9622.net

Witchie had to leave, but everyone else is just fading away. Come back, come back, all is forgiven!

We'll even put our pants back on!

Now, Vidiot, let's not make these decisions in haste.

Wearing pants is not to be taken lightly.

I'm surprised you don't know that Miguel has many identities on this site. You may even be one of them.

**checks self for signs of Portugosity**

Oooh, this is good. Via another missing friend, Eeksy Peeksy.

Did everyone's favorite Portuguese Goa way?

Eeksy, that was TERRIBLE (And I'm just pissed I didn't think of it first.)

i don't think i'm miguel. but i really can't be sure.

*sneaks some booze from Miguel's side of the liquor cabinet*

*tries on Miguel's velour smoking jacket for size*

*gently strokes Miguel's cigar*

*quietly reminds jon that sometimes a cigar isn't just a cigar*

[book store's front window]
Window Sign: Portuguese cult author; Today Only
Sees; book displayed nicely at a table, an empty chair.
[Bar next door]
Smells & Hears; cigar smoke, Portuguese accent & laughter.

Isn't Mig releasing a new book? He mentioned it in Stav's b-day thread and several of you are in it too. Whom do you think is in it?

I'm in it. I play an asterisk on page 142.

"*"

Don't I look spiffy?

He's a freaking cult novelist, not Aslan.

I'm still laughing at "Portugosity".

Kinda sounds like a bad Wesley Snipes flick.

Ever read Breakfast of Champions, jon?

Nope. I read Hocus Pocus and about 20 pages of Slaughterhoouse Five when I was 13. Plus "Harrison Bergeron," in college.

Why?

No reason.

*whistles*

That was shitty of me. Sorry.

Breakfast of Champions is illustrated byh the author with little line drawings...he draws "asshole" as an asterisk.

It really is a great book, btw.

Ah.

I've literally made an ass of myself.

Now that I'm home, I sure wish someone would show something not safe for work. Or what is "not safe for work" for?

Someone sent a notice today that one of our employees pasted away.

A sticky situation for us all.

Tizzie,

Could you please adhere to the subject of the thread? Masking your indifference makes us think that a mind is a terrible thing to paste.

I learned in school that haste makes paste.

Way to duct the issue.

I'm beginning to suspect that you're all plastered.

Not even lightly spackled, unfortunately.

mmmm.....spackle.

Hmm. Well what do you know. The hills are alive with the sound of mucilage.

you mean, like drywall mud? I"ve got drywall mud dust all over me. Luckily, I'm a hairless chimp, so I don't look like the ice monster on Hoth.

In other home-improvement news, I was burning the paint off my windows, and had to put the torch down. well, I accidentally brushed my nipple with the end of the exceedingly hot torch tip. So now I'm a white hairless chimp with a burned nipple, who's listening to Silkworm at high volumes.

I accidentally brushed my nipple with the end of the exceedingly hot torch tip.

notsnot, do not try and fool us. There is no such thing as accidentally brushing one's nipple with a torch. Am I right or am I right?

Well, it happened because I was too fucking lazy to take a step down the ladder to put the torch down.

So, I guess instead of an accident, it was karmic retribution for my laziness.

Tonight's entree at Chateau Gorille:

Mamelon Flambee.

Bon Appetit.

Eeksy-P in the house!

My step-father and I were horsing around one summer, chasing each other around the house, back when I was like 12 or so, and as he leapt through the back door, open-shirted, he caught his right nipple on something and ripped it almost completely off. Ouchies.

So that's nipply, and maybe conceptually NSFW, depending on where you work.

*disappears again*

Er, post, damnit.

I lurve youse guys. Breakfast of Champions is still probably my fav. Vonnegut novel, and a large part of it has to do with those drawings. Of course the * was by far the best.

And ebk, don't forget to refill those bottles with water or coke or Sioux City Sasparilla or something.

I wouldn't want Migs mad at me.

You'd wake up with a baby rhino, an empty Beer Nuts can, a piece of salt cod, and Joe Jackson in your bed.

flatulent horticulturists signal me with breadsticks.

When it comes to Vonnegut, it begins and ends with Mother Night.

Cat's Cradle is not without it's charms, though. I always found all that * talk to be a little overwrought, however.

When it comes to Vonnegut, it begins and ends with Mother Night.

Fes, I have a great reply to that, but it will have to wait until the morn when I'm hungover instead of drubk and all that shit.

Gimme seven hours. That's all I ask.

