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Sunday, June 30, 2013

Lord Melody - Booboo Man / Mama Look a Boo Boo



           Let`s see if this works ---- LordMelody`s Calypso Jam... and me writing a BLOG.
It`ll be lovely to be able to write posts, share music, Pics and videos, chat, and but and sell
valuables  on one site at the same time.
       We`ll see.
                             Anyway, if you can hear this song... listen especially to 2nd half and the people
and band inter-laugh inter-dance   and party together...
                                  Walked into this at the age of six.... been trying to get back to the same scene
ever since.

    

Saturday, June 29, 2013

KLEANSE YOUR BODY, KLEAR YOUR MIND -------KWIK CURE...ORGASM KLINIC KLEAR YOUR MIND! KWICK CURE! ORGASM CLINIC!



                OK, to be honest, the clinic was never called
the :  
      KLEAR YOUR MIND --- ORGASM CLINIC
              But a benefactor  called it by that name
and broadcast the name in a massive ad campaign
that had clients running for the hills faster than
my intensely surprising FAST-RELAX methods.
       I`m surprised our advertiser forgot the
words KWIK CURE!

                    The clever, sophisticated professional woman
 realizes after a decade of misery, and after
several husbands have been shown the door, that
she has ORGASM REPRESSION issues - well, this calibre of lady is not going to go for the type of therapist
who approves of the "K" in KLEANSE YOUR BODY, KLEAR YOUR MIND -- ORGASM CLINIC.
         No, certainly not, but my cousin Morty did the sign  "as a favour" to me and as a SURPRISE he rented the acreage above the clinic, erected a gigantic billboard that could be seen from the highway.  And his considerate message to me was: "In business, you can`t have too much publicity!"
          His mother came from an extremely wealthy family
in mining, building construction and leasing - and having
been cured by my clinic, she insisted Monty give the whole
therapy team a Bonus we`d never forget...
          "`A Bonus for the Boneman` was how she put it," Monty assured me. `That fucker deserves it!` was what she also said.
       
         Dr Laura, my assistant handed me a bright yellow pamphlet.
        It was early morning, before coffee... She is almost
always charming and gracious about saying "hello" quietly
not knowing what delicate state I might still be enduring
in the early A.M.
           But what was this, no hello and no coffee, and...
and was she snickering behind her hand...? Were those tears
tears of laughter? Was she about to scream with GLEE??
She handed me a stack of about 500 more bright yellow
pamphlets.              I read the promo Morty had written. First
the handwritten scribble, "Not to worry - 22,000 of these
are already distributed... On the porches of everyone
you know, everyone you might one day want to know..."
            I opened the bright yellow brochure. 
 
           It was an advertising jingle. The words are written in big purple letters, about half-inch high letters... big purple
letters against a vibrant yellow background! Ye gods!
I don`t even have to read the words to know
the message is disturbing...!
                                                

  KLEAR YOUR MIND, SHAVE YOUR PUBES,
LET THE DOC UNLOCK YOUR TUBES!
GIVE A CHEER WHEN YOU HEAR THE THUNDER,
IT`S "SURPRISE!" FROM THE LAND DOWN UNDER!


            
      I ring up Dr. Laura.   "Ah, Laura, how many...
      "Morning, sir!" she replies. (She never calls me sir... she is floating by on a cloud of her own hilarity...)
      " How many  of these delights....how many have gone out?"
      "Well,Sir...
      " DON`T CALL ME, SIR!" I am losing whatever thin
veneer of respectability I might have... ever had...`
      (I don`t like to shout in the mornings.... I prefer to fall
to my knees and beg forgiveness for my sins of the night before, whether I committed them or not...)
       "Ha! Ha! Yes, well Marty`s Note  says: "DON`T
WORRY, BOSS, I`M ON THE JOB!" 
       "That`s not  reassuring...what else does the little 
bastard have to say?"
       "His next words seem to say... "NO SWEAT, PAPERED
THE NORTH-EAST SECTOR..."
       I had a sinking  feeling in my chest and a rising feeling
in my stomach... WHY ME? I ask as I run to the sink on my knees.... I vomit six or seven times... am left shuddering
naked on the lino... shaking in the fetal position with the
dry heaves...
      Returning to the phone I choke out,  "North-East SECTOR! What does he mean.... SECTOR"
       "It seems to be a rather large sector, sir.
Here we have it - written on the back:
                             ` From Forest Hill to Beverly Hills,
                              From Ocho Rios to Hay River`...."

       "That helps,  thanks Doctor....


        Having the personality I have, and the few highly-
inventive bad habits, I have awoken many mornings
only to face disasters on the Richter scale.
        
        I intend to handle this crisis the only possible
way I can - Lock the doors, close the drapes, turn off
the phone and the television, and start living life
under a different name... 
        Who am I this morning?
       
        None of us  need to know.            


      

        Unfortunately the local papers did know
put a photograph of Morty`s Billboard on the front page, and the New York,  Miami, and Toronto papers followed suit.
           
           I observed a number of expensive vehicles peel out
of my lot in reverse, soon as they observed the
special "K" in Klear...
            As a result, the misery of a a number of troubled
women continued longer than necessary... all because of Marty`s misguided enthusiasm. I asked for a discreet sign -
small official letters in a Bronze plaque (wd?) beside a not at all ostentatious black front door with brass handle.
              Imagine the delight of a rather famous movie star
when she was flash-photograped by dozens of members
of the press,  soon as she stepped  discreetly
out of the Clinic side door... 
            To have her profile exposed between the words,  KLEAR   and    ORGASM CLINIC
She was not at all pleased -
especially  since the parts she played suggested in no uncertain terms that having an orgasm was the
least of her problems... In other words she was moaning
and rocking her head back and forth, burbling in baby
talk and cumming like a freight train at least twice a night
in all of her "Action Films."
           There was action, all right, just
not sufficiently RELAXIN ACTION in her own life.
In this unwitting  promo, she about as hot as
her accountant drinking iced water, counting cool percentages.
       PUBLICITY - the two-edged sword!  The actress felt it
and the politician`s wife; and now my team, we`re worried
about it as well.

