MODERN WISDOM NUMBER 239 SEPTEMBER 2018

MODERN WISDOM: AMERICA’S ONLY HUMOR MAGAZINE
NUMBER 239
SEPTEMBER 2018

Copyright 2018 Francis DiMenno
dimenno@gmail.com
http://www.dimenno.wordpress.com

1. NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES: SECOND SERIES
601. You can’t sleep. And you don’t deserve to.
602. Everything is a joke to you. But God is not amused.
603. Hard work never killed anybody. But it never did you any good.
604. You are swimming in a quarry made for drowning, foolish one.
605. You are riding a rocket–a rocket to infamy.
606. Don’t follow the trials of vulgar celebrities–you have your own problems.
607. They hate you because you dragged better men down with you.
608. You are an honest citizen in a city of shame.
609. She’ll be your woman if you’ll be her man. But you are no man.
610. A dame who wears soul-crushing boots is poison to a gink like you.
611. You think you’re an individual with a life of your own. Think again.
612. A field mouse is all you are. A simple, simple field mouse.
613. You load sixteen tons and what do you get? An early grave.
614. Your subscriptions to Life magazine, and to life have both run out.
615. The Aryan Brotherhood shuns you. You are too vicious for their taste.
616. You are a puppet. And puppets can’t go to heaven.
617. Your beloved cat will gnaw on your warm corpse.
618. You are not a 98-pound weakling. You are a 298-pound weakling.
619. Your ball team will use you for second base. Literally.
620. You can neither beat them nor join them. So sorry.
621. You need a hug. But nobody will ever volunteer.
622. The God who created you is dead and will stay that way.
623. Gamble–or let your dog go hungry? You already know which.
624. You have fallen into and been felled by trouble. And you can’t get up.
625. Your dog is dead. Who will love you now?
626. You will be remembered only as a brutal object lesson.
627. Your own dog prefers the company of mangy alleycats to yours.
628. Sometimes you get what you ask for. In your case, early death.
629. Your dog is your worst enemy. Your own dog!
630. That all-day sucker you’re clutching is a lifetime supply.
631. They will find human skull’s under your grandma’s petunia bed.
632. Take off that stupid hat, baldy. Everyone knows.
633. The Big Man wants to burn his brand on your blubbery skin.
634. You are too weak to run and too fat to hide.
635. Mother said there’d be days like this. Not…years.
636. Put down the cake, Fatty. The Big Boss Man don’t like slobs.
637. Listen, Scarface–coppers in every state have memorized your ugly mug.
638. You’re red hot in this town, Crumb. Nobody will hide you.
639. You think you have it bad? Well…actually, you do.
640. Even crack whores scorn your lusty advances.
641. That woman who wrote to you in stir…is a man.
642. Don’t look in the mirror. You’ll see a dead man.
643. The Gypsy refused to read your fortune. Not a good sign.
644. You’ll be buried in a cheap suit for your funeral, Monkey Man.
645. You’ve fallen so low even the gutter doesn’t want you.
646. You will be found in a bedsitter, dead, with a half-eaten potato in your mouth.
647. Even Jesus would laugh at your ridiculous excuses.
648. It’s a dog eat dog world–but you’re a fucking rat.
649. Winos will mistake you for a fellow homeless man.
650. They no longer fear you and they will kick your ass.

2. ROSEMARY
Girls. When I was seven or eight, I just didn’t like ’em. I would watch the Miss America pageant with my mother, and, when Miss Texas or Miss Kentucky would saunter down the runway. I would shock her by saying, “She’s ugly,”

“No, she isn’t,” my mother would say. “Don’t you like girls?”

So I decided I would give girls a chance. There was one who lived in a house on our alley, called Mitre Way, in the Bloomfield section of Pittsburgh. Her name was Rosemary. I have forgotten countless phone calls and baseball scores, but I have always remembered her name. She was short, freckled, slightly pudgy, with green eyes and red hair– though I might have preferred green hair and red eyes.

One hot summer day I saw her in front of her house and I told her to meet me at the flowered arbor maintained by the hillbilly family who lived on our street. She wanted to know what for, and I told her it was a surprise.

I had absorbed the information that for some reason girls expected to be given presents, It seemed like a waste of money to me. But I was determined to make her like me. So there I sat, an hour later, in the broiling sun, waiting for Rosemary, holding two nutty buddies. These were vanilla ice cream cones topped with chocolate and peanuts, Like a chump, I waited under that flowered wooden arch for about twenty minutes, though it seemed like hours. Bees buzzed by, attracted by the two rapidly melting ice cream cones I was holding in each sticky fist. I was deathly afraid of bees. But I persevered.

She never showed up.

So, of course, I ate the nutty buddies myself. And was faintly nauseous for the rest of the afternoon.

As I walked home, I thought, “My father was right. Women are just no damn good.”

3. BAD FRIDAY: A NOVEL
In the spring of 1970 Roy Gobb, a snuffling, closeted, fat, and
indifferent twenty year old, drops out of college and flees the
backwater of Hickory Hollow in the wake of an impending drug bust.

He gulps a handful of goofballs, boards a bus, falls into a stupor,
and staggers off the dirty dog on Treasure Island, where he somehow
gets swept up in a Gay Pride parade hosted by the Red and Black
Carnical and crowded with hoboes, hippies, freaks, barkers, spielers,
performing dogs, drag queens, and assorted morphodites.

As the throng crosses the bridge into Old Town, an angry red-faced man
shouts from the sidelines: “I DON’T CARE IF THEY DO IT, BUT DO THEY
GOTTA BRAG ABOUT IT? ASSFUCKERS!?”

A friendly hippie in full cowboy clown regalia slips thirsty Roy Gobb
a Coca Cola bottle laced with a hefty dose of LSD.

Roy sees the reflection of the Megalopolitan Hotel hard by the Old
Town park lake as a series of brilliantly green and yellow translucent
boxes, and fears he is losing his mind.

He breaks free of the milling throng and begins madly to frolic in a
fountain near the lake. He is convinced that he has been baptized, but
the sky becomes overcast and he begins to shiver from the unaccustomed
cold.

Late in the morning of that Good Friday, while in his delirium, he
seeks refuge in St. Augustine’s Cathedral, where he hears the
following prayer declaimed by a defiantly unreconstructed priest of
the old school.

Let us pray also for the faithless Jews: that Almighty God may remove
the veil from their hearts; so that they too may acknowledge Jesus
Christ our Lord. Almighty and eternal God, who dost not exclude from
thy mercy even Jewish faithlessness: hear our prayers, which we offer
for the blindness of that people; that acknowledging the light of thy
Truth, which is Christ, they may be delivered from their darkness.
Through the same Lord Jesus Christ, who liveth and reigneth with thee
in the unity of the Holy Spirit, God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Roy Gobb becomes intoxicated on communion wine, and the following day
is born again as a devout Roman Catholic, but soon is taken in by a
sinister band of “wandering bishops”.

Various horrendous adventures ensue.

4. TOM CLANCY
…is John LeCarre for drunks.

And the moral of the espionage novel is simply this:

If the knife is twisted very deep into your back then it was probably
your very best friend.

5. GOVERNOR SQUIRT

I actually knew Governor Squirt. Knew him well. He was on the literary
magazine at Ivy.

He was an odd duck, even then.

Odder still when he went to Afghanistan to aid the Mujadheen.

And when he was an advisor to Angola UNITA leader Jonas Savimbi.

And when he compared the estate tax to the holocaust.

And when he married a woman born in Kuwait. He was 50. She was 32. As
per the Muslim formula: A bride should be half a man’s age plus seven.

The Islam thing doesn’t bother me. It ain’t nothing. It doesn’t truly
signify. Governor Squirt has always, but always, had one beady eye
open for the main chance.

People claim that I’m a little nutty. Let me pull your coat, my
brother–I am the calm epitome of rationality next to good ol’
Governor Squirt.

Dunno what happened to him back in ’78, but he has been behaving quite
erratically ever since.

Prior to ’78, he seemed pretty normal, if a bit inhibited. Maybe
that’s why he joined the college literary magazine (on the business
end). Maybe he figured he’d find him a wild bohemian gal who would
help him shed his inhibitions.

After ’78, I dunno–he started in with the weird.

“The facts are that government is not a benevolent charity,” Governor
Squirt said in 1978. “You go to city hall or the post office and what
do you see? Bureaucrats pushing papers, drinking coffee and harassing
the people.”

Sound like he’s simply parroting his Dad, right? But why so outspoken?
He didn’t strike me as anyone who had ever been oppressed as a direct
result of government policies. Why this obsession?

You can see why he veered right. I think he saw that there was going
to be a reaction against the Carter administration and he figured he
was the logical fellow to lead the charge.

It seems to me that everything about his public career simply screams
“Leave me alone!”

But he doesn’t want to be alone.

He has always paradoxically gravitated to like-minded loners.

Something must have scared the shit out of him. His choice of
metaphors reflects this.

His current staff has been keeping a mental list. “The sword of
Damocles, he likes that one a lot…”…[and recall, too] his most
famous [line]: He wants to shrink government so it’s small enough that
he could “drag it into the bathroom and drown it in the bathtub.”

What does that tell you?

It tells me that perhaps all was not exactly shits ‘n’ giggles back at
the childhood manse of Governor Squirt.

Allegedly, “His family were financially comfortable and politically
conservative—once, [his father] took bites out of his children’s Dairy
Joy ice cream cones to demonstrate what taxes took out of the family’s
earnings.”

Um, ‘scuse me, but this type of parental imprinting sounds calculated
to create a syndrome precisely out of one of the case studies of
Krafft-Ebbing.

For instance:

CEREBRAL NEUROSES ANESTHESIA. Case 9.
F. J., aged nineteen, student; mother was
nervous, sister epileptic. At the age of four, acute brain
affection, lasting two weeks. As a child he was not
affectionate, and was cold towards his parents ; as a student
he was peculiar, retiring, preoccupied with self, and given
to much reading. Well endowed mentally. Masturbation
from fifteenth year. Eccentric after puberty, with con-
tinual vacillation between religious enthusiasm and ma-
terialism now studying theology, now natural sciences.
At the university his fellow-students took him for a fool.
He read Jean Paul almost exclusively, and wasted his
time. Absolute absence of sexual feeling toward the op-
posite sex. Once he indulged in intercourse, experienced
no sexual feeling in the act, found coitus absurd, and did
not repeat it. Without any emotional cause whatever, he
often had a thought of suicide. He made it the subject of
a philosophical dissertation, in which he contended that it
was, like masturbation, a justifiable act. After repeated
experiments which he made on himself with various poi-
sons, he attempted suicide with fifty-seven grains of opium,
but he was saved and sent to an asylum.

Patient was destitute of moral and social feelings. His
writings disclosed incredible frivolity and vulgarity. His
knowledge was of a wide range, but his logic peculiarly
distorted. There was no trace of emotionality. He treated
everything (even the sublime) with incomparable cynicism
and irony. He pleaded for the justification of suicide with
false philosophical premises and conclusions, and, as one
would speak of the most indifferent affair, he declared that
he intended to accomplish it. He regretted that his pen-
knife had been taken from him. If he had it, he would
open his veins as Seneca did in the bath. At one time
a friend had given him instead of a poison as he sup-
posed, a cathartic. Instead of sending him to the other
world, it sent him to the water-closet Only the Great
Operator could eradicate his foolish and fatal idea with the
scythe of death, etc.

