“Do what you want to the girl, Scarwell–just let me get the hell out of here!” 

 

 

MORE INVERTED CLICHES, OR “ALL BUSINESS IS JUST LIKE SHOW BUSINESS”

 

Perhaps the single most wonderful thing about advertising is that it is the secular religion of our day. It offers up its own iconic patron saints, symbolic of product attributes. These ad figures define things by what they are not–by advertising them as having those very same attributes. For instance, a deeply humane clown and a chortling, miniaturized, animatronic dough golem stand as symbols of enormous multinational corporations which are laws unto themselves and dedicated to starving farmers and poisoning consumers with lard. (And those are their good qualities!) Hollywood works fist-in-glove with ad agencies, the processed food industry, and other kingmakers, and since it has exhausted long ago every still-viable cliche, perhaps in the near future we can look forward to being sold inverted cliches, such as are to be found in the following dialogues:

 

ARMY 

“Surrender? Sure!”

 

RUSSIAN REVOLUTION 

“I have determined to give the kulaks their own state.”

 

BUSINESS MOGUL 

“I am going to subsidize the purchase of modern machinery for the farmers–why should THEY assume all the risk?”

 

MUSIC BIZ 

“Sorry–if you can’t sing or play an instrument, we can’t use you.”

 

DIPLOMACY 

“Under most circumstances we cannot afford to back down and lose face…but seeing as how the fate of the world hangs in the balance–we STILL won’t do it!”

 

SCI-FI 

“The aliens are indistinguishable from human beings–period. So why fight them?”

 

WRESTLING 

“Baby, this is my last fight, I promise–because I just found out that this game is rigged!”

 

ROMANCE (FEMALE) 

“I’ve been a fool–such an utter fool! I THOUGHT I could live without you–but I stayed with you for twenty years anyway!” 

 

ROMANCE (MALE) 

“What have I ever done to deserve a wife like you? Must be payback for that bank job I pulled in Cincy back in ‘98!”

 

MYSTERY 

“So you’re saying the dead man stabbed himself twenty times, then shot himself in the head and still had time to write a suicide note with his own blood?? Hmm…sounds plausible to me.” 

   

MUSICAL 

“Hear that, darling? It’s “Zyklon B Zombie”–that’s OUR song!”

 

BASIC TRAINING 

“Here are the volunteers, sir–Trump, Rockefeller, Clinton, Gates and Hoffman!”

 

DOGS 

“Maw, the boy thinks the world of that mutt–better kill it.”

 

SWORDPLAY 

“Retrieve your sword, Snobwell. You haven’t got a chance anyway, because I’m a-gonna blow your head off!”

 

SERIAL KILLER 

“They all laughed at me–even you! So now I’m going to switch from murder to stand-up comedy!”

 

WESTERN 

“Why wait for the law to string up these hoss thieves? We got plenty of spare hosses, so let’s give a few of them away and let the owlhoots go!”

 

MONSTER 

“Man was not meant to tamper with forces beyond his control–except, or course, under the aegis of the government or a multinational corporation!”

 

MOBSTER 

“I’ve been taking elocution lessons, Boss–and I’m planning to go to graduate school!”

 

PRISON 

“Prison break? Count me out–I’m working on my book.”

 

COWBOYS AND INJUNS 

“Hurry back to the fort…and tell them we’re giving back the land we stole from the Native Americans and other indigenous aboriginal tribesmen!”

22. IN THE PAST AND IN THE FUTURE

SSSYON TWO
Two fryends sit side by side in orthopedic easy chairs in the high-priced atmosphere of the Clean Room. These were the only rooms in the great conurbation–where absolute quiet was assured. You checked your devices at the door, although in some cases this was problematic, since not so recently many such devices had gone from supplemental technology to built-in prosthetics. The speakers were RICYRD, a blonde young man of about 70, and ANTONI, a dark old man of about 50. 

RICYRD began in his genially bantering style by asking “How be you, li’l feller?” These twin archaisms were doubly appreciated for their sheer felicity. ANTONI replied in kind, “I bane well. 10 minutes of artificial sunshine and I’m a new man.”

Nobody had dared to venture out unprotected in broad daylight for decades, so this was more information than RICYRD needed, and he started to say so, when suddenly he thought of a new tack.”Christianity has faded in the wake of more novel religions. But sooner rather than later, people will push aside these Johnny-come-lately cultic sects, and will adhere to Protestantism with a fervor that will astonish and horrify you.”