           I have found a charming spot way north of Rio -
a relaxing no-name resort at Wait-A-Bit.  The rooms stink, but we get no news up here.



       

      Oh yes, and the wife of our high level politician
was not happy either... But, knowing the politician,
everybody  assumed it was highly likely that anyone close to such a demi-man in the haute monde was going to have  orgasm problems at the very  least - not to mention major difficulties with a psychotic break over the sudden appearance of STDs.

 
                                                                                 Ssti!  Tabernack!

         





                                                                                                                                                    RRR

Wednesday, June 26, 2013

NEWS! LARGEST SEX ORGAN EVER FOUND ON A MAN PHOTOGRAPHED IN CANADA ; NATION HUSHED; FEMALE DOCTOR IN CHARGE OF CASE FOUND WEEPING ON HER KNEES; PROCESS OF WEIGHING AND MEASURING RECORDED ON TIMED VIDEOTAPE



CANADIAN MAN FOUND TO HAVE LARGEST SEX
ORGAN EVER RECORDED, MEASURED AND PHOTOGRAPHED

Woman doctor in charge of the case found weeping
on her knees  I`LL GO TO CHURCH FOR A DIFFERENT REASON NOW!

IT CHANGED THE WAY I THINK ABOUT RELIGION! THE
Doctor promises.




             Some people hate porn  Me, I love porn and I`l tell you why... I`ll call it,  "Erotica."
       Our genitals are found at the very centre of 
the body, do you not agree?
       Come with me on a journey...To eat of this tree at
the centre of the garden

      I am told by a psychic who wanted into my pants, she said:  "You are a very interesting man in all directions....To the east and the west... up high.. and (her voice dropped  two octaves when she said: "And down below.")
     "Let us go down low," she said and winked at me.
I was starting to feel nervous because I was going to be a
little late for choir practice at the charming little church of Scientology just down the road.
       "My God,  what have you heard?  I asked her.

       "It is not just what I have heard! It is what I see
right here today, standing in front of you here." she said.
        "I have heard that you are a Very powerful  MAN...
where it counts!"
          I said: "------------?"
          She said:  "Let`s take those pants down and
see if what they say is true...?
           With a deft movement I nabbed her wrist.
           
           "If you have Second Sight, why would you want
to see what I have in my pants?   if you have have Second Sight  you should be able to SEE what`s  in my pants.."" I said to her.  I held her against me       
          "Second sight is not the answer to all things," Almira said. "With Second Sight I can see the purple popsicle you have in your freezer on Main Street East, in the Great Northern City By the Bay... the City between two lakes - one deep and one murderous."
           " That`s very good," I said: " I live in that very City,
as  you know... Though I have not told you so..."
            I continue to praise her.  " You have just proven
to me how effective Second Sight can be... You even know I have a Purple Popsicle  in my freezer by Main Street East in the Great Northern City By the Bay."
          "What is the difficulty?" I ask,  "What deficiency is it that you see in your wonderful ability?" 
          
          "I asked her this kindly." I remember well we were standing in the front hall, belly to belly.
            She clasped my left wrist in a surprisingly strong grip with her right hand.  With that hand she started
pulling me towards the coat cupboard by the door.
           She stared deeply into my eyes with her midnight-dark, all seeing eyes...
           She said: "With Second Sight I may see the popsicle..."
           "You ask me what the problem is?"
She pulled me close:  "With Second Sight alone,
I cannot lick it!"
           
         She opened the closet door and entered. I 
walked into the closet, too, and sat
 on the gleaming steel stool which was
bolted to the floor  at the centre of the dark room. 
There was a spot light shining from the high ceiling.
It shone directly down onto her area of interest.
        She put warm oil in her hands and started
stroking me. I could feel myself swell in her
magic, knowing hands. She shaved off all the hair
that was there and started massaging between
the two swollen orbs.
        My legs felt slack as she did this. She leaned
into me and started probing between my orbs with
magic fingers.
       She probed between my pre-frontal
lobes with her  psychic index fingers...

       The largest sex organ - any man has ever
had - a man`s largest sex organ is his brain.
...   Man`s largest SEX ORGAN is the brain.



          
      














        I know! I know!  This story`s a bit of a dirty trick, but
it`s fun!
                                  Cheers to you all.
                                   (C)2013 by William G.Milne
                                     This is a story of many parts.
                                       Respectfully submitted, RRR.

Monday, June 24, 2013

ROVING REPORTER RANTS: WHAT IF OUR LEADERS HAVE COME FROM OUTER SPACE ---...

ROVING REPORTER RANTS: WHAT IF OUR LEADERS HAVE COME FROM OUTER SPACE ---...:                           IT CAME TO ME IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT! What if they live longer than we do and need some extra Nitrogen in t...

WHAT IF OUR LEADERS HAVE COME FROM OUTER SPACE -----------------------------------COME TO DEVOUR US ALL.................................................WHAT IF.......THERE`S NO LAUGHTER IN THE LIZARD GALAXY?



                          IT CAME TO ME IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT! What if they live longer than we do and need some extra Nitrogen in the air they breathe???
           What if the  RUMOURS OF TERRA-FORMING
are true?
           What if the monstrous stupidity we see everywhere -
the rape and pillaging, the GREED-HEADS polluting the
TUNA in the sea --- tuna is a deep water fish, and if
we`re dumping the shit to the bottom?
           No... no... Ballantine, don`t you avoid the subject!

           I was looking at pictures of our most recent Prime Ministers.... and I had the thought. Are these people from
planet earth? Or are they JUST PRETENDING?

          Look - Canada is a country where, if you don`t laugh, one of two things are possible:
          (1) You`re sub-human. You just don`t get the fact
that somethings biting your ass, even after you feel the warm fluids running down the back of your legs... and the blood filling up your shoes... God knows we meet a lot of sub-humans in the north (not just the north, mon frere). But in the deep north and the deep bush, you can get so stunned
by circumstance - like a cruise missile hitting your town, or
Artie`s booze, or the flies, or the Shine, or the flies - after the
bomb hit, a lot of people in Wait-A-Bit ( well, you can`t really say "a lot of people" in Wait-A-Bit anymore...) couldn`t remember their own names let alone the name of the town they lived in!
           But these citicens are not sub human - they`re superhuman just to be alive... ((and they all can laugh!))
           Laughter seems to be the key...
           How ALIEN can you be if you can still laugh? I don`t think we should answer that question before breakfast...
I just thought of a lot of horrible  mind-bending possibilities.
 