By the way: “Dairy Joy…cone”?

You literally cannot make this sort of thing up. Big Daddy
government–literally–wants to take big bites out of Governor
Squirt’s manhood?

I dunno.

Seems simplistic, and yet…and yet….

Perhaps we all need to say a prayer.

God help Governor Squirt.

God help us all.

6. BOODY: THE BIZARRE COMICS OF BOODY ROGERS. CRAIG YOE, ED.
I recently read, in Craig Yoe’s newly released anthology of the work
of cartoonist Boody Rogers, the following:

Boody knew a fellow whose nickname was “Fine Comb Shit”.

“[Rogers] explained that Fine Comb Shit got this sweet name when he
and Boody and another kid were walking down a dirt road. Bill, or
whatever his given name was, leaned down and picked up a now filthy
dirty comb that someone had dropped and exclaimed, “I just found a
fine comb!” The other boy disapprovingly shot right back, “fine comb
shit!” Bill didn’t keep the comb, but the epithet stuck.”

7.THE VALUE OF A COLLEGE EDUCATION
On April 21, 2009, Boston Radio Talk Show Host Michael Graham
apparently declared that a college education is actually useless.
http://www.michaelgraham.com/archive.aspx

Why doesn’t some radio shouting head ever come up with the real truth
about a college education?

Namely, this:

Traditionally a college degree:

Indicated that you could work under a deadline.

Indicated that you could speak and behave correctly, and write a
coherent sentence.

To a great extent, it was a credential that indicated that you had, to
some degree, the potential to become socialized in the ways of the
workforce, and were a member of the middle class, or aspired to be.

For the upper classes, who presumably attended elite universities
(thanks in large part to their family connections), it was a parchment
that stated that they were eminently clubbable.

Nowadays, the paradigms have shifted.

Nonetheless, management still clings to the old ways.

Company policies require college degrees for certain job descriptions
as a matter of course. It’s apparently a way of weeding out the
so-called “undesirables,” regardless of their qualifications. If you
have neither the money nor the determination to acquire such a degree,
you operate under a crushing disadvantage.

Ours is a society that clings to the illusion that it is still, to
some degree, a meritocracy. Credentialism is the way in which an
alleged meritocracy keeps score.

It has been also been said, by others who are wiser and have more
experience in this matter, that not just any old college degree will
do. Your major, your degree-granting institution, and the influential
people there who may have acted as your mentors–all of these factors
also help to determine your initial place within the workforce
hierarchy.

But since these guidelines cannot be condensed into a 12-second
know-nothing rant, I imagine they are never even so much as mentioned,
let alone discussed.

8. THE HITLER CHANNEL
Credit Spy Magazine for coming up with the name “the Hitler Channel”
for the History Channel.

Since they went out of business circa 1994, that was quite some time ago.

Incidentally, the History Channel is to the study of History, what a
graham cracker is to a three course meal.

Inadequate.

Distorted, unsourced, and generally full of dubious assertions and
outright fabrications.

9. WHAT YOU LIKE IS WHO YOU ARE
What you like is who you are?

I suspect this is a younger person’s misapprehension of human nature.

Though true, to a certain extent.

There’s no compelling reason to get on your aesthetic high horse if a
prospective g.f. dresses like Annie Hall, or doesn’t know what Fort
Knox is.

There’s no reason to jeer (except inwardly) if a fellow office worker
goes in for slasher flicks, or prefers Rush or Grand Funk Railroad to
XTC.

But it is human nature to sort by artificially generated categories.

Sad, but true.

I talked to a fellow the other night who told me that barbequing with
propane simply isn’t done.

It’s charcoal briquets, or nothing.

I could have pointed out that mesquite wood is better still, but I
thought that I didn’t even care enough to pursue that game.

When needed, code-shifting is the best strategy. I think that it’s
perhaps best to be at least aware of the full array of aesthetic
choices, so, if need by, you can put snobs and bigots in their
rightful place, whether silently or not.

But this whole aesthetic argument–particularly concerning
“middlebrow”– has been a part of American discourse since at least
the late 1940s. Check this out:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Middlebrow

Furthermore, tastemakers are far from immune from this syndrome of
wanting to sort and classify, and from consequently being called to
task for their perceived obviousness and obliviousness.

Bring the snark!
e.g.:
http://nymag.com/daily/entertainment/2007/12/pitchforks_top_100_tracks_of_2.html

Avid partisanship is the epitome of uncool.

But to be a hipster is to be 22 forever.

It all depends on where you want to be on the high affect/low affect scale.

Yet nobody seems to want to face up to the fact that, to a certain
degree, aesthetic taste merely functions as a class marker.

The denial of lower, coarse, vulgar, venal, servile – in a word,
natural – enjoyment, which constitutes the sacred sphere of culture,
implies an affirmation of the superiority of those who can be
satisfied with the sublimated, refined, disinterested, gratuitous,
distinguished pleasures forever closed to the profane. That is why art
and cultural consumption are predisposed, consciously and deliberately
or not, to fulfill a social function of legitimating social
differences. (Bourdieu, 1984:7)

http://books.google.com/books?id=bhhtg1sz0YAC&pg=PA80&lpg=PA80&dq=aesthetic+taste+is,+to+a+certain+degree,+a+class+marker.&source=bl&ots=xlkSn0ppyL&sig=XrSj23TCXJON8Kj_5W1wQWcTPPI&hl=en&ei=K7D_SaPbDoHCtweb8f2TBw&sa=X&oi=book_result&ct=result&resnum=2

What it all comes down to is this:

When monkeys begin to act strange the other monkeys will bite them.

10. WORDS ASSOCIATED WITH CHRISTIANITY AND BRITISH HISTORY TAKEN OUT OF A CHILDREN’S DICTIONARY

[The children are told the same sentences regularly, while they sleep,
again and again.] “But old clothes are beastly, we always throw away
old clothes. Ending is better than mending. Ending is better …. The
more stitches, the less riches, the more stitches … I love new
clothes, I love new clothes, I love …”–Aldous Huxley, BRAVE NEW
WORLD

OUT:
Carol, cracker, holly, ivy, mistletoe

Dwarf, elf, goblin

Abbey, aisle, altar, bishop, chapel, christen, disciple, minister,
monastery, monk, nun, nunnery, parish, pew, psalm, pulpit, saint, sin,
devil, vicar

Coronation, duchess, duke, emperor, empire, monarch, decade

adder, ass, beaver, boar, budgerigar, bullock, cheetah, colt, corgi,
cygnet, doe, drake, ferret, gerbil, goldfish, guinea pig, hamster,
heron, herring, kingfisher, lark, leopard, lobster, magpie, minnow,
mussel, newt, otter, ox, oyster, panther, pelican, piglet, plaice,
poodle, porcupine, porpoise, raven, spaniel, starling, stoat, stork,
terrapin, thrush, weasel, wren.

Acorn, allotment, almond, apricot, ash, bacon, beech, beetroot,
blackberry, blacksmith, bloom, bluebell, bramble, bran, bray, bridle,
brook, buttercup, canary, canter, carnation, catkin, cauliflower,
chestnut, clover, conker, county, cowslip, crocus, dandelion, diesel,
fern, fungus, gooseberry, gorse, hazel, hazelnut, heather, holly,
horse chestnut, ivy, lavender, leek, liquorice, manger, marzipan,
melon, minnow, mint, nectar, nectarine, oats, pansy, parsnip, pasture,
poppy, porridge, poultry, primrose, prune, radish, rhubarb, sheaf,
spinach, sycamore, tulip, turnip, vine, violet, walnut, willow

IN:
Blog, broadband, MP3 player, voicemail, attachment, database, export,
chatroom, bullet point, cut and paste, analogue

Celebrity, tolerant, vandalism, negotiate, interdependent, creep,
citizenship, childhood, conflict, common sense, debate, EU, drought,
brainy, boisterous, cautionary tale, bilingual, bungee jumping,
committee, compulsory, cope, democratic, allergic, biodegradable,
emotion, dyslexic, donate, endangered, Euro

Apparatus, food chain, incisor, square number, trapezium,
alliteration, colloquial, idiom, curriculum, classify, chronological,
block graph

11. THE TYSON WIT

“I really dig Hannibal. Hannibal had real guts. He
rode elephants into Cartilage.”

“I guess I’m gonna fade into Bolivian.”

“I can sell out Madison Square Garden masturbating.”

“I’m on the Zoloft to keep from killing y’all.”

“[He] called me a ‘rapist’ and a ‘recluse.’ I’m not a
recluse.”

“Lennox Lewis, I’m coming for you man. My style is
impetuous. My defense is impregnable, and I’m just
ferocious. I want your heart. I want to eat his
children. Praise be to Allah!”

“My main objective is to be professional but to kill
him.”

“I want to rip out his heart and feed it to him
[Lennox Lewis]. I want to kill people. I want to rip
their stomachs out and eat their children.”

“This is my career. I have children to raise. I have
to retaliate. He butted me. Look at me. My kids will
be scared of me.”

To Razor Ruddock: “You’re sweet. I’m going to make
sure you kiss me good with those big lips. I’m gonna
make you my girlfriend.”

On Tyrell Biggs: “He was screaming like my wife.”

“Anyone with a grain of sense would know that if I
punched my wife I would rip her head off.”

“I left the crate on my stoop and went in to get
something and I returned to see the sanitation man put
the crate into the crusher. I rushed him and caught
him flush on the temple with a titanic right hand he
was out cold, convulsing on the floor like a infantile
retard.”

“I take my hand off to him.”

“I try to catch him right on the tip of the nose,
because I try to push the bone into the brain.”

“How dare these boxers challenge me with their
primitive skills? It makes me angry.”

“My power is discombobulatingly devastating I could
feel is muscle tissues collapse under my force. It’s
ludicrous these mortals even attempt to enter my
realm.”

“I want to throw down your kid and stomp on his
testicles, and then you will know what it is like to
experience waking up everyday as me. And only then
will you feel my pain.”

[To a female reporter] “It’s no doubt I am going to
win this fight and I feel confident about winning this
fight. I normally don’t do interviews with women
unless I fornicate with them. So you shouldn’t talk
anymore… Unless you want to, you know.”

“If I take this camera and put it in your face for 20
years, I don’t know what you might be. You might be a
homosexual if I put that camera on you since you were
13 years old. I’ve been on that camera since I was 13
years old.”

“All praise is to Allah, I’ll fight any man, any
animal, if Jesus were here I’d fight him too.”

NEXT ISSUE: “I CURED MY YELLOW TEETH”

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THE INFORMATION #1009 SEPTEMBER 7, 2018

THE INFORMATION #1009
SEPTEMBER 7, 2018
Copyright 2018 FRANCIS DIMENNO
dimenno@gmail.com
https://dimenno.wordpress.com

It is difficult for a woman to define her feelings in language which is chiefly made by men to express theirs.–Thomas Hardy

WHEN THIS WORLD CATCHES FIRE
BOOK THREE: SAVAGE NOXTOWN
CHAPTER TWELVE: PART TWENTY-SIX: THE EASTERN GATE OF PARADISE

“Miss Big Tiny Small, the carnival fat lady,” said Sam Floyd to young Victor Justin, “made it out in the title of her book that she was some kind of Patroness of the Fine Arts, which was a load of sheer hooey from start to finish and back again.”