ANTONI replied “God speed the day.” His voice was dripping with an irony practically unknown in that era. “There is no hatred in religion but there is religious hatred.”

RICYRD replied, with equal irony, “There’s no money in poetry, but there’s poetry in money.”

Poetry, of course, was an antique form–leastways, poetry as a poet of the distant past would have understood it. It was as foreign a language as Volapük or Sanskrit.

After all, the two of them, being among the few who knew let alone understood history, were well aware of the unprecedented era in which they had found themselves. An era in which the news feed was a-twitter with news of radioactive tumbleweeds and the Happy Valley Ghetto, but nobody knew who Stalin, or Lenin, or Putin were, let alone Chairman Mao. An era in which the American Revolution was a distant platitude and the French Revolution had long ago been relegated to a trivia question.

 

It was a world in which, thanks to various compulsory HA HA drugs administered twice daily, nobody knew how to be unhappy. The drugs were manufactured with trace radioactivity to ensure patient compliance—and so it was, then, that the growing radical religious faith of Hoboism, and the ever-widening web blackouts, were met with equinaminity by the benumbed populace.

23.  VAGRANT PRESS CATALOG

 

RECENT RELIGIOUS AND NEW AGE TITLES
THE SATANIC BIBLE
Dr. Betubium Asyniur. Extinguishing that divine spark before it gets too big for its britches.
THERE IS EVIDENCE THAT THINGS WHICH DO NOT EXIST ACTUALLY DO EXIST
Dymphna Grangousier. Author recounts spirit-meetings with Elvis, Furby, Tupac, Marilyn and “Dear Mr. Jesus.”
SICK FOOD, HEALTH FOOD.
Issachar Milksop. All food is dead, but some foods are more dead than others. Paper.
SCENES, DREAMS, BOATS TO FOREVER
Don Van Vliet. “Boated ether creeps the ether feather” and other insights.
THE NEW SONG OF THE SEVENFOLD DEATH
Grand Lama Hucklebuck. G.L. is “In tha House” to show you how to rap your way to Nirvana.
TWELVE KEYS TO THE GATES OF THE PANTRY
Friar Cuthbert Usquebagh. Combining Christian, Hebrew, Greek and Celtic myths, these verse parables make fine bedtime stories for the kiddies.
SOUL SOLDIER
S/Sgt. Redlaw Limberham. Stirring tales of martial derring-do from the groovy G.I. whose fighting slogan is “Kill for peace.”
GO AWAY, LORD
Grey Greengold, aka Tribulation Faithpower. One man’s journey from devout priest to avowed agnostic. Calf-bound.
PRETTY PRETTY SISTER MOON
Johnanokes Esclandre. When a “poor little rich boy” finds a vagabond nun holed up in the bathroom of his Beverly Hills hacienda, two lives change for all eternity. Illustrated. 21+ and proof of age.
VERMIE, THE WORM WHO WAS AFRAID OF COMPOST
Johnnie Raw, PhD. Can Vermie outwit Bluejay the early bird and make his new home in completely rotten kitchen scraps? With diagrams.

VAGRANT PRESS: RECENT MEMOIRS AND AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL TITLES

I AM TOO A DOCTOR, VOLUMES ONE, TWO AND THREE
Kerry Bloss, M.D. In 340 autobiographical essays, the authoress gently chides the over-achieving, back-stabbing, male-dominated medical profession and its cut-throat band of snide, supercilous, social-climbing chauvinist medicos who care only for money and fame.
I GENTLY MOCK BUSINESSMEN FOR CASH ON THE BARRELHEAD
A. Biriwotz. How to succeed in business by being sort of funny. Introduction by Chris Buckbey.
THE IRISH MAFIA SUCKS
C. Calabrese. Posthumously published memoir completed just before author’s unfortunate “accident.”
STORIES KISSED BY JESUS
Reeve Bonsai. Humorous up-to-the-minute reminiscences based on Christ’s parables.
HOW TO BE A SUCCESSFUL OLD MAN AT FORTY
Cad Cadwell. Tips for the jejune on how to impress fat-cats with your political acumen.
THE SAUDIS ARE AMERICA’S FRIENDS
Norbert Quistgrow. Prominent libertarian anti-tax activist betrays his political scruples for vast wads of cash–and so can you!
BABY, EVERY DAY WITHOUT YOU IS A DAY THAT’S GONNA TURN OUT WRONG
S.G. Christ. Sequel to his acclaimed memoir I CRIED YESTERDAY. Large print.
MAKING WITH THE GAGS
Thomas Maxwell Ross Gampil. Impish humorist shows how to get a job producing hilarious and innovative sitcoms by hiring college cronies who write familiar pastiches of post-ironic jests.
A THING CALLED BOY
Anonymous. A robot is teased and ostracized by other machines for longing to become human. Adapted from the children’s classic by Carlo Collodi.
KORAN, SCHMORAN–GIMME A PIGFOOT AND A BOTTLE OF BEER
B. Smith. Posthumously published memoir completed just before author’s unfortunate “accident.”

