SOS Gab & Eti 1.0

My friends from grade school, Gabriel and Etidorpha Orgrease, a few months
back, at my encouragement, placed a note on the I-way regarding restoration
techniques appropriate to use on the portable fiberglass toilet that their
father, Buck, had been storing out behind the barn since he had brought it
home following a 1970 war moratorium with the erogenous belief that the
object was, as a representative sampling of American vernacular architecture,
somewhat symbolic of our Nation's hollowed seat.

Gab and Eti regret that their Kaypro was summarily fried during a recent
re-enactment of a Nicolai Tesla power transmission experiment (and, yes, they
expect their hound Altuna will recover consciousness and thank all their true
and dear friends for the wealth of letters of sympathy in this time of their
pressing duress and insist I convey that all the cash donations have come in
handy to cover the bar bills), and being now fried of the technical
obligation to send or receive e-mail, they think they wish to thank everyone,
also, who took the time from their professional careers in historic
preservation to offer them such wonderful advice on what to do with their
inherited John. They also need to know what to do with a petrified pop Buck.
They don't seem to be able to get him separated from the heirloom rocker in
the basement. But that is another set of problems we need not go into here,
possibly later on.

Regrettably, having brought so much public attention to their ass-et (sort of
like a dysfunctional deconstructionist dinette??) the Commonwealth has made a
legal move to confiscate the historic object as Buck expired interstate
following closely on a midnight hooch run.

Feeding into the national proliferation of conspiracy theories, Gab and Eti
believe that the actual acquisitive interest of the Commonwealth resides with
the honorable Judge Yuro Peese Uckerknobb, a highly decorated WW2 veteran,
who, in several grammatically incorrect editorials in the Bullamanka
Bugle-Clarion Rosewater Pennysaver,  has made a vociferous objection to the
patrimony of the Orgrease crapper, laying claim that the whole shebang is a
perpetrated hoax of obese proportions and that the copious goings-on claimed
against the carnal house are a figment of the lunatic fringe of unfettered
liberalism that is rampantly degrading and intermixing the rainbow hues of
Western civilization into a postulant fudge of mono-hued function overlying
organic style and diversity. Nobody really understood anything the Judge was
trying to say and they had all grown weary of trying to decipher the import
of his rantings. It was apparent that Judge Uckerknobb prefers the
touch-feebly warmth of his weathered-oak seat. Despite this, Gab and Eti have
been forced to counter press that the fiberglass box is not all that large
and would accommodate reasonable expected human encounters with the natural,
as well as unnatural, as complicit with the histrionic era of free love, New
Age, and all that be here now bullshit.

To be continued..... Al & Pete on the spiritual plane.

Copyright 1997 Ken Follett
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