The only arts she knowed of were the culinary ones, and even there she warn’t any too p’ticular, as she would shovel the most astonishing things into her gaping maw: duck’s blood soup, soft-shell crabs, grits and gravy, pickled pigs’ feet, fried green tomatoes, watermelon rinds, haggis, raw oysters, fried mushrooms, cockles and mussels, caviar, blood sausages–it was all the same to her. Watching her wolf down that slop was like watching a tornado ravage a country village. The way she tore into them vittles would surely be enough to make the angels weep, and cause the devil to beat his wife. Nor was she satisfied with her share–no, even all the while she was eating off’n her platter, she was also enviously gaping over at your’n, to see if maybe you might leave a speck of bread and gravy that she could swoop up like a chicken hawk carrying off a squirrel. Speaking of which, squirrel brains fried in scrambled eggs was one of her favorite meals. Many’s the time she sent me off with a rifle on the hunt for that particular delicacy. Just a fucking hillbilly–that’s all she was and all she ever will be, in spite of all her aristocratic sawney airs.

As for her loving the fine arts, why, that’s the biggest stretcher of them all. As for music, she listened to the sort of sentimental slop that even a careworn shop-girl would disdain as too syrupy-sweet–stuff like “We Sat Beneath the Maple on the Hill”, “Old Rosin the Bow,” and “Home Sweet Home.” Many’s the time I would see her settin’ on her big fortified chair, a-listenin’ to the gals conducting a singalong. She never contributed to these little gatherings other than to watch–thank the powers that be. For her own singin’ voice was fittin’ only to drive snakes away.

As for her taste in art masterpieces, why, if the sort of art you hanker after happens to be the kind of thing you would favor hanging on the outhouse wall so that you kin look at it while whiling away your time in dropping a heavy load, then I suppose her taste in daubings might suit you. What she liked were renditions of mewing kittens shortly before they were to be mercifully drowned. Or a picture of a snoopy angel, poking its nose into the prayer offering of a lisping infant dressed in a muslin nightshirt and kneeling beside a bed covered in a snow-white duvet. Or a loving depiction of a bowl of glistering fruit. Or a glowing portrait in which Christ Jesus, bleeding from every orifice, is hovering over the apotheosized effigies of Washington, Lincoln, and James Abram Garfield. Or ghastly chromolithographs of a sullen farmer with a gleaming pitchfork listlessly staring out at endless bales of hay. Or sickly paintings of poorly-drawn clowns whose hearts are breaking for one damn reason or t’other.

I’ll tell you all she knows about art–and how dumb she was. I once saw her eat a whole tin of Oxo bouillion cubes, with the little ox on the front, and later she remarked that “It’s funny, but in my opinion, that Ox didn’t taste very good–it was rather too salty!”

As for the other claims she makes in the title of her book–that she’s any kind of:
ENTERTAINER, LADY REPORTER, TEMPERANCE ADVOCATE, CRUSADER FOR THE RIGHTS OF WOMANKIND, BENEFACTOR OF THE POOR, DEFENDER OF THE HELPLESS, FRIEND TO ORPHANS, COMFORTER OF THE SICK, PATRON TO THE LAME AND HALT, FRIEND TO THE BLIND, SHINING LIGHT TO THE FEEBLE-MINDED, AND LOVER OF HUMANITY?

Entertainer? Let’s give her that. It was great fun watching her wheezing to beat the band as she tremulously took her place on the teeterin’ platform with all the other freaks. Lady reporter? Nellie Bly she ain’t. Crusader of the rights of womankind? Yes, if it means, “Crusader of the rights of womankind to eat more pie.” Benefactor of the poor? She wouldn’t give you the skin off a potato even if you was starvin’. Of that I’m sure. Defender of the helpless? I never saw it. Comforter of the sick? On the contrary–she MADE people sick just to look at her. Patron to the lame and halt? Why, she wouldn’t even give the time of day to a crippled-up old grandpaw. Friend to the blind? I suppose the only friends she ever had were people who couldn’t stare upon and be repulsed by her loathsome visage. Shining light to the feeble minded? Maybe. After all, she was rather feeble-minded her own self. Friend to humanity? Ha! Ho! I knew her of old. Why, if she had her way, the world could go plumb straight to hell, leaving only her in it. And three or four lackeys, maybe, to cater to her every overstuffed whim.

Most of her claims in that so-called book of hers were such brazen falsehoods on their very face that they were enough to put the blush to a brass monkey. They ain’t even worthy of refutation! And, as far as that other business of her being some kind of poetess of the midway, for all she knows about poetry, she probably thinks Browning is some kind of cooking technique. And that Suckling refers to some kind of roasted pig with an apple in its mouth. And that Whitman is a box of mouth-watering chocolate candy.

That woman was as ignorant as the day is long–and yet she thought she knew it all. Ain’t that just the way?

T’was ever thus.

As for me having to love her up, that was a farce. She wouldn’t even get undressed, so she never parted with her maidenhead. And my guess is, she hasn’t done so to this very day. It’s likely the reason she was so goddamn mean. After all, what hubby’s fond caresses could ever feel as good as demolishin’ a heapin’ helpin’ of toothsome vittles?

1* SALUTATION
THE FALL
DISNEY’S DREAM DEBASED

2* REFERENCE
GENDER QUOTES
https://www.brainyquote.com/topics/gender
https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/tag/gender
https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/tag/gender-roles
http://www.famousquotes123.com/gender-quotes.html

3*HUMOR
S.J. PERELMAN
CAPTAIN FUTURE, BLOCK THAT KICK!
“But the moon!” Elaine exclaimed, deep repulsion shadowing her eyes. “That barren, airless globe that no one ever visits!” Elaine’s dainty disgust is pardonable; Far Rockaway out of season could not have been more painfully vieux jeu.
nebushumor.wordpress.com/2013/03/06/s-j-perelman-captain-future-block-that-kick/

4*NOVELTY
CLASSIC COMICS
UNCLE TOM’S CABIN
http://atocom.blogspot.com/2012/02/reading-room-uncle-toms-cabin-part-1.html
http://atocom.blogspot.com/2012/02/reading-room-uncle-toms-cabin-part-2.html
http://atocom.blogspot.com/2012/02/reading-room-uncle-toms-cabin.html

5*AVATAR OF THE ZEITGEIST
THE JUKES AND THE KALLIKAKS
“Three generations of imbeciles are enough.” — Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr
http://www.enews.tech/feeble-minded-definition.html

THE KALLIKAK FAMILY
http://www.wikiwand.com/en/The_Kallikak_Family

THE JUKES
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jukes_family

THE KALLIKAKS (SITCOM)
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Kallikaks

SEE ALSO:
JAKE LEG
https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2003/09/15/jake-leg

ALSO SEE:
It Took A Eugenicist To Come Up With ‘Moron'”
At the time, psychologists lumped people with cognitive disabilities in three broad categories: “idiot,” “imbecile” and “feeble-minded” (“feeble-minded” being the least severe). Goddard thought the word was imprecise and unscientific, so he created a replacement. Borrowing a Greek root meaning “dull” or “foolish,” he coined the term “moron.” (It is worth stating the obvious: Today, none of these words are appropriate as medical terms.)”

https://www.npr.org/sections/codeswitch/2014/02/10/267561895/it-took-a-eugenicist-to-come-up-with-moron

SEE ALSO:
LOU REED
KILL YOUR SONS

SEE:
WHITE TRASH: THE EUGENICS FAMILY STUDIES 1877-1919
https://books.google.com/books/about/White_Trash.html?id=wdgnAAAAYAAJ

War Against the Weak: Eugenics and America’s Campaign to Create a Master Race, Expanded Edition

6* DAILY UTILITY
WORST COLLEGES
Don’t squander money by taking out loans to go to a shitty college.
collegemeltdown.blogspot.com/2018/08/the-slow-motion-collapse-of-americas.html
collegemeltdown.blogspot.com/

7*CARTOON
NORM SAUNDERS
http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10217250302716368&set=gm.1032380200264224&type=3&theater

8*PRESCRIPTION
MICKEY ROONEY’S WACKY BUSINESSES
thelifeandtimesofhollywood.com/mickey-rooneys-wacko-businesses-from-mickeys-weenie-world-to-mickeys-tip-offs-disposable-bras-how-mickey-took-100-million-in-earnings-and-ended-up-with-only-18000-at-his/

ALSO SEE:
MEN OF BOYS TOWN
https://ok.ru/video/287229414051

9* RUMOR PATROL
MUSIC BANNED IN SOVIET UNION
https://history.blogberth.com/2018/05/31/ac-dc-got-banned-for-spreading-neofascism-and-heres-a/

ALSO SEE:
KOGAR’S BIG THRILL-O-RAMA TRASH SHOW #2

10*LAGNIAPPE
ARE YOU FROM DIXIE?
I first saw this song performed by Peter Stampfel and Steve Weber (The Holy Modal Rounders) at the long-gone Idler in Harvard Square back in 1980. It’s a delightful song, in all of its iterations. It is described as “A good tune written back in 1915 for the Vaudeville era shows, by two well known writers of the time, Jack Yellen as the lyrist and George Cobb composing.”

GRANDPA JONES
ARE YOU FROM DIXIE?

BLUE RIDGE ENTERTAINERS (2014)
ARE YOU FROM DIXIE?

THE PRAIRIE RAMBLERS (1936)
ARE YOU FROM DIXIE?

BLUE SKY BOYS (1936)
ARE YOU FROM DIXIE?

JERRY REED (1969)
ARE YOU FROM DIXIE?

JOHN FAHEY (1987)
ARE YOU FROM DIXIE?

BILLY MURRAY (1916)
ARE YOU FROM DIXIE?

11*DEVIATIONS FROM THE PREPARED TEXT: A REVIEW OF OTHER MEDIA
WILLIAM BURROUGHS
[Burroughs] graduated from Harvard with a degree in English literature. He was known for being that “quiet guy” on campus who could always be found playing with his gun (a .32 revolver).
roofbeamreader.com/2013/06/07/fridays-featured-beat-william-s-burroughs/

I wish I could find the source for the following anecdote.

Someone once pulled a knife on Burroughs in a bar. He mildly said, “Don’t you know that I’m a Boy Scout?”

The response: “So what?”

Burroughs: “Do you know what the Boy Scout motto is?”

“No.”

Burroughs replies, “Be prepared.” And he pulls out a .32 revolver.

Burroughs was influenced at an early age by this fascinating book, which I heartily recommend:
http://www.amazon.com/You-Cant-Win-Jack-Black/dp/1936239612

ALSO SEE:
Advice for Young People Lyrics
William Burroughs.

I am sometimes asked if I have any words of advice for young people.
Well, here are a few simple admonitions for young and old, man and beast.

Never interfere in a boy and girl fight.

Beware of whores who say they don’t want money. The hell they don’t.

What they mean is that they want more money; much more, these are the most expensive whores what can be got.

If you’re doing business with a religious son of a bitch, get it in writing; his word isn’t worth shit, not with the good Lord telling him how to fuck you on the deal.

If, after having been exposed to someone’s presence, you feel as if you’ve lost a quart of plasma, avoid that presence. You need it like you need pernicious anemia.

We don’t like to hear the word “vampire” around here; we’re trying to improve our public image. Building a kindly, avuncular, benevolent image; “interdependence” is the keyword — “enlightened interdependence”.

Life in all its rich variety, take a little, leave a little. However, by the inexorable logistics of the vampiric process they always take more than they leave — and why, indeed, should they take any?