VAGRANT PRESS: RECENT “HOW-TO” AND SELF-HELP TITLES

BACKGAMMON FOR ABSOLUTE IDIOTS
U. Gene Dong. Playing the game not to win but to frustrate your opponents. Illustrated.
MODERN BUT ALSO HIDDEN
Fariq Sadrim. Wisdom of the ancients given a refreshingly irreverent twist.
URINE TROUBLE
Fareydeen Batmanbareej. Ancient Hindu longevity methods too distressing to mention here.
FEED THE CATS TO THE RATS AND THE RATS TO THE CATS.
Brick Ragg. How to start your own Cat and Rat Ranch and get cat skins for “nuthin’.” By the author of TAKE THE BIG CATS DEEP-SEA FISHING.  Illustrated.  
SURVIVING THE DRUG MARATHON
D.R. Prophane, C.P.A. The mentally ill and substance abusers swap trade secrets.
A BOY NAMED MY GIRL BILL
Goldy Silverstein. Memoir of the son of a senescent Tin Pan Alley songster and a Brill Building factotum with a cruel sense of humor.
I WAS A GUNSEL FOR THE PTA
Roscoe Lard. Midget P.I. goes undercover to break up a 6th grade protection-for-lunch-money-

shakedown racket.
SINGING SONGS FOR SATAN
Mick Rolley. Disgruntled religious scholar discards scruples, becomes manager of a heavy-metal troupe.
IT’S HALLOWEEN, IT’S HALLOWEEN, IT’S HALLOWEEN!
Ricky Shagg. Stunningly drop-dead gorgeous poems exploring the ins and outs of the holiday.
DEEP THOUGHTS OF THE BUTCHER BOY
Caleb McPatrick. Light verse about often unsavory topics.

 
VAGRANT PRESS: RECENT NON-FICTION TITLES
MOPPING UP THE SLOPES
Presley “Prez” Presley. Navy janitor’s WWII memoir reveals an unexpected side to the dangers of custodial duties during wartime. Includes fold-out maps. Formerly titled I SPENT MOST OF THE WAR COWERING IN A SUPPLY CLOSET.

WHO IS THIS GODDAMN FREAK AND HOW DID HE GET PAST THE DOORMAN?
Rubin Stephenson. Memoirs of the disgruntled owner of the short-lived, less-than-celebrated NYC night club “Studio 55.” Paper.

DOUGLAS DUNG, THE ORGANIC GARDENER’S FRIEND
D.R. Nicholas Scratch. Douglas the dungheap and his vermin friends teach a little “sprout” the true joys of organic farming. Ages 5-8.

HEY JESUS, IT’S ME–MR. FAREYDEEN BATMANBAREEJ!
Fareydeen Batmanbareej. Religious memoir in rhymed verse based on the author’s personal experience of the power of prayer, positive thinking, and thirst-quenching Ayurvedic techniques. Illustrated by the author.

ARE YOU RUNNING WITH ME, BUDDHA?
Malcolm Malcolmson, S.J.D. Catholic priest explores new options in the wake of recent scandals. By the author of THE ONE AND ONLY CHRISTIAN GOD WILL FOREVER BE MY GLORY AND SALVATION.

AT THE SIGN O’ THE BEAST
“Petey Wheatstraw.” Psuedonymous memoir about a seemingly innocuous Jersey City Bar and Grill–which is not as harmless as it appears to foolish mortals! With an afterword by “The Mayor of Hell.”

THE CASE OF THE SLUGGISH SNAPPING TURTLE
King Ranch, PhD. Meek, mild, handsome but somewhat bashful College Professor and Marine Biologist who sometimes stutters when he gets drunk or flustered loses his inhibitions when he gets involved in a web of intrigue.

