THE INFORMATION #833
APRIL 24, 2015
The clever cat eats cheese and breathes down rat holes with baited breath. W. C. Fields
WHEN THIS WORLD CATCHES FIRE
BOOK THREE: SAVAGE NOXTOWN
CHAPTER TEN: PART FIFTEEN: KINGDOM COME
Count Justin Victor resumed his pleasant pattering chatter and chaffing, even though by now his audience had dwindled mostly to only those stalwarts who frequented the Seven Stars by necessity rather than choice: To wit, Pappy O’Day and Tipsy Smith, and me. And I hardly counted, being a ten year old who kept mostly out of the way and was never underfoot.
“Bad a fool as Adam O’Day is, he ain’t a patch compared to his mealy-mouthed Paw! Ain’t that right, Pappy? Far as I can tell, you and your wagging tongue have been causin’ a whole heap of trouble here in Noxtown. Say, confidentially, didn’t I see you having a sit down with the cop on the beat in the company of Police Captain Tom Aston? Sure, and weren’t you spilling the beans to them about the doin’s of Jack the Painter, and like that? Trying to say he was a drunkard , and had sniffed too much paint, and, and he was also on the dope? “
“Shut your blubber!” said Pappy O’Day. “It’s a damned lie! I never said no such thing! I’m with it and for it!”
“Well, in that case, it must have been a blue moon then, because I’ll be blowed if I didn’t see you just the other day down at the police station. And as we all know, fine words butter no parsnips. And say–didn’t I also see you telling Smash Conklin the Bludgeoner and Joe Rumbsuter the twanking Bully that Cool Slopp the pawnbroker has a wonderful tin box that is filled with yaller boys? And about how easy it would be to get him dumb-fogged on screech water and whiskey squeezins and scoff the lot? And didn’t Conklin say ‘Hah! Hah! Hah! I want gold!’ or words to that effect? And didn’t you tell him that the pawn shop that he has there is the home of the feathered oof-bird?”
“Oh, so maybe that wasn’t you; maybe that was some other sawed-off, crippled-up, bald-headed rogue with snaggly teeth and a crooked nose. Well, a turd’s as good for a blind sow as a pancake. And maybe I need to be totin’ around a set of cheaters, because unless mine eyes deceive me, and they seldom do, I could of swore I saw you gassin’ to Judge Rance Sniffle about all the riff-raff and tag-rag who gad about the Seven Stars and the other flatirons, and about the harum-scarum bunch of Gutter Bloods that make this place their home. About how they was all of them a bunch of gallows birds for certain, and ought all of them to be hanged as a simple preventative, and to give the crows a pudding. Wasn’t that you?”
“Nit!” said Pappy O’Day. “I would never blow the gaff on any man, until two Sundays come in a week!”
“That may be so,” said Count Victor Justin. “I’m not saying it is and I’m not saying it ain’t. Leave us be judicious in this matter of whether or not you’re actually a dyed-in-the-wool stool pigeon. Don’t get me wrong, Pappy. I like you. I like the way you square up and down even though you have nothing whatsoever to strut about. You’re no fart-sucker, or pukey snirp, like Tipsy Smith over there. You’re no pumpsucker either; you could probably drink all of us under the table. As a matter of fact, I do believe you love the firewater so well you would sell out your own son for a pint of old man’s milk. They way you snap at that bottle is a wonder to behold. You really like to go the pace, don’t you? I am sure that the yellofs who say that you are so hell-bent on taking care of number one that you are indifferent to the fate of your fellow man—I’m sure that those yobs are merely suffering from the delusions of an ignorant child.
“Who?” said Pappy O’Day. “Who’s been saying those things! I’ll have them arrested!”
“Now now,” said Count Victor Justin. “There’s no need to get yourself into a lather. I’m sure that the fabulists who repeat such palaver are simply talking for Buncombe. Just a bunch of low-down scrubs and poltroons. Fop-doodles, the lot of ‘em. Not fit to shine your shoes. If they have the gall to repeat their low-life rumors when I’m around, I’ll put a pettifogger on ‘em. All that talkee-talkee don’t amount to a hill of beans. But….”
“But WHAT?” said Pappy, and his voice was practically a shriek.
“But didn’t I also hear you say that Conklin and Rumbuster were a couple of turnip suckers and chaw-bacons, despite all their citified ways, and that they was always good for a drink? Didn’t I hear you say that the Big Man his own self had a yen for a bit of Fresh from the Girl Shop? That he longed to be a Fancy-Man, only he was too fat to fuck? Own up to it now; it’s only you, me, and the barkeep, and Tipsy Smith don’t never tell no tales out of school.”
At this, Pappy became almost hysterical with both fear and rage. “I didn’t—I couldn’t–I would never—“
“Well, say what you will,” said the Count. “But it’s your funeral if the word gets around that you’ve been slanderin’ The Big Man. You might as well pawn your coat and go on one last manly tear, because you won’t be needing it where you’re going.”
“You!” cried Pappy O’Day. “You’re—you’re the devil himself!”