Avoid fuck-ups. Fools, I call them. You all know the type — no matter how good it sounds, everything they have anything to do with turns into a disaster. Trouble for themselves and everyone connected with them.
A fool is bad news, and it rubs off — don’t let it rub off on you.

Do not proffer sympathy to the mentally ill; it is a bottomless pit. Tell them firmly, “I am not paid to listen to this drivel — you are a terminal fool!” Otherwise, they make you as crazy as they are.

Above all, avoid confirmed criminals. They are a special malignant strain of fool.

*11A BOOKS READ AND REVIEWED
99 WAYS TO TELL A STORY. MADDEN. ****1/2
ALAN’S WAR. GUIBERT. ****1/2
ALGERIA IS BEAUTIFUL LIKE AMERICA, BURTON & GRAND. ****
AM I THERE YET? ANDREW. ***
ANIMUS. REVOY. ****
ASTRAL WEEKS. WALSH. ****1/2
AVENGERS. INFINITY WAR PRELUDE. ***
THE BIG EMPTY LIFE OF ALPHONSE TABOURET. ***1/2
BINGO LOVE. FRANKLIN ETAL. ***1/2
BLACK PANTHER: AVENGERS OF THE NEW WORLD PART 2. ***1/2
CAPTAIN HARLOCK: THE CLASSIC COLLECTION. MATSUMOTO. ***1/2
CHAMPIONS CLASSIC: THE COMPLETE COLLECTION. **1/2
CLOAK & DAGGER. RUNAWAYS & REVERSALS. ***
COIN-OP COMICS ANTHOLOGY. 1997-2017. ***1/2
COMPLETE DICK TRACY 17: 1957-1959. ****1/2
COMPLETE DICK TRACY 18: 1956-1957. ****1/2
COMPLETE DICK TRACY 19: 1959-1961. ****1/2
COMPLETE DICK TRACY 21: 1962-1964. ****
COMPLETE DICK TRACY 17: 1964-1965. ****
DAM KEEPER 2. WORLD WITHOUT DARKNESS. ***
THE DEAD EYE & THE DEEP BLUE SEA. PRAM. ****1/2
DEADPOOL VS. OLD MAN LOGAN. ***1/2
DEPT. H. 4. LIFEBOAT. KINDT. ****1/2
THE DOORS. MARCUS. ****
EIGHT MILLION DAYS TO DIE. BLOCK & SNYDER. ****
EVERYTHING YOU LOVE WILL BURN. TENOLD. ****
FAB 4 MANIA. TYLER. ****
FROM HELL. MOORE. *****
GEORGE ORWELL ILLUSTRATED. SMITH & MOSHER. ****1/2
THE GHOST SCRIPT. FEIFFER. ****1/2
GODHEAD. ANDERSON. ****
GOODBYE TO THE PAST. BURNETT. ****
GOTHAM CITY GARAGE 1. ***1/2
THE GRAVE DIGGERS UNION 1. CRAIG, ETAL. ***1/2
THE GREATEST MINDS & IDEAS OF ALL TIMES. DURANT. ***1/2
GREEN ALMONDS: LETTERS FROM PALESTINE. HERMANS. ****
HARDBOILED AMERICA. O’BRIEN. ****
HARROW COUNTY 7. DARK TIMES A’COMING. BUNN & CRROK. ***1/2
THE HAWK & THE DOVE: THE SILVER AGE. **1/2
HELLBOY OMNIBUS V. 2. STRANGE PLACES. MIGNOLA. ****
HOW THE BEATLES DESTROYED ROCK & ROLL. WALD. ****1/2
HUNTING CHARLES MANSON. WIEHL. ***
JESSICA JONES 3. RETURN OF THE PURPLE MAN. ****1/2
THE JETSONS 1. ***1/2
THE LIE & HOW WE TOLD IT. PARRISH. ***
LUISA, NOW & THEN. MAUREL. ***1/2
MARVEL LEGACY COMPANION. ***
MILK & CHEESE: DAIRY PRODUCTS GONER MAD. DORKIN. ***1/2
MONSTERS. DAHL. ****
THE MUSHROOM FAN CLUB. GRAVEL. ***1/2
MUST WE DEFEND NAZIS? DELGADO & STEFANCIC. ***1/2
NEW MUTANTS: DEMON BEAR. **
NIGHTWING: THE NEW ORDER. ***
NIGHTWING 5. RAPTOR’S REVENGE.***
NIOURK. VATINE. ****1/2
ORPHANS 1. THE BEGINNING. ****1/2
POLITICAL TRIBES. CHUA. ****1/2
PRANKSTERS! MCLEOD. ****
A QUICK & EASY GUIDE TO THEY/THEM PRONOUNS. ***
THE RED HOOK. HASPIEL. **
SLEEPLESS 1. VAUGHN. ****
SOCRATES: A MAN FOR OUR TIMES. JOHNSON. ****1/2
SPECTACLE 1. GEDRIS.
SPILL ZONE 2. THE BROKEN VOW. ***1/2
SPY SECRETS THAT CAN CHANGE YOUR LIFE. HANSON. ***1/2
SUPER LATE BLOOMER. KAYE. ***
SUPERGIRL 1. BEING SUPER. ***1/2
SURVIVE LIKE A SPY. HANSON. ***1/2
TACITUS: THE HISTORIES. ****1/2
TEEN TITANS 2. JOHNS. ***1/2
THANOS: THE INFINITY SIBLINGS. ***1/2
TOTALLY RANDOM. BUB & BUB. ****
TRUMPOCRACY. FRUM. ****
UNCANNY AVENGERS UNITY 5. STARS & GARTERS. ***1/2
THE UNIVERSAL BASEBALL ASSN….COOVER. ****
VENOM: LETHAL PROTECTOR 1. **1/2
VENOM: LETHAL PROTECTOR 3. BLOOD IN THE WATER. ***
THE VOYEURS. BELL. ****
WE ATE WONDER BREAD. HOLLANDER. ***
WHY ART? DAVIS. ****
WONDER WOMAN 5. HEART OF THE AMAZON. ***1/2
X-MEN BLUE 4. CRY HAVOK. ***1/2
X-MEN GOLD 3. MOJO WORLDWIDE. ***1/2
X-MEN GOLD 4. THE NEGATIVE ZONE WAR. ***1/2
X-MEN GOLD 5. CRUEL & UNUSUAL. ***1/2

12* CONTROVERSIES IN POPULAR CULTURE
THE PROBLEM WITH GUNS
There seems to be a certain mentality that is drawn to guns. Gun owners and gun-lovers, in general, constitute a distinct tribe which has its own ideology and ethos.
https://www.salon.com/2017/10/03/americas-big-problem-with-guns-our-gun-industry-profits-from-fear-and-death/

THE INFORMATION #1008 AUGUST 31, 2018

THE INFORMATION #1008
AUGUST 31, 2018
Copyright 2018 FRANCIS DIMENNO
dimenno@gmail.com
https://dimenno.wordpress.com

Oh that one would hear me! behold, my desire is, that the Almighty would answer me, and that mine adversary had written a book. –Job 31:35

WHEN THIS WORLD CATCHES FIRE
BOOK THREE: SAVAGE NOXTOWN
CHAPTER TWELVE: PART TWENTY-F1VE: THE EASTERN GATE OF PARADISE

I was telling you about that “book” the fat lady said she wrote. Turns out, she didn’t even write it herself. She dictated it in an afternoon to some drunken carpenter who had lost his flipper in the War of Northern Aggression, and he done the job for booze money. The book was full of the sort of high-flown and high-falutin’ language you might expect from a man with his head full of the fumes of strong drink. The prose was so purple it would of caused a riot in a laughing academy. It had a long, long handle–even though this was once the fashion, the title was simply.. excessive. To the best of my recollection, it went something like this:

MY LIFE AS A CELEBRATED PERFORMER, TEMPERANCE ADVOCATE, LADY REPORTER, CRUSADER FOR THE RIGHTS OF WOMANKIND, BENEFACTRESS OF THE POOR, DEFENDER OF THE HELPLESS, FRIEND TO ORPHANS, COMFORTER OF THE SICK, PATRON TO THE LAME AND HALT, SHINING LIGHT TO THE BLIND, STAUNCH DEFENDER OF THE FEEBLE-MINDED, & LOVER OF ALL HUMANITY. AND, ADDITIONALLY, AN ACCOUNT OF MY CAREER AS ENTERTAINER TO ROYALTY, COMPANION TO PRESIDENTS, COUNSELOR TO PHILANTHROPISTS, CONFIDANTE TO PRIME MINISTERS AND OTHER HIGH OFFICIALS, AND PATRONESS OF THE FINE ARTS, BY MISS SMALL, “POETESS TO THE MIDWAY,” & PROFESSIONAL SEER AND PROPHETRESS

Just about everything in that book of hers was a damnable lie, right down to the claim on the inside of the front page that it was “newly revised and expanded”. If I found out she’d added so much as three words to the so-called “second edition” I would drop dead in stupefied amazement. It’s a wonder the paper didn’t smolder and burst into flames in the printing presses and melt them to a heap of worthless slag metal, on account of all the fucking lies that were in it, just in the title alone. Where can you even start to put the test to her outrageous claims? Begin at the beginning, as philosophers like to say. Just as a preface, if she ever gave one hoot in hell about anybody other than herself, then Wuxtry Wuxtry And Stop The Presses, because it’s certainly news to me. To me, and to any other unfortunate who has ever wobbled into her queasy ambit.

“Entertainer to Kings and Queens? Haww…! The closest she ever got to a king ner a queen was on a greasy deck of playing cards, or maybe she was referring to her daily habits of putting away a king-sized feast and dozing in a queen-sized bed.

As for her claim to be some sort of “companion to Presidents,” why, she was so fat they couldn’t even roll her through the White House door. Why, even a fortified steel boxcar was once seen to tremble beneath the weight of her immense bulk! Never mind a room full of antiques! Anyway, the poor President would need nerves of steel to receive her in the Oval Office, lest she damage the floorboards of that venerable mansion with her gargantuan footfalls. And tell me something else–what would an ignorant fat lady have to say to the Commander-in-Chief of the armed forces and Chief Executive of the Land? What would she have to say that would be of any profound consequence regarding the nation’s business? The high price of cake, candy, and ice-cream? Our President, as I understand it, doesn’t ordinarily take time out from his busy schedule to exchange pleasantries with a snappish fat midget-woman. Maybe fat old Chet Arthur would of wanted his photograph taken with her–a gal of her heft would make a man like him look downright puny. No, really, tell me–will the current President take such a shine to her that he will offer to ask Congress to make her the 44th State? Will this mean that Wyoming will just have to wait its turn? Maybe she could give tips to the President’s wife on how to cook a delicious meal with lard, suet, pork cracklin’s, and coconut oil.

And as for being any kind of “Counselor to Philanthropists,” why, I wouldn’t trust her to run a pie wagon without her sucking down the entire inventory in one fell swoop–let alone depend on her to tell a businessman how to invest his money to help the needy. Why, what the fat lady knew about giving to the needy would scarcely fill the thimble where you could also stuff her brains. If Andy Carnegie had listened to her, instead of building libraries he might instead of built a candy factory on every street corner, and arranged to hand out free taffy apples to all the starving masses. What I wouldn’t give for one-tenth of that woman’s sheer gall! The only counsel I ever heerd her give was that Cookie the Cook should pile still more scrumptious morsels onto her already groaning plate. It’s a wonder they don’t simply shovel her comestibles into a large trough and tell her to go at it with both hands! I would rather attend my own funeral as the guest of honor than to ever watch that woman eat.