                        (2)  If you can`t laugh at the flies biting your ass ---
or at least laugh at the flies biting someone else`s ass...
well,  you`re not Canadian.  ((The other night I saw a naked man running down the Mainlane.... chased by a cloud of nattering, humming, chattering insects, screaming, "JOSEPHINE!"  
                 Well, I`d never seen the guy before.  And in a town of 16 people, that`s strange, but one thing I knew beyond any doubt - they guy I had just seen was a Canadian!
                              But if you can`t laugh, the flies don`t bother you,
and you`re untroubled by the 9 months of WHITEOUTS
we are gifted every year, maybe just maybe... YOU`RE AN ALIEN!
           And maybe all this mind-numbingly stupid polluting
is not just MORON TIME for humans, maybe the aliens are
 following a deliberate plan to transform the earth into
a waste land for humans.. but a LIZARD PARADISE for the
rest of our guests.

            Which is it, my fellow Canadians, is it   "1" or is
it "2"?
            Are our last ten Prime Ministers  (1) SUB-HUMAN
because almost all of them could not laugh  (Diefenbaker`s an exception --- but he really looked alien)

                      OR IS IT  (2) Are our Prime Ministers super-human?
Are they invaders from another planet who live longer than
we do and who have come to eat and destroy us all?
Perhaps the reason they do not laugh is LAUGHTER IS NOT UNDERSTOOD IN THE LIZARD GALAXY.

                I just spend the last 92 hours without sleep staring into the eyes of photographs of our last ten Prime Ministers. It`s a disturbing experience I don`t recommend and I still
can`t make up  mind.

                Do me a favour, will you? Take a good look at
their eyes, yourselves. Take a card - cover the left eye
and look.  Then cover the right eye and look. Tell me what
conclusions you come to,,,,

                                    Let`s carry on this talk at another place a time.
I just had a dark thought, indeed.... there my be a third
option:  OPTION(3)---  O Jesus, I`m not ready to discuss "3" yet!





                                                                                                                          YOURS,  RRR



























Sunday, June 23, 2013

WHY DOES A COUNTRY OF COMMEDIANS HIRE HUMOURLESS SQUAREHEADS AS PRIME MINISTERS?..........THE HORRIBLE POWER OF THE CANADIAN UNCONSCIOUS!........unconscious.... NATIONAL PUNISHMENT PLAN............................................... OH YEAH, AND LET`S GET RID OF PAROLE, TOO!

                     THIS QUESTION GOES DEEP!  THERE`S MORE HERE THAN MEETS THE EYE! 
         Trust me!  Tetons maudits!  Tetons stupides!
         "IN A COUNTRY OF COMEDIANS WHY DO WE ELECT SQUAREHEADS TOO DUMB TO LAUGH?"
         This might be the most serious question facing Canada today!  
            And I`m not lying! I only wish I were lying, but I`m not!   And the fiscal implications are horrendous! Canada
needs a new economic plan all right!
           DEAL WITH OUR INFERIORITY COMPLEX
AND A ************ UNCONSCIOUS MASOCISTIC
DESIRE TO BE PUNISHED THAT COSTS BILLIONS!

          In our country you have to laugh. If a person cannot
laugh in Canada, I get the sense that person is out of
touch with reality.
          Nine months of the year we freeze our nards off.
           Then summer comes.... Blackflies! Blackflies!
Mosquitoes big as houses and god knows how smart..
I saw one about the size of a marble slowly, patiently
testing each square in the screen of my hat....for fifteen
minutes straight he kept probing.  Are we strong enough
to deal with insect minds will like that?
           Yes, we are.... but just barely. But if we can`t
find something to laugh about in THIS country - laugh even
as we`re running away... ( from constant clouds of humming...flies.... swarming everywhere you walk -wildly,
intensely mad after your blood.... durring tanning season.
          Or laugh after five months of not being able to
exit the front door walking upright like a man.... because the snows up to your second floor windows.... and you have to burrow on all fours for 16 feet after you get past your door...
          (Actually,  I`m not laughing now.   Writing this is
depressing the shit out of me!)
           If the Prime Ministers can`t laugh because they`re
stunned with the horror of it all,,, I can respect that.
           But no. they are not stuck dumb with horror -
they walk around with that mannekin smile prtending
everything`ss hunky dorey.
             Hunkey dory, my ass! Haven`t they seen
the flies?  Haven`t blinded by an endless white-out
like the rest of us?
             No, these realities don`t sink trhough to
the mind of the squarehead.... Squaredhead`s
solution, "LET`S BAN PAROLE!"
              OOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooo, God!
What genius thought that one up...?
               And we vote the morons back in - and one
party isn`t a whole lot better than the other.
                WE SHOULD HAVE OUT HEADS EXAMINED!
And... this is a preliminary consultation right now!




                                              Respectfully submitted,  RR
                                            Discard nothing; everything
                                           may serve.
                                          Carpe Diem. And hand me a
                                         drink,  Artie.

          "WHY? WHY? WHY?"  said the hooker to the Bishop
hiding behind one-way  glass, who happens to be
licking the glass as he watches Cassandras ass... in the 
lighter room beyond the glass....she can hear the slurping
sounds on the other side of the mirror....."If you`re gonna LIK SOMETHING, WHY NOT THIS. sHE  smaks her pussy
with the flat of her hand.. NO EXTRA CHARGE!"
               Oh, but the bishop doesn`t want that... too much
blood to blood contact in licking pussy.... no! no! he`ll do it 
the religious way - licking  the glass and jerking off like a crazed
monkey with a broomstick up his ass... no need to pay
too much extra for that!
        ((( My erstwhile enemy, friend and verbal sparring partner...Tabarnac! In 4 minutes of conversation a death occurred...H ewouldn have needed to be shot out of cannon if I`d got my hands round his scrawny neck.... He`d be laughing about this ISSUE ----Fuckin Canadians!"  he goes outside
a fires a shot -- thought I heard a Canada Goose!))
 calisse un volee... Porco Dio, fuck!