THE LAZY MAN’S GUIDE TO PHYSICAL FITNESS
Adipose Fati. Author shares quick fixes, tricks and shortcuts to becoming slender in a hurry. NOTE: VAGRANT PRESS IS NOT LEGALLY RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONSEQUENCES OF FOLLOWING THIS ADVICE.

CRIMINALS IN THIS WORLD OF FEAR
Professor Ginny Cringeworth, M.D. Noted psychologist explains why all our most seemingly irrational phobias are more than justified, in light of the always-deteriorating world situation.

THE VIEW FROM THE SKI-LIFT
Master Ken Logon, Esquire. Author’s self-composed religious meditations and prayers devised while running a failing but Christian-oriented ski resort. Formerly titled I REALLY DID SEE THE FACE OF JESUS IN AN ICICLE.

VAGRANT PRESS: RECENT FICTION & NON-FICTION TITLES

YOU CAN DO IT!
N.V.K.D. Peale. 1,001 encouraging statements, including “Attaboy,” “Way To Be,” and “Hot Diggity Dog Ziggity Boom.”

MY FRIEND MILLI
Charming tale of a bossy millipede who holds other neighborhood bugs in thrall. Ages 5-8.

40 YEARS OF UPS AND DOWNS
Andre Poilu. Autobiography of a man who ran the funicular railway in Quebec City. Translated from the French.

FLYING ON THE GROUND IS WRONG
Michael Glub. 1,242 page novel describes the author’s May 7, 1978 mescaline trip and his perilous journey, on foot and via subway, from the Lower East Side to the Upper West Side of New York City. Copiously illustrated by the author.

DR. LATIN AND MR. SAX
Zak Jerouac. Experimental fiction written in alternating chapters of ornate and concrete prose.

ANGEL PUP
F. Gledhill. Cynical yuppies find their hearts melting when the ghost of a dead pooch becomes their spiritual beacon.

CO-DEPENDANT AND LOVING IT
By “Me and My Gal.” Psuedonymous couple pen counter-therapuetic tell-all.

HEAVENS TO MURGATROYD, MR. SNAGGLEPUSS!
Al Koren. A real cool cat gets stranded on a desert island with two cool chicks. Ages 2-5.

THE TAIL-GUNNER AND THE WALLFLOWER
Petty Officer Client M. Pipkin. Can a Plain Jane find true love with a G.I. Joe who won her in a poker game, only then he had to leave her and he maybe got shot but she doesn’t know because he doesn’t call, he doesn’t write…. Paper.

FUN ADVENTURE FOR KIDS AGED 5-12.
Jim Younger Bumm. The title says it all. Fun adventure for kids aged 5-12.

RECENT FICTION AND NON-FICTION TITLES FROM VAGRANT PRESS

MR. KATT, PHD
E. Teller. Memoir of the world’s smartest tabby and his hilarious misadventures during the building of  Cal Tech’s particle accelerator.

LIES, ALL LIES, NOTHING BUT FILTHY FILTHY LIES
A Hitler. German politician confronts his critics and adversaries. Illustrated by plentiful maps.

LITTLE LAMB, WHO MADE THEE?
B. William.  Memoir of a deeply religious shepherd 40 years in the Australian outback.

GUH! WHAT A CANAL!
Joe Miller. Compilation of classic jokes dating from World War Two. By the author of CRUSHED NUTS? NO–SHELL SHOCK!

WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO MAKE LOVE
D.R. Maven. Useful handbook for adolescents, prisoners, soldiers, priests and foreign legionnaires who either never knew or have totally forgotten. With spicy illustrations. 21+ only. Shipped in plain brown wrapper.

HOW MUCH IS THAT EIDOGG IN THE WIDNOW?
Alan Sott. Travails of a dyslexic songwriter (or, as he spells it, “snogriterw.”) With an “intordutcion” by the author.

MY FRIEND GOOFUS.
John Gallant. Soft-spoken, well-groomed lad attempts to guide his wayward friend toward respectability yet always fails spectacularly. Illustrated.Ages 2-6.

THE WAR ON POETRY
Peter Straub. A cabal of powerful fat-cats quit pretending they appreciate high art and embark on a vindictive crusade “to eliminate poetry in our lifetime.” With an introduction by John Ashcroft.