Aand, as far as her bein’ “Confidante to Prime Ministers,” now, there’s a hot one. I can well imagine what they would make of her in old Blighty. It’s a known fact, just from lookin’ at the postcards, that all the women there start out as shapely and willowy young lasses, but the invigoratin’ cold breezes which bless that foggy isle soon turn most of ’em into chuffing blimps and torpid lumpkins and blithering porkers. I imagine that Big Tiny Small would be nominated to be the Faery Queen of the well-endowed. Or maybe she could take the lead role as Falstaff’s sister. But what am I saying, “the lead role”? With her thunderin’ around, there wouldn’t be hardly any room on the stage! The other players would all have to do their speechifyin’ from the orchestra pit. And if the audience en masse hurled eggs and rotten fruit, why, it would all be sucked into her capacious maw and welcomed as a light refreshment!

Why in the name of Lucifer did that infernal midget woman always have to give herself such airs!

1* SALUTATION
MOBY GRAPE
THE LAKE

ALSO SEE:
MOBY GRAPE [1ST LP]

SKIP SPENCE
OAR

2* REFERENCE
FIRE AND ICE: CHINESE TRANSLATION
Some people say that the world will end with flames.
Some people say ice.
From the taste I have tasted
I support those who like fire.
But if it has to die twice,
I think I know it is very annoying.
Say to destroy ice
Also great
And it is enough.

3*HUMOR
MAD: WHAT, ME FUNNY?
A remarkably realistic National Lampoon parody of the venerable satire magazine

Their art director at the time, Michael C. Gross, probably had something to do with that.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michael_C._Gross

Full text here:
http://johnglenntaylor.blogspot.com/2009/12/what-me-funny.html

ALSO SEE:
http://kittysneezes.com/2010/01/12/what-me-funny-the-national-lampoon-mad-parody-577/

SEE ALSO:
THE LIGHTER SIDE OF COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT
http://www.tcj.com/my-friend-dave/

4*NOVELTY
BEST COVER OF “HEY JOE”

5*AVATAR OF THE ZEITGEIST
A DUM DUM FOR A DUM DUM
https://triblive.com/local/westmoreland/14000049-74/westmoreland-couples-lawsuit-against-maker-of-dum-dums-not-motivated-by-financial

SEE ALSO:
IGGY POP
DUM DUM BOYS

ALSO SEE:
COCONUT OIL IS PURE POISON
https://www.theguardian.com/food/2018/aug/22/coconut-oil-is-pure-poison-says-harvard-professor

ALSO SEE:
FEMALE OPIOID EPIDEMIC
http://www.marieclaire.com/health-fitness/a19685213/heroin-addicts-female-opioid-epidemic/

SEE ALSO:
STARBUCKS
The rituals, the jargon, the damnable expense, the cult-like slavish devotion…all are signs. Starbucks is for people who wish they still used illegal drugs.

6* DAILY UTILITY
MAXIM
Maxim is Esquire for douchebags.
But every once in a while even Maxim features something interesting.
RUSSIAN SLAPPING CONTEST
http://www.maxim.com/sports/russian-slapping-competition-2018-8

7*CARTOON
WHAT EVERY GOOD CATHOLIC SHOULD KNOW

ALSO SEE:
DR. SMITH’S INSULTS
http://irwinallen.wikia.com/wiki/Dr._Smith%27s_Insults

SEE ALSO:
JERRY LEWIS
THE DELICATE DELINQUENT [TRAILER]

8*PRESCRIPTION
HOW SCHIZOPHRENIA AFFECTS THOUGHTS AND BEHAVIORS
https://www.webmd.com/schizophrenia/ss/slideshow-schizophrenia-overview?ecd=socpd_fb_nosp_1835_ss_cm1099_conmkt

9* RUMOR PATROL
WHO NEEDS DEMOCRACY WHEN YOU HAVE DATA?
https://www.technologyreview.com/s/611815/who-needs-democracy-when-you-have-data/

ALSO SEE:
ONLINE SHOPPING AND THE ACCUMULATION OF JUNK
https://www.theatlantic.com/technology/archive/2018/08/online-shopping-and-accumulation-of-junk/567985/

10*LAGNIAPPE
THE WHO IS SO OLD THAT…
They need some new song titles

1921 (I Remember it Vividly)
A Lethal Matter
Amazing Journey to My Scooter
Cobwebs and More Cobwebs
Cut What’s Left of My Hair
Did You Steal My Medication?
Doctor? Doctor? Who Is that young man?
Getting a Tube
I Can’t Even See for Inches
La-La-La-Laser Surgery
Medic
Diaper Must Change
Won’t Get Fugued Again

SEE ALSO:
THE WHO
BATMAN

ALSO SEE:
IGGY POP
BATMAN

SEE ALSO:
JAN AND DEAN
BATMAN

This is the first album I ever bought. I still have it.
JAN AND DEAN MEET BATMAN
THE JOKER IS WILD

11*DEVIATIONS FROM THE PREPARED TEXT: A REVIEW OF OTHER MEDIA
USEFUL PHRASES FOR ESL SPEAKERS
Old people belong in hell
I is someone else
It’s Not Your Grandfather’s fascism
Who Said Dat Word Fuck?
Ahoy there, Jesus!
Everything Is Love, Charlie!
Relax, Love, Messiah is Coming
My God I’m Tough
Let Love Be Obeyed
Touche, Douche
There were white slaves too, you know!
My lady boner is set to zero!
Smell My Coke Nail, Booger Boy
Tiger Hand Beats Rock!
My favorite prostitute is your wife
A Bagel With Everything, and step on it!
Show me your famous Rope Trick Mr. Gacy
Get out of the way, Fatty. Real he-men are talking.

12* CONTROVERSIES IN POPULAR CULTURE
RIGHTEOUS INDIGNATION
My theory is that it’s very tribal. Righteous indignation induces a biochemical high from a combination of oxytocin and testosterone, which combine to induce aggressive action. See Ian Robertson, The Winner Effect.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ian_Robertson_(psychologist)

ALSO SEE:
POLICE MYTHS
http://www.urbo.com/content/police-myths-busted-by-real-cops/?rtg=3166-urbo-7728¶m4=urbo-fni-fbss-3166-us-de-ocpm¶m5=10154383474101186¶m6=23842927201690652

SEE ALSO:
Florida Man Arrested For Hanging On Traffic Light And Shitting On Cars Passing Underneath
http://www.huzlers.com/florida-man-arrested-for-hanging-on-traffic-light-and-shtting-on-cars-passing-underneath/

THE INFORMATION #1007 AUGUST 24, 2018

THE INFORMATION #1007
AUGUST 24, 2018
Copyright 2018 FRANCIS DIMENNO
dimenno@gmail.com
https://dimenno.wordpress.com

Greed has taken the whole universe, and nobody is worried about their soul. –Little Richard

WHEN THIS WORLD CATCHES FIRE
BOOK THREE: SAVAGE NOXTOWN
CHAPTER TWELVE: PART TWENTY-FOUR: THE EASTERN GATE OF PARADISE

It was just about the time that I was with Colonel Gentleman’s Red & Black Carnival & Circus and was told to make love to Big Tiny Small, the world’s fattest midget woman, that I picked up all sorts of bad habits. We all know that young men will drink to excess–well, I drank so much that I made myself sick, even though, before and after that time, I touched nary so much as a wee drop. And I also went overboard with gambling–losing my money at crooked Faro games, to a passel of carny card sharps and cheats–even though I knew better. Plus, I was taking crazy chances that most young men my age would blanch at–even if they did have a reputation for being insanely brave and considered it a point of honor to accept outlandish wagers and dares. I would climb the highest tower, dive from off the highest cliff into the murky waters of an unknown quarry, and give sass back to even the biggest and meanest lot louse. I was headed either for the penitentiary or the morgue, and maybe both–because that woman was impossible. I have learned since that most married men soon learn to take the hectoring demands of their shrewish wives with great good humor and a goodly grain of salt. But I was stuck with pleasin’ a woman who had delusions of grandeur and thought that everybody worshipped the ground she walked on, when, secretly, they all hated the very sight of her like the veritable poison.

I had become the thing that was dreaded by every man in the carnival hierarchy. I was a chump. Lower than the geek, and that was goin’ some, because when he was given the proper motivation–namely, a pint of rotgut–there is nothing he would not do. Unspeakable things. I will leave those to your imagination. The geek would put things in his mouth that normal men wouldn’t even want to look at, let alone go near. I grew up on a farm, y’know, and I’ve seen many disgusting things. Cows calving; pigs eating their young; dozens of baby chicks burned alive. But the things a geek would do could turn even my cast-iron stomach inside-out. Yet things got so bad with the midget woman that I even started in to envying the geek. His job was simple. Do something horrible that no sane man would even contemplate–then collect his bottle and drink himself to oblivion on his sweet-smelling bed of excelsior. My job, I got to thinkin’–a dangerous habit–was far, far worse than his.

Why didn’t I just chuck it, you’re probably saying to yourself. Cut and run, and leave the job to the next greenie that came along? It was pride, Boy, I would say, at least in part. Mostly, though, it was because I was paid very well, and hardly had to break a sweat. Isn’t it just the way? You have a job where you get paid–enough–and a little more than enough–and you take it into your head to stick it out and hang on to a good thing until you get just enough Pretty Polly to put into your grouch bag, and then–you take it on the lam. Vamanos, for the wide open spaces.

And that’s how they get you. Because “enough” is always never really enough. You figure you can always treasure up even more. That’s why crooks and con men are always babbling about making one last big score. Idiots! Not one of them, for all their savvy, ever knows enough to quit while they’re still ahead. Or, if there are any who do, they keep themselves well-hid, which is fitting and meet.

When you’re in a situation like that, money is the best friend you got, and maybe your only true friend. Of course, just like the chump I was, I was pissing away at least half of it every week. So–you ask–so why not rob the fat lady and abscond with her considerable loot? Don’t think for one minute that it wasn’t on my mind. Larceny is my defining trait. I’d steal a hot stove, if’n I could. I thought about it all the time. So, for that matter, I’ll wager, did every greedy Cazarny on the lot.

But there was one big problem, so to speak. She kept her silver hidden away good. So good, in fact, that I never found it. And believe it when I tell you that I looked everywhere. I practically tore her trailer apart trying to grab for the prize. As it so happens, every month she snuck out and wired her dosh to some Philadelphia lawyer, and he stuck it in a bank, where it quietly accumulated compound interest while in the meantime I drove myself half crazy trying to locate her hoard. Y’know, I should of known it, too, right from the start. Because, given enough time, even a blind hog can find an acorn.

One of these days I’d like to go to Philly and knock over that bank. Just so’s I can imagine the look on her stupid fat face when she learns that all her shekels have vanished, poof. But it’s a pipe dream. Not that I haven’t looked into it. Problem is, that particular bank is sealed like a drum. It’s better guarded than the Rogers Vault. It’d take a small army to crack it, and even then there’d be no guarantee of success. It just isn’t worth going to Ossining for. But I can dream–can’t I?

No, ordinarily, when it comes to the ladyfolk, I am the very soul of true chivalry–which, I think, is true of any real man of the South. But that fat lady troubled me something fierce. If she was just plain ornery and she owned up to it, I suppose I could of stood it. But no–she had to walk around with her smeller way up in the sky, and give off an odor of sanctimony. Why in the name of all that was holy and wise did the goddamned zook have to put on such airs? Who in hell did she think she was–Marie Antoinette?