            Our Prime Minister, whoever is the fuck it was or is, or ever shall be -
told us not to worry about the Cruise Missile Tests because there was
(no way in hell) my words, we were going to all allow nukes on the cruise missiles - so
as we hear em go by whistling thru the pines... which are about four to six feet
tall this far north, we weren`t to worry... no nukes, so relax... unless one of those low
flying, easy to aim babies hits you right square in the head, no sweat.... no worry
at all nukes...ha! ha! ha!
        One thing I really want to know is - how in the name of God`s little green
demons does a whole nation who  know how manage to hire the most humour-less
squared-head dumb-eyed fuckin morons who know how to LOOK intelligent...
HOW DO WWE VOTE THEM IN?
          Because we trust them?  Naw, it`s something much darker than this -
darker and more twisted,  dark and perverted.... like my friend Lightfoot
Saunders who kept getting arrested because he WANTED to go to jail -
he thought her deserved it... either that or he was a sicke masocist
than I had him figured for...
     I bet about 20% of this country keep going to jail, because they find
the idea of being punished exciting.... Oh, Jesus!  And if you do the math,
since only about 32 to 42% of the country VOTE in the first place, and those who
vote are probably not the brightest third of the country.... and if 20% of the Country
go to jail becauise they  WANT TO BE PUNISHED..... do you see? This would explain
 how we get the stunned fools we do get.... And then everybody sirts still
and tries not to laugh or masturbate when the STUNNED CUNT talks down
to us...
                As if HE knows something WE don`t. Boy is he missing the boat!
And if we vote these fools in because we enjoy being punished by the fact that
we have to list to this MORON speaking serioully and we know all
the time that this blithering idiot is in charge of the police,  and can make
up some idiotic new laws in the criminal code.. that are really going to FUCK US OVER.
              Do you see why it`s important to understand S&M and joys of DOMINANCE AND SUBMISSION.... we might hide our proclivities in the CLOSET but this shiut
comes out and bites us ubnnm the ass,
             SOMEONE`S GOING TOHAVE TO GET TO THE BOTTOM OF THIS,
and I am uniquely qualified to follow this story right down to its
grisley ends..........
                                         You forget, I used to be a criminal defence
attorney, and I know some of the weird reasons people go to jail... not simple at all! 
And as you may or may not be, but you otta be aware,  I`ve been processed thru
several incarcerations myself.  And when i  finally wqs settled in my cell, I remember the relief I felt when I was able to push my swollen foreheda between two cool bars, no more than 4 inches
a part =--- that cool, soothing feeling was heaven.
            And when the short heavy-hipped female jail boss in shiny boots went clicking by and snapped  her gum to the rhytmm of her hoof -, to have her step by and shine a light in my face,
and say nothing but turn up her nose at me and walk by clicking along the terrazzo... ignoring
me entirely, showing my how superiror is to me - there I am locked in a cool-barred cage,
and she`s free... free to walk around that circle every fifteen minutes all night long...
and she`s free to bring the prisoners little medical things when they ass for it -
aspirin, more bumwad, notes to nurse and:  "Get that dink back in your pants or
I`l have ya howlin like a basset hound cauht on  a spikedroad   wd barrier   wd
             Aha!  the action begins. The poor fool one cell over has starrted to play
with himself....I can hear Louisa laughing as she walks slapping something against her leather gators...
             You don`t have to wear gators as a jail guard anymore - I don`t think
they ever were required as past of the uniform... but theynmake a nice snapping 
noise when you slap a billy club against èm.  Now we got the click of the heels  and
the snap of the billy club on leather... clck,. click, click...snap...clcik. ..click,, click...
snap---snap.... clcick... clcick... snap-a-dap-a-crack-a-lack... Back! whack!
Dack,dack , dack, dacxk , dack dack... "THAT`S DISGUSTING !"
         "Hoo!Hoo! Hoo!  Hoo!" I trying no to laugh out loud.
           The poor fool! Does he at least have the sense to step back from the bars...
            Louisa really does have a nasty temper! She has a temper in French and
a temper in English. But you know she`s not really losing her mind `til she starts
swearing in both languages at once!  "Jesus Christ! Colis, Sweet fucking God!
What you got wrapped arond that thing!!??!!"
            She turns on that 3 foot flashlight with the taser strapped to it with
duct tape...Ostie!  Tabarnak!  Where`d you get all that tape!
Aw, shit!  Fuck me!  Teton maudit! Criss calice de TABARNAK! You fukin fool!COCKSUK an english duck!!
       "Ho! Ho! Ho!` that`s a new one  ( Im not saying
a word.... she`s about to fly off the handle
       "What was that?"  guy to the right of me asks in a stage
whisper... 
        I whisper back, "She said she`s gonna beat the shit out of the duck-sucking TIT MAUDIT! Tabarnak enmerdee
of you...you Christly bird-balled ass-dripping momma`s boy
hung like an English field mouse....
         "J`MEN cALICE!!!! a pound a tape and a gram a dick!
A long arm and a short wick!""
         LOUISA`s got the whole place laughing now.... howling
with laughter.... real quiet like..... No one wants her
to stop,,,,
                  "THIS IS BETTER THAN HBO!"
                  WHO SAID THAT?
                     Shut up, Nemo!  Leave the lady along ---
she`s got a difficult situyation to deal with....