WORK HARD AND GROW RICH!
By “A. Mutt.” Vagrant Press has published some pretty “far out” vanity publications in the past, but this one beats all.Author claims it is not a lucky break or inherited wealth or the right connections or a million-dollar idea which will make you wealthy, but “good old elbow grease.”

THE STUPID LAW OF CHANGE
Rosa Lux, PhD. When bad things happen it’s probably all your fault. Either that, or it’s simply the cruelly random universe at work. Blame yourself, and stop struggling, you poor fool–there is absolutely nothing you can do.

VAGRANT PRESS SUMMER RELEASES

HALLELUJAH, I’M A HOMELESS MAN
By Dave Gegen with Boxcar Pete. Formerly obese businessman suffers financial reverses, turns vagabond, subsists on handouts, potato seeds, and stale dregs of beer and wine, loses 150 pounds, ends up in the hospital, and eventually finds happiness as an inspirational speaker.

THE CARROT TOP KILLER
Sasha Smith. Serial killer stalks brash prop comedian but no detective in the United States, Canada, Mexico, or Western Europe is willing to take the case.

OUT OF THE BLACK
H. Huertz. Bitter, spite-filled memoirs of a world-famous cartoonist’s obscure assistant. By the author of PEANUTS, SCHMEANUTS. Paper.

PRIVATE EYE OF NEWT AND TOE OF FROG
Z. Unkle. Shaman detective uses mystical trances to figure out unsolvable crimes and look under the dresses of pretty girls. 18+ only. Some content may be objectionable to Christians.

SOME POETRY THAT RHYMES FOR A CHANGE
Woody Williamsworth. Modern poetry is hard to understand, so the author leads us on a comfortingly familiar odyssey of cute pups, speckled hens, and fields of daisies. “Illuminated” by the author.

DANNY’S INFERNO
“Danny X.” Pyromaniac fireman’s pseudonymous tell-all memoir. Available in asbestos binding.

THE SMILING FACE OF THE MAN ON THE MURDER TRAIN
W. Starr. Dada detective goes gaga when surrealist serial killer leaves incomprehensible clues. Printed on toilet paper.

DOLLY, FROGGY AND OXINFREE: AN INTIMATE BIOGRAPHY
By “Froggy” Oxinfree with Kaitlin Kelley. Well-respected but little-known TV puppeteer’s posthumous show-biz memoir. Includes previously-seen photographs.

HAVE ANOTHER HIT–FROM MY LEAD-FILLED ROSCOE
O. Hamblin. Opium-smoking detective solves mysterious San Francisco Chinatown dosshouse deaths. By the author of TWELVE WOPS AND A WAC.

BE A QUITTER!
Charles Blackwood Bathhurst Algernon III. Irresponsible scion of fabulously wealthy British peers shares his hedonistic philosophy of all play and no work. By the author of BE A CAD! and BE A BOUNDER!

FAIRTOMIDDLINGPOETS.COM & VAGABOND PRESS PRESENT SUMMER READING

PEEPAW IS MY DANDY
Beckysue Li III. Chinese orphan’s gutsy tribute to her venerable ancestor.

WHEN THOU HEART BREAKETH THAT MEANETH THOU ART IN “LUV”
G. Christian Grassvalley. Sonnet cycle pays tribute to Dante, Shakespeare, Milton, Keats, McKuen and Red Buttons.

THE DANCING DOG
W. A. Gilder. The tale (teller!) wags the dog in this delightful children’s book about the sidesplitting misadventures of an ornery, trigger-happy cowpoke and his hapless pooch as they face the dangers of being “homeless on the range.” With charming illustrations by Keith Haring.

PATTERNS
Waco Lowee. Introspective, brooding verses about the author’s recovery from mental illness and black despair. Features his or her award-winning poem “That’s My Black Monkey in the Glass.”

MY BOY LOLLIPOP
M. Small. This sprightly collection of verses will make your heart go “giddy-up”-guaranteed, or your money back!

LET HER DANCE LET HER DANCE LET HER DANCE DANCE DANCE
K. Soje. Poems by and about a “wild child” of the 1960s.

I MEAN I CAN FLY…LIKE A BIRD IN THE SKY
Licoricestick McSilverstein-Marley. Poet sings the praises of life in the backwoods of the Ozarks and the “mean streets” of Brooklyn.