No. I suppose she was even worse, as Marie Antoinette wanted people to have their cake, instead of eating it all for herself. And never claimed that she wrote a book. And Big Tiny Small most certainly did. An imposture most rank, says I.

1* SALUTATION
ARETHA FRANKLIN
SKYLARK

SMOKEY ROBINSON & THE MIRACLES
LIVE AT THE APOLLO
WAY OVER THERE

ALSO SEE:
THE KELLEYS
LEAVIN’ TENNESSEE

2* REFERENCE
FREE BOOKS VIA INTERNET ARCHIVE
https://archive.org/

ALSO SEE:
COMIC BOOK FULL TEXT SITES
DIGITAL COMICS MUSEUM
digitalcomicmuseum.com/
COMIC BOOKS PLUS
comicbookplus.com/?cbplus=sitemap
COMICS WITH PROBLEMS
http://www.ep.tc/problems/

3*HUMOR
JAY KINNEY
“RED GUARD ROMANCE”
http://www.jaykinney.com/vintagecomix.html

ALSO SEE
PERE UBU
CHINESE RADIATION

4*NOVELTY
GOULD’S ANOMALIES & CURIOSITIES OF MEDICINE
web.archive.org/web/20050405224151/http://etext.lib.virginia.edu:80/etcbin/toccer-new2?id=GouAnom.sgm&images=images/modeng&data=/texts/english/modeng/parsed&tag=public&part=all

ALSO SEE:
KRAFFT-EBING’S PSYCHOPATHIA SEXUALIS
archive.org/stream/PsychopathiaSexualis1000006945/Psychopathia_Sexualis_1000006945_djvu.txt

SEE ALSO:
NORMAN SAUNDERS
UGLY STICKERS
http://www.normansaunders.com/Ugly%2C01.html

5*AVATAR OF THE ZEITGEIST
DOLLAR GENERAL VS. WALMART
http://www.theguardian.com/business/2018/aug/13/dollar-general-walmart-buhler-haven-kansas

6* DAILY UTILITY
WHAT TO DO WHEN A COLLEAGUE EXCLUDES YOU
hbr.org/2017/04/what-to-do-when-a-colleague-excludes-you

7*CARTOON
The Other Stan Lee: Not giving Credit where it’s due!
By BARRY PEARL
https://forbushman.blogspot.com/2018/08/the-other-stan-lee-not-giving-credit.html

8*PRESCRIPTION
HUNTER S. THOMPSON
THE HIPPIES
The Hippies
Who They Are
What They Want
Why They Act That Way
https://belhistory.weebly.com/hippies.html

ALSE SEE:
TEENAGE DREAMS SO HARD TO BEAT
http://www.voicesofeastanglia.com/2012/01/teenage-dreams-so-hard-to-beat-vintage-comics.html

SEE ALSO:
THE ANARCHIST IN THE COMIC BOOK SHOP
https://reason.com/archives/2013/01/29/the-anarchist-in-the-comic-book-shop

ALSO SEE:
BROTHER POWER THE GEEK
https://www.gabbinggeek.com/2017/03/23/slightly-misplaced-comic-book-heroes-case-file-112-brother-power-the-geek/

THE COMIC BOOK LOVE-IN
https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/vdq484/nick-gazins-comic-book-love-in-107

9* RUMOR PATROL
ONE IN FOUR FEMALE COMICS HAVE BEEN MOLESTED
No woman in her right mind would want to be with a man who tells fart jokes for a living.
https://www.chortle.co.uk/news/2018/08/02/40648/one_in_four_female_comedians_has_been_molested

10*LAGNIAPPE
ALIEN PORNO MIDGETS
HIGH ALTITUDE OVER OUR LITTLE GRASS SHACK….

11*DEVIATIONS FROM THE PREPARED TEXT: A REVIEW OF OTHER MEDIA
DISNEY
WALT DISNEY SPEAKS

Disneyland will never be completed. It will continue to grow as long
as there is imagination left in the world.

I love Mickey Mouse more than any woman I have ever known.

There’s nothing funnier than the human animal.

We allow no geniuses around our Studio.

We are not trying to entertain the critics. I’ll take my chances with
the public.

You can’t just let nature run wild.

I don’t have depressed moods. I’m happy, just very, very happy.

Some people adore everything Disney. Others are not so sure.

Elisa Gregory, MASTER OF PERCEPTION WHO SEES THE LIES THE TRUTH HIDES.
The death of jfk is a hoax, a illusion of a shooting. Jfk was also known as the king or president of hearts. Another person who died was dorothy kilgallon. The jfk hoax is based on alice in wonderland and oz._. Lees name is based on two rabbits from the past._. Lee brought the girl from russia to the president of hearts death._. The hoax was created by aldous huxley , a master of lies and perceptions . He worked for disney studios, disney studios worked for rko pictures. Rko pictures was owned by the Kennedys._. Look at dealy plaza._. Where the president dies._. Its heart shaped._. Look at where the president of hearts lands, its called Love field._. Heart of dallas._. Heart of texas._. Jfk was loved by everybody ._. The story of jfk is a reverse actions story that starts at the end and ends back at the begining._. Technically , no shooters were arrested in dealey heart shaped plaza, because you cant arrest illusions of shooters._. From a doctored film to planted evidence. From a slash to a shooting._. From a girl to illusions of shooters._. From jackie the ripper to jackie bouvier._. From lewis carrol of wonderland to c.Lewis of narnia._. Lewis .C to C.Lewis both mirrors of people and stories disney and huxley adapted for kennedy._. A billionaire and his dream, rko pictures and disney studios , aldous huxley and C.Lewis of wonderland and narnia, jfk and jackie the ripper._. Lee oswald, oz dies, dorothy dies, leader of hearts dies._. By a mirrored perception of the mind of aldous huxley and lewis c , c .lewis._. I love the jfk shooting hoax or lies of a shooting._. Oswald to awldos to aldous._. Aldous to awldos to alldas to dallas._. The warren report is designed to solve nothing but createing a dead end of confusion._.

In case you were wondering, Mister Gregory has other interesting theories:
https://archive.is/rtxrc

And then there is this:

Just as with Billy Graham (see Vol. 2 about Billy Graham), the entire Illuminati threw their weight behind promoting Walt Disney. Ronald Reagan and Walt Disney were good friends and both cut from the same die in many ways. Both men were high ranking Freemasons, both came from socialist backgrounds (Ronald’s mother was Eleanor Roosevelt’s best friend, & Walt’s Dad was a socialist leader), both were paid FBI informants, and both were involved heavily in the abuse of mind-controlled slaves.

A Boy’s & Girl’s Club sang ‘When you wish upon a star’ (a popular
programming song). Hillary Rodham Clinton (herself an Illuminati Grand Dame and a mind-control programmer) shared with the audience that she and Bill “first brought daughter Chelsea to the Magic Kingdom when she was four.” Roy E. Disney, nephew of Walt, told the public that Disney World “is the story of men and women who took hold of a dream and never let go.” There is a double meaning to that. Many victims of trauma-based mind-control have taken hold of the illusions that were programmed into their mind secretly at Disney, and never let go.

http://www.thewatcherfiles.com/bloodlines/disney.htm

WHY DISNEY ARE UNSPEAKABLY EVIL
orzzzz.com/10-reasons-why-disney-are-unspeakably-evil.html

THE PERVERTED WALT DISNEY EMPIRE
theconspiracyzone.podcastpeople.com/posts/32979

The notorious “Disney Memorial Orgy,” by the great Wally Wood, which I owned briefly as a full-color poster I bought in a head shop in Newport RI circa 1972 (the display copy, which was the last one they had.) It frightened and disturbed me so much that I hid it in a closet and it was eventually lost, although I suspect you can still buy a spanking new one for a relatively modest cost.
http://www.ep.tc/realist/74/12.html

We will give the last word to a good friend of mine:

“To put it as clearly as I can: I have always felt that the Disney productions came from a dark background. Whereas the Warner Bros. cartoons came from a light background.

“This is not entirely subjective, because the air of menace is never far away in the Disney world (as you can see from just about any of their feature films). One has the impression that these lovable cartoon critters are about to be stomped to pieces by the Lovecraftian elements in the background.

“Of course we know that the black mouse is really running the show and leading us down a rabbit hole that ends in Acheron.”–Richard Smoley

12* CONTROVERSIES IN POPULAR CULTURE
GERSHON LEGMAN
Legman very nearly invented the term cunnilingus. (He called it cunnilinctus, and wrote the first book on the subject.)

He popularized origami in the United States.

He (by his own account) invented the slogan “Make Love, Not War.”

He compiled two comprehensive volumes of Limericks.
archive.org/details/Limericks

He was a prominent folklorist who helped bring Vance Randolph to wider attention.

His monumental two-volume Rationale of the Dirty Joke was the source document for the movie The Aristocrats.

Some say he ghost-wrote portions of Fredric Wertham’s anti-comic book screed Seduction of the Innocent.

This is a good read.

Gershon Legman.
The Fake Revolt.
http://www.ep.tc/legman-thefakerevolt/

From: The Fake Revolt:
…just be thankful they aren’t members of the same Fake Revolt one layer down: the motorcycle fags and hoodlums who peddle their bodies to homosexuals in public toilets for money to buy Nazi insignia, but who are scared of girls unless there are enough other hoodlums present to gang-bang them or pull out their front teeth with pliers, and throw them to their death from apartment-house roofs. The dirty girls available for this type of work do not require description — either before or after. They are somebody’s daughter, too, and were brought up on the “media,” and hassled into frothing in their panties publicly over well-publicized pelvic crooners and other pop-culch offal.

ALSO SEE:
The main feeling one gets, picking one’s way through the sodden bodies and surly faces of the “flower children” in these psychedelic pads nowadays, is that of a terrible and empty sadness and meaninglessness. Mostly, the kids just sit around among the unwashed dishes, scratching their unwashed armpits, screwing, etc. (you want details? — subscribe to their poetry magazines), and work themselves up on drugs to writing newer and worse manifestos and poems, all in a bad imitation of the style of Walt Whitman’s bad imitation of the King James Bible, also a century ago, or rather three centuries ago, but this time all beginning: “My armpits were green when I woke up this morning.” Look, chump, you’re lucky you woke up at all, the way you hit that snakeroot. Also, where does it say that free speech for poetry, or for “love,” involves masturbating four- and five-year-old communally-held children for kicks? That used to be called the Black Mass. Now, all of a sudden, it’s a Human Be-In, and a private Love Event around the old pad. Ya wanna play sex-games with daddy? Pardon me while I puke. [p.17]

ALSO SEE:
‘It is precisely this angry, grumbling, wildcat hostility to everything, that will make the Fake Revolt the chosen vehicle of the next Hitler … who will naturally require drug-addicted goon-squads and a Lumpen “Elite” (on motorcycles) to scare YOU, the yellow-belly public, into frightened silence and guilty connivance, exactly as happened once before in living memory…. Don’t imagine for a minute that I’m the only sorehead still remembering Hitler and the German Death Camps, laid out and suggested in Celine’s Bagatelles pour un Massacre and L’Ecole des Cadavres, works carefully omitted from this particular lunatic degenerate’s complete works, now again being plugged as “in.” The motorcycle hoodlums and surfers of the California coast, at least, want nothing more in life than big waves (of the Future?) and Nazi medals, German pilots’ crush-caps, and Hitler Jugend daggers to sport, and will pay any price to get them; will even trade hand-engraved idols of the surfers’ secret god, “Tiki,” for them…(Cross-cultural note: most Iron Crosses now being peddled in America are forged by two pop-sculptors in Los Angeles.) …. The New Left is essentially a front operation or “Social Democratic” Trojan Horse, intended to set up cadres to welcome the new Hitler when he comes. [p. 20]