                   Even LOUISA starts to laugh at this... she goes
to get her pal  GOOSE-AA.... Gooseeaa`s a monster guard
with huge shoulders and tits and a myopic stare, and one eye`s slightly off-  this can be a mark of great beauty in a woman...in her case, it is not... So when she stares at
you with barely-suppressed fury ( as she is always furious)
you don`t know whether she`s looking at you or someoen
else,  you hope to Giod it`s someone else...because this is a gal that can really hurt you... she weighs in at 280 to 300 pounds, depending on her sex life the week before....I`m told she keeps her 120 pound unemployed  husband locked in the basement.. where he can do the laundry and boil the twenty
pounds of turnip and potatoes for the next meal...
            I`m told, and this may not be entirely true, that when she gets home... she beats the shit out of her husband
who wears a loin cloth and no shoes.... soon as her car pulls
into the driveway.... you can here him scampering up and down... the hallway downstairs --- the one part of the basement that has wooden floors... barefoot but quick
and muttering words that sound like pleas...
           Jail spies are every where - and after youǜe spent four
or fice months watching the the odd habits of each different guard....well, when they go on vacation, get loaded or suspended... and maybe someone on your range gets...
well, we damn well want REPORTS.... and if it`s some
little wussy, momma boy like pindick in he cell to my left,
then he damn well write us and tell what`s happening...
in our favourite odd strange guards life....
            Or he`ll receive a beating on the street,
worse than the ones he used to get from momma...
he`ll get a beating like the one he only wishes momma
would give him....
            Like Hank`s spiritual adviser used to tell him, when Hank got on his high horse  (ha! ha! I said, `horse`! 
"MAN  (and women)  ARE MOST  VULNERABLE IN THEIR
SEX, SO DON`T MOCK OTHERS` WEIRDNESS SEXUALLY -
YOU TOO MIGHT HAVE A BROOM UP YOUR ASS SOME DAY"
            "Yeah,"  Artie says... "And if you`re gonna start
doing that anyway, you might as well sweep up the MAIN LANE while you`re being forced to enjoy yourself. Har! Har!"
           `"Jesus, how much of that OVERPROOF have
we got left, Artie.... he distills it in a 25 gallon drum...
Artie goes over a raps the barrel with a stick.. down to
about the last 5 gallons..."  
          "Ooooo SACRAMENT! Coliise enmerdee  Osti de
Christoph! FUCK ME GENTLY!"
           "TETON MAUDIT, Hank.... you better get yourself outside and start digging
and diggin potatoes...   ... this is serious!`
         "Wait! Wait Wait! Let me get this down first -
what did you just say??
she looks at you, you have no idea whether she`s staring at
you or something else... 
            "Oh, no, do I have to call the nurse? She hates being woken up
at 3:00 AM!  Gets damn surly. Nurse is up, the whole damn jail`s going
to upo -  lights on,  cell inspections, the whole...
            Some of the newcomers shudder in fear..."Cell inspection... cell..
inspection....."
             That`s about as likely as peaches blooming in the jailyyard in February...
as likely as tanning in the bush in July... as like as...
             "Jesus God, they`re turning purple. Don`t start touching it now...
while Im standing here trying to help.... what sort of a perverted prick
are you???
             He`s  aperverted LITTLE prick, Boss!
             Needless to say all the range is awake, and the one out back of us, too...
and likely the two rangeS downstairs...
            "SHUT THA FUK UP!"  Bull Greens howls from the back range... what the hell`s
going on.  Ha! Ha! He`s indignant now.... not as indignant as the 23 old ladies whose
purses he stole in the hospital... They`d like to do to Bull Green what Louisa`s doing to
Tweeter...

and say, "Get that dink back i n yer pants, cup cakes...
or next round, when I shine somethin at ya it`ll be  a taser taped to a 3 foot flashlight,  and when I jolt ya with 5ooos volt...in your lower unit.Il hear you squeal like the dock song of the mackarel
           She`s coming back around her home on the range          

And next time round  on on your loose-assed knees, singing like high-pitched Joan of Arc on fire... fruitcake you`d better believes
            I`ll fry those Squirrel nuts clean off
                                        SO WHAT DO YA THINK?  Do you think we hire
STIFFS as out Prime Ministers because we have an unconscious
but very strong Masocistic need and desire to be punished.....
                                     Because, If that is the case --- there are lot cheaper ways
to get the punishment you (we) deserve... And I can arrange your treatment for one 500thh of what you pay in taxes.
                                      Why work your ass off to keep up with the Jonses, when the
jonses are getting screwed  fro cash, bad as you --- AND
YOU BOTH will gladly pay more for forgiveness...
                     JESUS!  DON`T hire a expensive DUMB
Prime Minister...hire a smart DOMINATRIX to punich
you!!!!
                      GOOD GOD, CANADA, get with it! 
                                        Whippings don`t take long.. or cost much comparatively
 and after you get  what you clearly need  -your time will be your own!
                                      Or does our unconscious NATIONAL PUNISHMENT PLAN go  more deeply into our depraved Psyche than even I, at the moment, can imagine?
                             

Friday, June 21, 2013

ROVING REPORTER RANTS: ROVING REPORTER RANTS: NO WAY OUT! FLIES! FLIES! FUBAR! HOW TO LIVE IN A...

https://zappadat.tumblr.comROVING REPORTER RANTS: ROVING REPORTER RANTS: NO WAY OUT! FLIES! FLIES! FUBAR! HOW TO LIVE IN A...

ROVING REPORTER RANTS: NO WAY OUT! FLIES! FLIES! FUBAR! HOW TO LIVE IN A...

ROVING REPORTER RANTS: NO WAY OUT! FLIES! FLIES! FUBAR! HOW TO LIVE IN A...: FULL MOON SWITCH- BITCHES IN A       SICKLE TOWN ROUND      This ia s pencil and/ink drawing done by   This is a pen drawing don...

   THIS IS PART ONE   ---- PART 2  IS AVAILABLE   at zappadat. tumblr.com   or try  tumblr.com/blog/zappadat
                                                                                        HOPE TO HAVE PART 2 On ROVING REPORTER RANTS
                                                                                                          tomorrow.... have to re-type it.

NO WAY OUT! FLIES! FLIES! HOW TO LIVE IN A HOLE FOR 90 DAYS HOW TO TELL THE FIRST TOURIST YOU`VE SEEN IN 16 YEARS - HE HAS TO SHOOT HIS HORSE QUICK,BURY HIM IN 20 HOLES **** WAIT-A-BIT CHAPTER 1 **** also unedited bits from THE MAD TRAPPED POET OF RAT RIVER!