See you on the flip-side.

Fuck, that took forever to type.

Who's been playing with the breadsticks again?

And what the hell is that smell?

(As a side note, that ripping nipple story? Made me feel like I had balls and they were retracting into my stomach in horror--that's how much that story hurt me).

I love the smell of retracting balls in the morning...

Dang, late for the party with an empty bag of pork rinds again.
I was just starting to enjoy the glueward direction of the thread when you all went Vonnegut on me. Such Kurt comments. Not to mention a sticky wicket. And for goodness sake don't mention the effects of accidentally bringing the tip of a hot glue gun to the tip of a nipple (Burning, sticking, retracting, the whole trifecta!). But speaking of nipples that look like ass-terisks, have you taken a close look at the dispensing end of one of those new upside-down ketchup dispensers?

I'm sorry. I don't know what I'm doing.
Miguel just asked me to stick around here until he got back and whatever I do, don't touch anything! Man, am I gonna be in trouble. My Portugoose is cooked.

Cat's Cradle. Ten men on a dead man's chest. Yaar.

"If you are a swimmer on the surface, you have a silhouette that looks like a marine mammal," he said.
Some more than others, heh.
Jaws.

Wow, lotta literary fucks you all are. I almost regret my life of ignorance.

OK, upon reflection, I must admit I also have a soft spot for The Sirens Of Titan.

*taps foot, whistles, waits patiently for Ufez to drag his ass out of bed with that comment about Mother Night*

Come off it, Jon. I thought I saw a copy of "Ulysses" in among the Camille Paglia books in your apartment.

That was Lisa's. The coloring books, those were mine.

I have to agree with Fes here--Mother Night and Cat's Cradle are the two best. That and that thing he wrote about the sunscreen.

At long last - sweet vindication!

I thought George Carlin and Garrison Keilor wrote that sunscreen thing...? Wait, that was the "we live in a time of bigger asses, but smaller chairs" thing. Wasn't it?

Garrison Keilor drives me nuts with the fake down home "by cracky!" horseshit he writes. Like Molly Ivins' "I don't know nothing about birthin' no babies!" faux Texas wisdom. That what either of these two dildoes write is considered sage is the reason why the South (and Minnesota, or wherever Lake Wobegon is supposed to be, Hell probably) is still considered the land of porch-borne appliances. I want to clunk their heads together like two bowling balls in the return.

Except he didn't write the thing about the sunscreen. Mary Schmich, a not-bad columnist for the Chicago Trib, did.

[/pedant]

*edges nervously the fuck away from Literary Fuck Fes*

Don't even get me started on Anna Quindlan.

That "wear sunscreen" passes for wisdom in this day and age is a rather biting critique of our times, don't you think?

Miss Schmich should be held accountable. You think her home address is available on the net somewhere?

*snick-SNICK*

She also apparently writes Brenda Starr.

Her head will look good on someone's mantel, don't you think?

::sighs:: I know he didn't write that thing about the sunscreen, vidiot. I forgot to add the [sardonic] tags to my post...

Anyhow, the sunscreen thing is not nearly as clever as George Carlin's Why I am a Bad American email anyhow.

Try and say "Miss Schmich" with out sounding retarded. I defy you.

oh, indeed.

*drinks some coffee himself*

Sorry. Had two shots of tequila and a pint of Shiner too many last night. It's amazing what Aleve, Diet Coke, and Cigarettes can do for you in the morning. Now if I could just get my eyes to focus, I'd be golden.

With regards to Mother Night, it probably is Vonnegut's best story. The intro to the book says "This is the only story of mine whose moral I know. I don't think it's a marvelous moral; I simply happen to know what it is: We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful what we pretend to be."

The story itself is great too. I picked it up after a Vonnegut thread on Bookfilter where Fes said (again) that Vonnegut begins and ends with Mother Night. Smashing recommendation and it didn't fail.

I just prefer Breakfast of Champions for its sheer absurdity. It's by far the funniest KV novel I've read (I think I've gone through about 5 or 6 now). The story isn't quite as coherant as some of his other stuff, but the style is great and (as mentioned) the pictures were a great addition. It's very different from the damning storyline of Mother Night. So much so that I'm not sure they're comparable.

That said, Vonnegut's only let me down once. I really didn't care for Galapagos. It just went nowhere. But that's okay, five out of six ain't bad.