I AM FIVE
By Joey Ketcham. Five year old writes about what it’s like to be five. Sure to thrill five-year-olds of all ages.

INTERSTELLAR UNICORNS
Mandy Frodo Nebb. “Far out” and “magikal” verses from the furthest reaches of the known galaxy and beyond.

SWEET JESUS PLEASE DON’T LET ME GET EATEN BY A PACK OF WILD DOGS
R. McCoy. Posthumously published manuscript of a man trapped for three days in a wilderness cabin.

VAGABOND PRESS PRESENTS: STILL MORE SUMMER READING

YOU DON’T BUY $200 SNEAKERS WHEN THE KIDS ARE HUNGRY!
Lee Martin. Ruminations by the son of a lawyer and a doctor who, as the result of a few bad decisions and a biased D.A., ends up living in a public housing project.

YOUR SMILE IS KILLING ME
B. Hibben. Married woman with several children encounters a spooky misfit she once befriended 40 years ago.

UNCA TEEF’S BIG BOOK OF FUN
K. Dudley. Title belies contents of book–a serious study of the life of a small boy, abandoned by his parents, and his adventurous attempts to build a home for a stray kitten.

YOU’RE BAD!
S. Newton. Sixth-grade pothead and dope dealer describes life growing up on Penfort Street, very much on the wrong side of the tracks.

KIDNEYS URP! HITCHY-SLURP!
R. Hatcher. Talented graphic artist writes a first novel bursting at the seams with inventive ideas, some of which are actually coherent.

ACTIVE IN THE YARD
J. Bolich. Ambitious teen starts his own inter-urban boxing league but hits a stone wall when some shady-looking characters start placing large cash bets on the outcomes.

BACK OF MY NECK GETTING DIRTY AND GRITTY
F. Kush. Poignant memoir of life on Polish Hill, where the strongest drug was horseradish and home brew was the biggest thrill of all.

SWALLOW MY PRIDE
F. Seanez. Guitar-strumming teacher at a school for the deaf in Tuscon, Arizona gives it all up to become a high-stakes corporate lawyer in Manhattan.

WHEN I’M SEVEN I’M SURE TO BE DEAD
D. McGivern. Kindergarten buddies go on to lead very different lives, but a spooky monster reunites the “meddling kids”.

THE MERRY MARVEL MARCHING SOCIETY
R. Domachowski. Memoir of the early days of Stan Lee’s multi-billion-dollar empire, by one who wasn’t there but wishes he had been.

VAGRANT PRESS: FORTHCOMING TITLES

YAT!
Brian Bomar. Seedy misadventures of a marine biologist vacationing in New Orleans.

WHY AREN’T I FAMOUS YET? AND OTHER PROVOCATIVE QUESTIONS
C. McDonald. Award-winning author banishes self-pity with brash queries. With drawings by the author.

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN OF THE JURY: YOU SURE HAVE PUT ON A LOT OF WEIGHT
Joe Domino. Country bumpkin lawyer’s utter lack of tact dooms his chances for advancement.

AS SOON AS I SAW YOUR FACE OH WEEGA I KNEW YOU WERE DESTINED TO RULE THE UNIVERSE
Robert Plawski. Vegas pit boss wins trip to Alpha Centauri.

THE NAME IS LESTER, NOT LESTOIL
L. Bartlett. Inauspiciously-named teen faces the constant challenge of warding off schoolboy taunts. By the author of YEAH, MY MIDDLE NAME IS SYLVESTER–WHAT OF IT?

HEY MA, DON’T YOU CRASH MY PARTY
A. Colamarino. Has this ever happened to you? Your Mom crashes your party. Too much!

CAN I PLUMP YOUR PILLOWS, MA’AM?
Hy Daniels. Plucky lad recovers from a broken home and a spell in prison to gain an associates degree  in Recreation from Slippery Rock University.  

SMILE–THE DRINKS ARE ON ME! AND OTHER FABLES
B. Hagen. Disbarred Newport lawyer’s tell-all about representing the rich and famous. Illustrated.

THE STORY OF A BAND
D. Bear. Musician’s memoir reminds us the entertainment industry isn’t all beer and skittles, but usually involves more upscale debaucheries. With photos.

THAT KAT IS KRAZY
Jay Bonner. “Experimental” novel in which cartoon characters rub elbows with beatniks. By the author of FLEAHAVEN.