 FULL MOON SKETCHES IN A  SICKLE TOWN 
    There is  pencil and/or ink drawing done by ERNIE TAYLOR

                SEE ---- on WALKER BALLANTINE`S FACEBOOK TIMELINE ---
ERNIE`S SKETCHES OF A LITTLE TOWN....  CARICATURES, TOONS, COMICS
SKILLFULLY CATCHING THE MAD PURSUIT....INSTANT HISTORY 
BY "PINBALL, SON OF ZYTT"  as Ernest like to be called in his serious moments.  






        Whenever I wrote a strange story  for the Talk of the Town Press  (North Bay and Ottawa) and let`s face it, if my story did not have a touch of the strange about it, I didn`t consider it a story.
         Ernie was right there with me. He loved to portray
the mad act...




     

           To roll the dice - live or die - on the one endeavour...
So very quietly, like a good hunter, he waited for the
wildly serious pursuit of the RIDICULOUS...... Translation: BUSH TRIPS in furtherance of The Great Mystery - 


HERE GOES --- MAD TRAPPED POET OF RAT RIVER
 UNEDITED 1
the Eye at the Heart of eternal in the Flower - 
 THE EYE OF THE FLY in the VORTEX OF THE MIND, 

 whirlpool at the core of the galaxies of TIME, 
 the Mind of the Lion in the palisades of power

and SEE infiinity in a grain of sand
know eternity in an hour                         (some..Blake)

to hold infinity in the palm of your hand
to know the cosmic dance is ours
 
the funnel at the centre of water circling round 
 MIND at the heart of  Aurora`s silent sound

silence  of primordial rock  of the Same
 the Name of  the diamonds and the stars from the All

our maker makes us, rarely shares whence he came
only in silence may we hear the Call

          I`ve been trying to work the "FLIES" theme back into
this story
         A SPIRITUAL QUEST really and a GARDEN OF EARTHLY DELIGHTS,  THE EYE OF THE FLY AT THE HEART OF THE FLOWER.  
         See?

         For example, the Roving Reporter`s story: 
          "On the Mating Habits of  a popular bird -
the Woodpecker - who beats his brains out for LOVE
AND INSECTS.
           See?
           There was no way our Roving Reporter was going to lose the thread of this one, this story in the immense silence...
the immense silence in which there was only one sound....
a rapping, tapping evermore....
       oh, no!   ONCE MORE HERE GOES:
       MAD TRAPPED POET IN RAT RIVER!
       ________________________________
UNEDITED TWO:
       "rapping on the feast of Stephen
       tapping though his hooves were cloven
       as some mad mind clove the moment
        knocked the hollow spot of gore;
        hollow place that was a doorway
        hollow tree that was before me
        and the sound that struck and tore me
        Like a fiend that lived before"
        
        "In that place, that mystery scoring
        Some weird beak at beat imploring
          

         like my camera had a barrel
          focused on the place of peril
          as my step would not find  purchase
          in that cursed land ashore
           croaked the  bird,  that looked so sterile
            on that island place of peril
            I took one step, tore  my apparel
            as knocking struck my knees once more
            Was it bird or beat or devil
             Beating hard on God`s quick anvil
              Beating like the heart of angel
             Chained below in some dark castle
              Whispering up some prayer and pleading
              That someone here would ride,
               Be seeing
               Some now timid broken creature
               Who the angels call Lenore

             EDITORS` NOTE Oh yes, and where were we?
             Was there not a story you were telling
             Before the office staff starts yelling
              With your laundry hamper smelling
              So we pitch the coffee on the floor
               You wretched fool, now tell the story
              Or your return we`ll be ignoring
              Just like some blind beast that`s boring
               Through the heart of dark love going              
               O the heart of dark love going
               To that sacred place of yore

               Through the heart of all dead lovers
               In the paradise of lovers
               Laughter runs thru like a river
               As Love`s dart will know no quiver
                                          enter true love liver (???)
               Ah, that liver set  afire
                Yes, the river  dark and rolling 
                Round the bend, so mad, and whirling
                 Yes, that dark and mighty river
                 That lost corner now forlorn
                 Mighty River called The Corn.         
                                                             

           
            __________________________________
 Cannot find toon sketch image for "Woodpecker"
   OK, OK, try this:

The other morning I woke up with the premonition that I was going to die, so I did the only logical thing. I went into the

BUSH and instructed my MORTICIAN to accompany me.
        BACK IN THE BUSH WITH MY UNDERTAKER =
                         
            MORTICIAN`S HUMOUR

   The first story for the Talk of the Town Press was entitled : 
"ROVING REPORTER DISCOVERS FLIES" 
That story drew Ernie Taylor`s attention immediately. And the line: 
"YOUR ROVING REPORTER HAS ASCERTAINED THAT FLIES DO INDEED
EXIST OUTSIDE THE CIVILIZED AREAS." 
                                                
* Reporting that flies exist in northern Canada in the summer...
s like reporting that ,with a lot of diligence and weeks of hard work, 
you have managed to find a tulip in Holland in TULIP SEASON                                    

             



                                               NO WAY OUT!   FLIES!  FLIES!
                                                                                      