John Clellon Holmes wrote of Legman:
[H]is spiel was headlong, iconoclastic, funny, rash, irresistible. It was like listening to a Mencken version of a Lenny Bruce routine … The atmosphere around him was so irreverent, so stimulating and above all so liberating…. that [it] made me feel disturbed, wearied, exhilarated, but always more alive when I saw him. (Holmes, 1967, p. 19, 27)

THE INFORMATION #1006 AUGUST 17, 2018

THE INFORMATION #1006
AUGUST 17, 2018
Copyright 2018 FRANCIS DIMENNO

dimenno@gmail.com
https://dimenno.wordpress.com

Greed has taken the whole universe, and nobody is worried about their soul. –Little Richard

WHEN THIS WORLD CATCHES FIRE
BOOK THREE: SAVAGE NOXTOWN
CHAPTER TWELVE: PART TWENTY-THREE: THE EASTERN GATE OF PARADISE

Miss Big Tiny Small. Just as mean and ornery a she-male as I ever come across, midget woman or no. I mean, I am quite certain that it wasn’t very pleasant being held up to common ridicule as the world’s fattest midget woman, But you’d think that at least she wouldn’t bite the hand that fed her–and amply, too, from the looks of it. But no, she was just as snappish and ingrateful to Colonel Gentleman as a Gila Monster. And this was the woman I had to butter up and be nice to! It was the hardest job at the carnival, and the hardest challenge I had ever faced. Every job I ever had after that one was as easy as babysitting a pickled punk, or snatching a sweetie away from a sick toddler on the piss pot. Every occupation was after that one a lead-pipe cinch, next to placating that filthy snarling little midget woman. I wish I had her here right now–I’d give her the what-for, and you know that’s the truth because I tell no lie!

Like I said, I read that wretched so-called “book” of hers from cover to cover–at first, from boredom and idle curiosity, but eventually, in self-defense. I read it over and over again, like a condemned man in the shadow of the Gallis pole, about to see his Lordie and a-readin’ of the Good Book to try and find some kind of loophole. She would see me out of the corner of her fishy eye, a-readin’ of her book, tortured prose and all, and then she would start into simperin’–a terrible sight to see. I’d rather eat a bad mushroom, or swaller a fresh plug of chaw, or be locked up in the county morgue for eternity and a day then t’ have to face that bloated lump of ghastly blubber. I swear the woman was somewhere between a human and an insect–O, how I longed to swat her! But I dast not.

If I had her here right now I’d swat her fat ass with a new straw broom! I’d swat her so hard, she’d see the moon and all her stars!

Anyway, I’d be a-readin’ of her “book,” and she would turn to me and say something like, “You know Sammy–it’s all true–that book–really, I usually eat no more than a little bird. But I’m feelin’ a mite peckish right now and I need uh l’il snacky.” She would always use that disgustin’ language whenever she wanted something from someone. rise. She thought it made her sound chic. Well, to me it made her sound like a shit. And it made me want to take a shit. I won’t say where. She thought it made her sound cute. As a solid fact, it always made my gorge rise. But I never let on. Every time I was tempted to look at her the wrong way, I simply closed my eyes.

And then she’d say, “Sammy, won’t you go down to cook and ask him to make me uh li’l snackie? There’s my good boy.” She wouldn’t of made me so mad if it wudn’t for the tone she used. I wouldn’t talk to my dog the way she talked to me–let alone anybody else’s dog. Why, if I had a dog, and I talked to him like that, and the cur just stood there and took it, why, I’d kick the mongrel clean across the lot. And if I did it again, and the brute failed to resent it to the death, why, I would shoot him dead on the spot.

And I love dogs.

But I took it, all right. It’s amazing what a man can talk himself into doing by telling himself he has to do it, even if he don’t.

Let me first explain that for her, a “li’l snacky” consisted of a whole broiled chicken. Not one of your puny squabs, neither, but a whole roastin’ bird of a good eight to ten pounds or more. And that was just for starters. With maybe also a quart of fresh-churned buttermilk, to sort of wash it down like. Plus, for dessert, a whole strawberry shortcake.

Now, she had plenty of money. This I knew. They paid her well. But her “li’l snacky” always had to come out of the common dinner ration. And she knowed it. And she didn’t care a rap. Because it was also her unspoken “practice,” you see, to eat every comestible in sight before anybody else caught so much as a whiff of it. Though she never let on that this was her most strongly-held “practice”. That would be too much of the God’s honest truth for her to cotton to.

For sloth and gluttony, I swan she had no equal in heaven, hell, ner on earth. And I was stuck. Stuck with having to please her. An impossible chore–one of the labors of Hercules! Even Samson would of shied away from the prospect! And all of it fell to me and to me alone. “Oh,” she said, as I was going out the door of her trailer, “and by the way, Sammy, have Cook take the skin off the chicken. A girl’s got to watch her figure, you know.” I shot out that door quicker’n a scalded cat, before she could start simpering again. I tell you, she was enough to put me off’n womenfolk for good and all. But it didn’t last forever–this cold, clammy feeling of distaste–and I got over it. In time. Nowadays, I don’t even mind if a gal has got a little heft to her. Makes me feel like I’m getting more of a workout. But back then, whenever i went a-girlin’ and a-whorin’, I would always pick out the skinniest zook I could find–no matter how old she was–all cats look alike in the dark, hey?–just so I could get some relief from the nightmare world I was livin’ in. Big Tiny Small was enough to sour the disposition of Little Eva. She was an awful lot like Topsy–she wasn’t born; she just growed. Or maybe she hatched. From the egg of a dragon, no doubt.

It got to bad that I didn’t know if I was coming or going. And, for a young man with no clear prospects in sight and nobody to show him the path, this was a disaster. Unmitigated tornado, drought, fire, storm–all of these paled in comparison to the wreckage left behind by that fat, stupid, ugly midget woman. She wasn’t merely a difficult client–she was the bane of my existence.

1* SALUTATION
THE TURTLES
HOT LITTLE HANDS

SEE ALSO:
THE DOORS
LA WOMAN

ALSO SEE:
LOU MIAMI & THE KOZMETIX
TO SIR WITH LOVE

2* REFERENCE
LOSING EARTH

ALSO SEE:
HOTHOUSE EARTH
https://www.cnn.com/2018/08/07/health/hothouse-earth-warming-intl/index.html

3*HUMOR
EVERY STATE BITTERLY DESCRIBED IN A SINGLE PHRASE
http://twentytwowords.com/every-state-described-by-a-single-sarcastic-line-from-a-bitter-resident/

4*NOVELTY
LENNY’S CLAM BAR AD
FEATURING FRAN SINATRA JR.

5*AVATAR OF THE ZEITGEIST
GUIDED IMAGERY TO INDUCE A DREAM STATE
http://www.newforestcentre.info/uploads/7/5/7/2/7572906/guided_ld.pdf
howtolucid.com/meditation-and-relaxation-for-dreams/

6* DAILY UTILITY
NOAA’S HEAT INDEX
http://anecdotes.typepad.com/.a/6a00d83451646969e201538fd918d5970b-500wi

7*CARTOON
MR. SKETCHUM IS AT IT AGAIN!
https://scontent-lga3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/38674393_10155926957998737_4029983091035471872_n.jpg?_nc_cat=0&oh=de0975b27c66c4200869dbd7550963ac&oe=5BFFAEAB

8*PRESCRIPTION
SETH’S TOP TEN CRITERION COLLECTION FILMS
https://www.criterion.com/current/top-10-lists/84-seth-s-top-10

9* RUMOR PATROL
LIFE OF THE PARTY!
https://scontent-lga3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/10982928_437229936457023_1363400636215420629_n.jpg?_nc_cat=0&oh=e3ec4cf67fbf894b101f46fe2c01ee1e&oe=5C086941

10*LAGNIAPPE
KING CRIMSON
THREE OF A PERFECT PAIR: LIVE IN JAPAN

ALSO SEE:
SHELTERING SKY

11*DEVIATIONS FROM THE PREPARED TEXT: A REVIEW OF OTHER MEDIA
THE TYPICAL SUMMER GUEST

ALSO SEE:
P.J. O’ROURKE
FOREIGNERS AROUND THE WORLD
At about the time this article appeared is when National Lampoon started going sour.
https://imgur.com/gallery/H1X8R

12* CONTROVERSIES IN POPULAR CULTURE
Rape And Consent Explained In 7 Simple Comics By Alli Kirkham
http://www.boredpanda.com/consent-rape-comics-alli-kerkham/?utm_source=google&utm_medium=organic&utm_campaign=organic

THE INFORMATION #1005 AUGUST 10, 2018

THE INFORMATION #1005
AUGUST 10, 2018
Copyright 2018 FRANCIS DIMENNO
dimenno@gmail.com
https://dimenno.wordpress.com

It is impossible to get rid of a world without getting rid of the language that conceals and protects it.–Mustapha Kyayati

WHEN THIS WORLD CATCHES FIRE
BOOK THREE: SAVAGE NOXTOWN
CHAPTER TWELVE: PART TWENTY-TWO: THE EASTERN GATE OF PARADISE

Sam Floyd and Cadger Tandy were stranded in Bunetown. The summer night was warm and sticky, forks of lightning illuminated the sky outside their attic window, and neither of them could sleep, so the both of them tiptoed down the stairs and went outside in their stocking feet to sit on a bench near what would have been the back porch, if the boarding house had offered that amenity. Young Tandy listened in fascination as Sam Floyd continued his narrative of having to serve as a reluctant Sir Galahad to the world’s fattest midget woman.

“Oh, she had her practices, all right,” he said.

And every last one of them was calculated to work entirely to her advantage, and to the advantage of absolutely no one else. She would even turn on the big Boss, Colonel Gentleman, the guy who owned the carny. You should of seen him in his heyday–big and vain and fat and florid, wearing a split-tail frock coat and a greasy plug hat, and sporting a set of great long waxed black mustachios which were his pride and joy. The Colonel was afraid of no man, and yet he lived more or less in mortal terror that Big Tiny Small would quit the carnival, even though she commanded a hefty salary. So to speak. The reason being that for some inexplicable reason she was wildly popular with the general public–and don’t you think for one hot minute that she didn’t know it.

And–get this!–she was just as ignorant and crass as the day was long, and yet she fancied herself a supreme intellect, as well as a litterateur and a full-blown authoress, because she had once written–or had written for her, more likely–what she called “my little book”. False humility was another one of her many vices. As you can imagine. Anyway, this so-called “book” was really nothing more than a pamphlet, with line-engraved illustrations, which purported to be the “true story” of her life.

I read it once, when I got drunk during a monsoon in Tucson and had nothing better to do.

I’m no English perfesser, or any kind of a learned man, but even I got to seein’ that it was full of gross spelling errors, and written with the sort of wild and atrocious grammar that a child of ten would use, and not a very bright child at that. And yet, she was inordinately proud of the thing. She was always prating on about “my little book” and about how some “big New York publisher” was going to be sending her a big advance “any day now” to publish it “in a greatly expanded version.”