And jonmc, I think you've touched on something here. We need coloring book classics. Who wouldn't want to color in the red and white of Oskar's Tin Drum or Jean Valjean's grey trenchcoat? Seriously, I'd buy them by the bucketload.

Off-topic: Does anyone know of a good way to say "Shut up already, I have to go take a shit" to a chatty co-worker when some level of professionalism is supposed to be maintained? I really don't care how you feel about Benny Hinn, I just desperately need to go drop the kids off at the pool.

I thought George Carlin and Garrison Keilor wrote that sunscreen thing...?

No, they wrote that Penthouse Forum letter about having sex with the entire squad of Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders.

I know my literary classics, honey.

Actually, all kidding aside, several of the regulars here should be columnists and blow the Quindlens, Ivins, and Garrison The Constipated right outta the water.

I mean come on who wouldn't rather see "dong resin" on the byline instead of Cal Thomas?

And jonmc, I think you've touched on something here. We need coloring book classics.

Crayons taste like wax.

The have classic comic books...?

Does anyone know of a good way to say "Shut up already, I have to go take a shit"

I usually just groan and fall forward clutching my abdomen. They usually get the hint.

Also, one advantage of working in teevee is that "Breaking News!" really is the perfect all-purpose excuse.

But Fes, where's the D.H. Lawrence stuff?

Hmm, porno coloring books could be fun too.

Yeah, but they'd have to include extra pink crayons.

Why not a Vonnegut coloring book? Bluebeard would ceratinly lend itself well.

I like almost all Vonnegut, though I don't think it is necessarily in the canon of great literature. I would agree that Cat's Cradle is his best work, along with Sirens of Titan, Breakfast of Champions (anyone see the BRuce Willis movie of it?), Mother Night, Slaughterhouse Five...his worst probably Slapstick, Galapagos and the last couple...Timequake and Hocus Pocus.

I can pick up his books repeatedly and just enjoy them. I went through a stage around 16 or 17 where I just ate up all of them. But they've lasted. I can't say the same for Tom Robbins, unfortunately.

ufez, my friend gabrielle just released a comic book that includes a DH Lawrence story in it.

It's got boobies!

I just managed to terrify a co-worker, by grabbing my nascent, Who concert jersey encased beer gut in two handfuls and jiggling it at him.

I won't tell you why, but the fucker asked for it.

Breakfast of Champions (anyone see the BRuce Willis movie of it?)

It's been in my Netflix queue for a while, along with Mother Night starring Nick Nolte. I probably won't get around to them until Spring, but I'm looking forward to them, even if they do suck.

That actually terrified me, and I wasn't even there to see it.

I saw it and I liked it. It has been a while, so I can't remember specifics, but it was a good, surreal treatment of the book.

Yeh. I thought the movie was OK. But the fact that I can't remember that much of it makes it, well, not that memorable.

Vonnegut movie hierarchy:

Slaughterhouse Five
Mother Night
Breakfast of Champions

are there anymore? I know there was a Showtime production of Welcome to the Monkeyhouse, and Happy Birthday Wanda June was actually written for tv I think.

But the fact that I can't remember that much of it makes it, well, not that memorable.

Usually I figure that I can't remember it because I am getting dimwitted or I was drubk when I saw it.

I should also point out that the aforementioned Vonnegut movie hierarchy is, of course, just my own and is not written into the side of a mountain in West Virginia or anything.

Although, the economy of WV being what it is, for a couple of bucks, it could be.

Funny, I think I remember seeing it there.

Does anyone know of a good way to say "Shut up already, I have to go take a shit"

Fart!

VIDIOT: Also, one advantage of working in teevee is that "Breaking News!" really is the perfect all-purpose excuse.

"Breaking News" makes a fine metaphor, much like the perennial favorites "Touching Cloth" or "Turtle Head."

But what would a librarian/library worker say? "Overdue" is the first that comes to mind.

Don't come into this stall. I'm giving birth to a producer in here.

I especially enjoyed Kurt Vonnegut's portrayal of "Kurt Vonnegut" in Rodney Dangerfield's "Back To School".

Aaaw, Tizzie! I'll burden you with so many baby pics you might be tempted to take some of our very own!

I'll be back when this worrying lack of writers' block is over. I'm in another, more familiar world right now. If it's any consolation, it's no fun. My 9 to 5 is like from month September to next May.

I do check in for reanimating purposes, even though it puts me off for three hours or so.

xxx Lots of love xxx

Miguel

He lives!

*faces east, raises glass of Port*

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