                                                WAIT-A-BIT    CHAPTER ONE
                                __________                                                                       

         Now I`m reporting from a small  town north of Normal Wells on the 
 East shore of the Mackenzie River. If you look at the map and see
 Great Bear Lake - that`s about the Latitude.
                   I`m reporting from this little town of several burroughs - 
not Burroughs like you have in New York City, not Burroughs like you have
 in Toronto - no, I`m talking about Burrows , like foxholes - the kind you dig
 in the ground. The kind you dig when expect to move frequently.
                I`ll report to you the name of the town, village....
one dirt lane  near a hill ( we get our fill from the hill)
       - AS SOON AS THIS PLACE HAS A NAME,  I`ll tell you the name.
For the moment I call this town,  "WAIT-A-BIT."
               The town had a name before it was obliterated by a Canadian
pilot, during a joint Cruise Missile test done by USA and CANNUKS Working
together, they managed to obliterate our town so badly that no one can
remember  what it`s name used to be - if it had a name.
               We can`t blame this one on the American`s either... the 
servicemen  up  here tend to get a little loaded at the dances. 
Even way south in Normal Wells, the dances aren`t what you`d call dances.
. And that`s the big city compared to here... Once in Normal
Wells, twenty years ago I went to a dance, 
only there were no women OK maybe three.
So what everybody did is we bought 100 booze tickets each...
 and we got so loaded each person danced with himself... 122 men, 
3 women - and each person dancing to his own private tune.
              That was the night our ship rolled into Normall Wells. All
the one RCMP town cop had to do was park his cruiser outside
the dancehall and wait for the dancers ha! ha! to fall out the door.
And one by one he drove us back to the Ship -- or to our above- ground
dwellings.
             I can only assume the flyboy up here went to a dance and decided
to fly home and create a roadbed for a new highway at the same time.
Now we got the gravel bed for a new highway ---a NO highway that will NO be built,
 which will have a NO surface*** from NO-where =  from  "NOVAR to...
 "NOVAR to WAIT-A-BIT."
                                                *         ((((   "BACK TO THE STORY, FOOL!" (Editor`s Note) "THE STORY IS CALLED,
 "FLIES!` In case you`ve forgotten!" )))))   
  FLIES!                                                        
  FLIES!
 ______
                                               "
            In the Northwest Territories you can`t tie your horse up outside for
longer than an hour in fly season.....If you stay in a bar too long and leave
your horse tethered outside, one of two things can happen.  
(1) Your horse has gone mad and he won`t let you near him - every time  you
draw near he tries to bite you - and there`s no way you can ride him. In
his own crazy eyeball-rolling way the horse is dead serious about  hating you... and
he won`t change his opinion about hating you for the next two or three years
(2) You`ll notice you can see his ribs now when you never could before. That`s because clouds of carnivorous insects have been eating his tender bits, and now they`re working
away at chewing through his hide so they can start devouring his internal organs...

        You can be sure his asshole will mostly have been eaten out so it is
beyond repair... this will not have a calming effect on your horse, and it is likely
he will hate you for as long as he lives.
         I heard the plane landed an hour or so ago, and I notice we have a tourist in town for the first time in fifteen years. (Explosion was in 98). I leave my smokey burrough and go
outside to talk to the fool. I don`t like being outside at this time of day, but -
after all I`m the reason he`s up here, so it`s only fair that I talk to him...
... I can see in his eyes that`s he`s a long way from sober... He`s getting
that  `step n`a lurch` tourists get around here.  It`s easy to spot.
        Bertie`s walking past, also. So we got a crowd of three people on
the Main Lane.
         "Hey, Bertie, remember that tourist we had up here a few years back?"
         "Sure do!" Bertie calls back, "Nice fella...Didn`t say much, tho...
Funny the way he ran after that plane!"
          "Sure was!" I shout back at Bertie. Nice to talk toBertie. Don`t see him
much anymore. To tell the truth, I thought he was dead.

          I go real quick over the lane to talk to the tourist. It`s obvious
his horse is in distress. "Distress" is putting it mildly.
          "YOUR BEST PLAN IS TO SHOOT HIM QUICKLY AND USE HIM
FOR FOOD!"
            Fella whirls round on one heel and stares at me as if
I`m off in the distance. I`m only ten feet away. Peers at me like he`s
never see a man before. 
            He shouts, "WHAT!" He keeps lookin off to the south trying
to see the plane.  Plane`s been gone for hours. Won`t see another 
plane around here for weeks now, maybe months! I check one of
the dials on my watch - 3 months exactly.
            I say. " SHOOT YOUR HORSE!"
            He looks back at me. He almost falls down doing it. "WHAT!"
he shouts. He`s not asking questions now.  Now he`s getting kinda
rude...way too rude for an unarmed man.... I decide I`ll try
one more time --- a little patience.... I explain:
            I shout:  "NOTHING STANDS STILL UP HERE FOR VERY LONG!"
            "What?" he says. He`s perplexed.  He had no idea what the fuck
I`m talkin about.
             I say, very slowly now: "YOU`RE GOING TO NEED THE FOOD FOR
SURVIVAL UP HERE... SHOOT HIM QUICK!" Now I`m getting pissed off.
                    "NOTHIN STANDS STILL HERE FOR LONG!!"
                     Just as I say that -  a dog comes running down the lane
quick as if ten children were throwing rocks at him!
                     And they say God doesn`t have a sense of humour! Well, 
body says that up here. Up here  everybody knows God has a sense of
 humour... just... not a very pleasant sense of humour... This guy.... he keeps
staring at me like he`s never seen a hat before.
He keeps trying to reach up under one of the screenings. I swat his hand
 away, and kick his leg a light one.
         "WHAT!" he shouts at me again.  Spose he`s been down at
Artie`s grill.  That`s the only place you can get liquor around here. And
the man hasn`t had time to make his own.
         I shout back: "People don`t like cruelty to animals around here. The
horses can`t stay out long this time of year. Usually we let èm run up and down the street a few time and then they peel right back into the barn. And then we lock the barn door
tight, so nothing can get at em."
           I might as well be talking SWAHEELIE to this idiot! He walks right
up to me. He`s sorta a big fella, but I was big when I came up here, too.
             He says, "What do you mean this time of year?"
              I say:  "I mean the SUMMER. It doesn`t last long but  IT`S
                          NASTY, LONG AS IT LASTS!"

               "Looking for a man named, WILCOX!" he says.