Which would of been appropriate, I suppose, because she herself was a greatly expanded version of a midget woman.

“And then, once it’s published,” she would say, “I can say goodbye and au revoir to this awful carnival and all this mangy riff-raff. No offense. Present company excepted.”

Now, like I said, I read the damn thing, and it was a pack of not only lies but damned lies. Infamous falsehood. She spun a whole batch of whoppers from start to finish. She claimed to be descended from French Nobility! Hee hee hoo! The closest she ever got to French Nobility was the puff pastries she used to devour with all the close and constant assiduity of a starving hog.

The plain truth of the matter, as Colonel Gentleman had told me, was that she was the daughter of an Irish Washerwoman and a Polish bricklayer. Her parents cut her loose at the tender age of eight on account of all the groceries she was destroyin’.

She also claimed in her “book” that she had entertained “before all the crowned heads of continental Europe.” Though I heard from the same confidential source that she had only ever been to Canada–once. And maybe Tijuana. I don’t know anyways what the entertainment value of her would of been, unless those crowned heads greatly enjoyed the sound of a fat woman’s braying laughter. Or maybe they had a hankering to hear her bark like a seal and wheeze and snort while she was wolfing down some goodies.

She also claimed that she had a slow metabolism and that she actually ate very little–“but once a day.” When “just to keep her strength up,” she “nibbled away” at “a dainty little salad” and, “for my luncheon,” a “child’s portion” of broiled chicken “the size of my palm.”

The fact of the matter was, she could of outshone Diamond Jim Brady when it came to packing away the slop. Why, when it came to feats of eating prowess, she made the average farmhand look like a sickly puke. I once saw her consume the better part of a twenty-pound turkey, and wash it down with nearly two quarts of buttermilk. It makes me sick just to even think about how much she would eat at a sitting. She would eat until she was so full that she couldn’t even get up from the table, and then she would eat some more. I once saw her demolish an entire salted caramel apple pie, meant for twenty or thirty. It must of weighed at least five pounds. The carny cook asked her to sample it. Big mistake. She took a little taste of it and said, “This is good.” Then she took another taste and said: “This is really good.” Then she took a good sized taste, and said, “This is really, really good.” And she kept sayin’ how good it was as she inexorably polished off the whole damn pie. Much to the dismay of the cook, who must have spent two or three hours preparing the dainty. And then she looked up and said, “But…where’s the ice cream?”

All the other hungry carnies, who had been looking forward to eatin’ that pie all week, had to make do nibbling at the leftover pieces of crust from which every trace of apple and caramel had been sucked clean. Oh, she was really some pumpkins, that ‘un. And then she said, “It has always been my practice,’ and here she let loose with a dainty belch, “never to leave any food on the table. As we all know,” she added, “there are people in China who are starving.”

It wasn’t only the people in China who were starving that night. Every cazarny on the lot was stabbing her with the dagger eye. Especially the Calabrian Stong Boy. And every carny on the lot was plotting their revenge. Yet nobody did a thing. because she was the Boss’s pet. But, just to show you what kind of a fella the Colonel was, he did pay out an extra silver dollar to the crew that week, and told them all to go to town and blow themselves to a feed.

Later on, the Boss paid a little visit to the Fat Lady’s trailer and the first words out of her mouth were, “Where’s MY silver dollar?”And then she started into simperin’, and it was an awful thing to see. Truly awful. She has this sort of cupid’s bow mouth, and she twisted it into an expression that would of put paid to a stone gargoyle. Colonel Gentleman got all flustered and handed her a silver dollar and she said–can you believe her brass?–she said, “It has always been my practice to speak up for myself, as, if I don’t do it, nobody else will.” Then she started into practically bawling about how she was just a poor misunderstood critter who everyone treated like dirt, just because she was “ample”. I think she even threw in the expression “pleasingly plump.” And “Rubinesque.”

“You know,” she said, “in France and Germany, I’m considered a great beauty.” And then she simpered some more. The Boss–God bless him–for he is a better man than I–he didn’t retch, and he didn’t even so much as bat an eyelash He had his little eye on the box office, and the dosh, is what. So he simply jollied the Fat Lady along, and asked her how she liked her accommodations and was she comfortably situated, and then he told her that if she had any more “concerns,” she should summon him “immediately” and he would “drop everything” to see that she was made happy. And then he made his departure.

I learned from the Moss-Haired Girl right afterwards, Colonel Gentleman threw the damndest tantrum on the lot that was ever heretofore seen, and how he called her a blankety-blank this and a blankety-blank that, and how he practically ruptured an artery and started gibbering and had to be led to his trailer and administered several large snifters of strong drink before he came back to his senses. Hee hee hoo!

1* SALUTATION
THE YOUNGBLOODS
INTERLUDE

ALSO SEE:
OLE RASMUSSEN
SLEEPY-EYED JOHN

2* REFERENCE
THE SCAM OF THE PSYCHIC
https://www.cnn.com/interactive/2018/07/investigates/maria-duval-psychic-scam-invs/index.html

3*HUMOR
CONVENTION ARTIST BINGO

MARCUS KING:
These are not exclusive to artists.
As a retailer, I get:
“Wow, been looking for this forever” (does not buy)
“Wow, this (brand new thing) is full price?”
“You should sell these cheaper, you would make more money”
“Are These Free” (points at item with price tag clearly visible)
Tries to walk off with item “Thought it was a sample”
Asks for obscure thing, I have it, say’s they will “think about” it.
Asks about how to open a store (every fucking day I get this)
Asks if I will trade for (gun, drugs, sex, other shit I don’t want)
Asks why I collect (magic, pokemon, ygo). I don’t. It’s something I sell.
Parks in front of my store, next to my door, walks to another house or business.
Comes in, uses bathroom, pees on floor.
Comes in, uses bathroom, shits on floor.
Comes in, ignores child who runs around like a cat with head stuck in sock, knocking shit over.
Comes in, breaks things, doesn’t have money to pay.
Comes in, shops for 20 minutes, asked repeatedly if they need help, leaves, gives bad google review about no customer service.
Comes in, asks questions for 20 minutes, says they will buy online cheaper, just needed information.
Comes in, scans barcodes to find price online, asks if we will price match.
2000 other stupid things.
Edit

4*NOVELTY
In college I was told by Erik Rieselbach about a charming game called “The Beer Hunter”.

As eloquently described here:

Take slab of tinnies, shake one can vigorously for 3 minutes. Mix all the cans together so no one knows which is the shaken one. Take in turns to take a can, holding it to your forehead and pretending you are Christopher Walken in the russian roulette scene in The Deer Hunter, whilst your friends slap you in the face, shouting ‘MAU!”, till you open the can and survive or get soaked. Then you drink the can. There’s no real point to the game apart from one person gets completely covered in beer, but you’re all equally pissed.
https://www.toytowngermany.com/forum/topic/28363-drinking-games/

5*AVATAR OF THE ZEITGEIST
FUZZ AGAINST JUNK
Admittedly, Kerry Drake himself is a confirmed pipe attic.
http://www.beyondthc.com/kerry-drake-1-6-18/

6* DAILY UTILITY
THE GODFATHER PHILOSOPHY
During my mis-spent youth, I and some cronies of mine depended for much of out wisdom about how the world works upon the writing of the American philosopher Mario Puzo; specifically, certain well-maked passages of his acknowledged masterpiece THE GODFATHER. From it, we took many value lessons.

MICROECONOMICS
“He would not pay seven hundred dollars to keep Fanucci alive. If Fanucci needed seven hundred dollars for an operation to save his life, he would not give Fanucci seven hundred dollars for the surgeon….Why, then, should he give Fanucci seven hundred dollars?”

CONTEMPORARY SLANG
Nazorine glanced at her shrewdly. She was a “hot number,” this daughter of his. He had seen her brush her swelling buttocks against Enzo’s front when the baker’s helper squeezed behind her to fill the counter baskets with hot loaves from the oven. The young rascal’s hot loaf would be in her oven, Nazorine thought lewdly, if proper steps were not taken. Enzo must be kept in America and be made an American citizen. And there was only one man who could arrange such an affair. The Godfather. Don Corleone. http://www.penguin.com/ajax/books/excerpt/9780451205766

FROM GUADALCANAL TO GUH! WHAT A CANAL!
…and almost weeping with grateful ecstasy…her body received the savage arrows of his lightning-like thrusts; innumerable, torturing; arching her pelvis higher and higher until for the first time in her life she reached a shattering climax…

SOPHISTICATED HOLLYWOOD BADINAGE
Jack Woltz: “Johnny Fontane will never get that movie. I don’t care how many dago, wop, guinea, greaseball goombas come out of the woodwork.”
http://www.moviewavs.com/php/sounds/?id=bst&media=M4RS&type=Movies&movie=Godfather&quote=goomba.txt&file=goomba.m4r

HOW TO WIN FRIENDS AND INFLUENCE PEOPLE

7*CARTOON
A DECONSTRUCTION OF BATMAN R.I.P.
http://sequart.org/magazine/9316/deconstructing-batman-and-robin-the-grayson-foils-part-1/

8*PRESCRIPTION
THEY CALLED IT THE EDSEL
Poet Marianne Moore’s proposed names for the ’58 model Ford:
http://www.listsofnote.com/2012/02/utopian-turtletop.html

9* RUMOR PATROL
BIGFOOT PORN
A story that LBJ liked to tell. Short version.

A Sheriff was running for re-election in Texas. His staffer recommended that the sheriff accuse his opponent of unlawful carnal knowledge with a pig. Another staffer remonstrated that it wasn’t so. The first staffer said, “I know. But let’s make the son of a bitch deny it.”

This comes to mind because of the recent kerfluffle over a politico who is allegedly addicted to something called “Bigfoot Porn.”
http://www.newsweek.com/bigfoot-virginia-riggleman-cockburn-1053243
https://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/bigfoot-porn-house-race-virginia_us_5b5ec4f5e4b0de86f4988800

There is a picture of the creature’s genitalia, if you care to see it. But perhaps you do not.
https://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/bigfoot-erotica-white-supremacy_us_5b5f659be4b0fd5c73d21a3d

Bob Crumb was eerily prescient.
WHITEMAN MEETS BIGFOOT
champagnesharks.blubrry.net/whiteman-meets-bigfoot/

It all comes back to Rule 34.
http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=rule%2034

10*LAGNIAPPE
THE REMAINS
ALL GOOD THINGS

HEART

ALSO SEE:
FAIRPORT CONVENTION
MEET ON THE LEDGE

11*DEVIATIONS FROM THE PREPARED TEXT: A REVIEW OF OTHER MEDIA
21 TV SHOWS THAT SHOULD NOT HAVE EXISTED, BUT DID

12* CONTROVERSIES IN POPULAR CULTURE
GUN CONTROL: THE SOLUTION
We can solve most of our gun-related problems in just one just fell swoop by passing the following law: Fatsos are not allowed to own guns. To own a gun, you must have a BMI from 18.5 to 25. No exceptions.

Of course, the police get to keep their guns. Why? Because I’m a three-fisted patriot who only believes in one thing: Not sweat equity. SWAT equity. Call in the boys in blue and have ’em clap the darbies on the whole lot of malefactors, and if’n they try to run, why, you just blast ’em.

SEE ALSO:
Associations between Urban Sprawl and Life Expectancy in the United States
http://mdpi.com/1660-4601/15/5/861/htm

ALSO SEE:
THE BATTLE OF COSTCO
http://www.thestate.com/news/local/crime/article215857825.html