In this time of Supreme Court Justice nominations. In commemoration of
COD's ability to born BP again.
SOS Gab & Eti 1.0
My very dear 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, pappy Buck Orgrease, had been
storing out behind the barn since he had brought it home following a
1970 war moratorium, on a steam barge, 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 monochrome Kaypro was summarily fried
during a recent re-enactment of a Nicolai Tesla power transmission
experiment (and, yes, they expect their doggie Altuna will recover
consciousness and thank all their well wishers for the wealth of letters
of sympathy in this time of their pressing anxiety 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 pappy Buck Orgrease. They don't
seem to be able to get him separated from the heirloom rocker in the
basement despite the use of a blow torch and cotton balls soaked in
alum. 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 terminate puerile preservation prattling among pals and the
uncoffee-ed, or to change your settings, go to:
<http://listserv.icors.org/archives/bullamanka-pinheads.html>
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