                "You mean HENRY Wilcox?" I ask.
                "I MEAN ANY KIND OF FUCKIN WILCOX AT ALL!"
                 "Ha! Ha! Well, you came to the right place! I`m Frank Wilcox.
Henry was my Uncle."
                 "WAS? WAS! Did you say, WAS your uncle. YOU MEAN I
JUST CAME 5,000 MILES TO SEE A DEAD MAN?"
              "Yesh, that`s right. But don`t be blaming me about Henry. S`not my
fault he`s dead... you can`t just go running off across the muskeg around
here! It looks like a field I know, but it`s got HOLES in it... Just watch the moose
they don`t stay on top too long. Course you won`t see a moose this
month."
              He makes another grab at my hat. Kicked him harder this time,
closer to the knee. This one hurt-a-bit. In Jamaica they got a town called
Wait-A-Bit. Well, that`s where I got the name fort this place. Sure as hell wish 
I was in Jamaica --- it`s a lot cooler in Jamaica than here this time of year.  And in Jamaica, at least you can get some cold beer.
        Like I say, it`s hotter here .... and you cam get a beer to save
your life: DON`T GRAB MY HAT AGAIN!"    I`m taller than this fool
when I stand up straight and you better belive I can chaoke the life
out of him. God knows, I`ve had enough practice. It`s just not smart
to stand up straight around here. You make a .... better... Target.
           HE SAYS;  "You kick me one more time, I`ll rip that nose off!.... Right
off your face!....  That;;s if you have a nose!!!  Under all that screen shit!
COME `ERE! I WANT TO GET A LOOK AT YOU!"
            Artie`s laughing so hard he`s roling in the dirt... 3 legged dog
keeps sniffing at him...
             I shout: "WHERE YOU FROM ASSHOLE?"
             "Maryland."
             "YOU DON`T TOUCH MY HAT! Takes too long to strap it on These
screens are real important to me!  I`ll tie em up when we get inside.
                     "Artie`s buying us a drink...  .... Get up, Artie! Ya look like
you`re enjoying what that dog`s doing to ya... a little too much!"
          We go inside and I get Artie to unsnap the back of my hat where
where it tightens around the neck... I hang the hat fropm a hook in the ceiling...
don`t have to reach too high for the hook.    Ceiling`s only 4 inches from
the top of my head when I`m crouching... which I do these days pretty much 
all the time

         
          You get used to walking in a crouch... ask anybody`s who`s been in the army for
about four years... where people are shootin at your head.

          Now that I`ve got my hat off and the tourist can see my face - 
it`s too dark in Artie`s to see yer face ( I can write good English,
but not always.) 
          It`s cool in Artie`s Bar because it`s dug in the ground... like every
other fukin place around here...after the joint Canadian-American
cruise missile tests... and that dumb NUK ( I mean CAN-NUK... I`m not
being racist, not that anybody`d notice around here... nobody gives a fuck
and I tell ya... after smokin your skin a foot from a wood stove
10 months a year... nobody can tell what colour your skin is anyway...
cause it`s too dark to see anywhere you can relax enough to have a look...
to have a drink... after all, there`s only Artie`s.
        The tourists`s name is Hank, and He`s not a bad guy... he`s going
to have to learn some manners.... He just took the oil lamp off the bar
and shone it in my face....!   Nearly blinded me:
        "Relax! Just want to see what you look like... see if you`re half mad, or
if you`ve gone all the way."
         Artie laughs.  "Oh, he`s gone all the way... All the way and back!...
All the way round the moon - only the dogs up here understand him -
and that`s cause they sing together.
        "SHUT UP,ARTIE!"  It`s nice to see him, just not
that nice.
          "So what were you trying to tell me about my horse?" the 
tourist asks me.
           I was saying,"YOU`RE GOING TO HAVE TO SHOOT THAT HORSE!
Artie`ll lend you a gun and sell you a bullet."
           
            Artie pours us all a double shot of moonshine, mixed with water,
berry juice and syrop from farther south,  flown up north here all the way
 from Hay River NWT, and Hay River, on Great Slave Lake - hell, that`s 
Civilization!  
            Hay River`s  700 miles north of Edminton, the
Capital of Alberta.... And Edminton`  300 miles north of Calgary (give or
take 150 miles)...
          The Mackenzie River whose elusive east shore we are more or
less on.... this town migrates like Elk when it has to...Every year
or so we got to move in a hurry...
           Not like on Incineration Day - which is our version of
Armed Forces day up here in this funky little village --- village
which has proudly just received a tourist for the first time
in 16 years.  So we`re trying to be nice to Hank, here.
           The Mackenzie River`s (1,700 miles) one thousand seven
hundred miles long --- that`s just down to Great Slave Lake --- and 1000 miles
south of Great Slave Lake, you`ll still freeze your balls off any time
close to the wintertime - July, August your testicles might have a chance
to descend again because they`re warm  But don`t count on it!
          What I`m trying to say is - here in Wait-A-Bit we`re 2000 miles north 
of where you freeze your balls off 9 months of the year.

           Artie pours us two more - moonshine in a tin cup.  Heaven!
          

           I turn to Hank the tourist. "O.K. Listen to me now: "You`ll likely be
spending the winter here..."
           "WHAT!" shouts the Mad Tourist, Hank.
           "Because people don`t like cruelty to animals
in these parts, so no one`s going to give you a ride south. Not that there
are  any rides south...  The plane`s the only ride you can get, and it`ll be
 back in..... Artie!"
                      "2262 hours .... give or take 100 hours."
                       "WHAT?" says Hank. He`s starting to catch on again.  Every 
time he starts catching on, he starts to shout...
                        "There`s no way out of here! None at all! Unless you`re a 
muilti-miliionaire - then you could order a Beaver in here
in about  6 hours....only cost you TEN GRAND."
                 Or.... unless you can paddle 2000 miles up river.... Ha! Ha! Me
and Artie laugh..
                  "Well, even the experts can`t do that...
You`ve lost your transportation.And you`d BETTER SHOT THAT HORSE
FAST!  WHILE THERE`S STILL SOMETHING LEFT OF HIM!... Before he runs
 off into a lake  somewhere and stands up to his neck in water for days, 
like the deer do..."  
                   Hank`s grabbin at me again. "Every once in a while you`ll 
see a deer duck his head under the wate to get the FLIES off. Then he`ll 
stand  there in the lake up to his chin in water with his eyes closed
and he won`t move. It`s hard to see èm after a while -  looks just
like a stump"
             Artie pours us another couple of drinks.  Hank and Artie are laughin so
so hard now they`ve starting to GASP...
             ME, I`m trying to tell something the poor fucker how to survive
the next couple of months without losing 105 pounds in a diet 
no sane man would want. 
              " YOUR BEST PLAN IS TO SHOOT HIM QUICK BEFORE HE 
GETS IN TOO DEEP AND THEN YOU`LL NEVER CATCH HIM!  But first
you`re going to have to dig some holes - about twenty of them at least 
four feet deep so you`re down below the frost line..."
             "Good God!  You`re kidding!"  Hanks says.
             "I only wish I were kidding!" I say.