“You flatter me,” said the Count. “Only it won’t wash. I just might have to get on the telephone and talk to The Big Man himself, and ask him what it is I’m supposed to do with a chaffing blubberhead as don’t know his place. I sure would hate to see what the likes of Conklin and Rumbuster would do to you if—But—Oh, I won’t tell on you, my little man. I’ve got a few profound truths of my own to retain about The Big Man. I suppose you and I are the only men living who know even a small part of the true story, so let us order a bottle of Rye, which I know for a fact is the real McCoy, and retire to the table over there where curious ears can’t hear us palaver.”
Without another word spoken Pappy O’Day, as white as a ghost, made his shuffling way to a nearby table. I kept well clear until I knew they forgot I was around, and then I mooched around their table–to hear what I could hear—and what no man was ever supposed to hear.
Captain Beefheart’s song about Zappa:
“Yeah . Beefheart and Vanna White should have procreated. Imagine the Dada blunderbuss that would have issued [forth].”
Captain Beefheart’s song about Death (as near as I can make out; I’ve been puzzling over the lyrics for over 30 years).
Five awful SNL hosts of the 70s
CRAM IT, CLOWN!
The Buchanan Brothers (1950)
(You Better Pray to the Lord) When You See Those Flying Saucers
Sheldon Allman (1960)
Crawl Out Through the Fallout
5*AVATAR OF THE ZEITGEIST
Some of these celebs (virtually all of whom will be all but forgotten in 30 years) have no doubt had their minds poisoned after being indoctrinated at an impressionable age from reading The Joy of Sex (or hearing about its pernicious anti-deodorant message secondhand). News flash, bearded bohemian walking cliche with a Chinese character tattooed on the back of your neck to indicate where the ax should fall (how convenient): The ladeez do not appreciate the smell of your manly sweat. And your shit does not smell like chocolate ice cream.
6* DAILY UTILITY
WHAT ONE DRINK OF SODA DOES TO THE BODY
American Imperialist: The Millionaire
HOW TO SPOT A COMMUNIST
HILLARY CLINTON CAMPAIGN LOGO
“So what lucky 3rd grader won the Design the Hillary Clinton Campaign Logo contest?”
DEVOUT JEWS SAY IXNAY TO SUBWAY FATTIES
MOST PROSPEROUS AND LEAST PROSPEROUS STATES
AMERICA’S RICHEST COUNTIES
11* DEVIATIONS FROM THE PREPARED TEXT: A REVIEW OF OTHER MEDIA
Legendary as being the most garage-y of all the legendarily inept-but-catchy garage rock anthems. Note the march drumming in the middle eight. (About one minute in.)
This punk band hailed from Bridgeport in North Texas, just Northwest of Fort Worth and were for a while a popular local attraction in the area. Randy was just 15 when this single was made. Mastered on a portable reel to reel cassette and recorded in a rock constructed cafe after hours, which probably explains the echoey sound, it’s hardly surprising the production sounds so crude. Only 500 copies were pressed at the time, but today, Green Fuz has become something of a cult classic.
“ALL THE OTHERS ARE IN THE PAST.”
Words to remember.
This is the song that changed the world as we know it. John Lydon was simply following in the footsteps of Randy Alvey.
“I’ll tell ya. Mike the drummer…his mom has two [of the Green Fuz singles] that have never had a needle on them. And,” he confides in a hushed, serious voice, “there is no money that can touch them.”
CONTROVERSIES IN POPULAR CULTURE.
792. FIGBAT OSWALD
12:09. Posted under Forever Changes and What Did Jesus Eat:
i came up with a theory that involves the book of genesis (fig leaves) buddha (sitting under the bodhi fig tree) jesus (many sayings about figs) ross hornes’ book (new health revolution) and science (figs are the most important source of food for fruit eating rainforest animals). i then experimented on the figs by eating mainly dried figs (same brand) for over 9 years now and found cycles which i related to the numbers in psgs 11/12 of the book of revleations. this theory has gone everywhere.
Posted Under What Did Jesus Eat:
so far i have had eliminations at days 504, 840, 1176, 1512, 1848, 2184, 2520, 2856, 3192 and 3528. today is day 3555. i have definitely found something. i am not lying. what i have discovered has gone around the world and many songs have been written about it……the foo fighters’ last 4 albums…..coldplays’ last 4 albums……”vertigo” by U2 (my first name is phil). an elimination is a day when you experience strong flu-like symptoms and feel terrible. bad stuff is washed out of your body.
Posted under How to Use a Food Processor
my ears are now ringing with a continuous high pitched tone and i dont know what this means. in australia ross hornes’ books have been removed from the libraries and the bookshops. can anyone tell me what i have found?
From the Rate Your Music Message Board:
[There is a user by the name Figbat Oswald who, as far as I can tell, believes Youtube comment sections are his own personal blog. He comments regularly, usually regarding the progress of his bizarre diet. Here is an excerpt, from a Men at Work music video:]
day 2833. only figs and 3 oranges this morning and nothing more except urine til 7.00pm tonight. then usual foods. no change.
[He also makes frequent, cryptic references to his “theory”:]
- my name is figbat1 and today is my 2819th day of eating mainly dried figs.
would you like to know why and to read my theory?
google figbat1 or click on my figbat oswald moniker and go through my postings til you find it
if you cant find it…..keep looking. ASIO are doing their utmost to hide it and suppress it.
it is about jesus and figs and science and the foo fighters.
[His gloriously insane Youtube channel can be found here.]
[Hmm….This Figbat Oswald seems to be ONTO something.—ED]