Monday, June 13, 2011


In which we review the highlights of existence. Why can’t one let one’s self go all chimpanzee? So one wants to jump onto a heightened structure and hoot as a way of announcing one’s dominance over one’s perceived enemies: why should we frown? But if one wears shoes, one’s feet becomes more tender, requiring more for the fact that one must need to don said shoes. A panderitious cycle of ever-softening softness. Light us up a candle, Gary. We’re going to toast us some marshmallows.

Moving on to the delicacy of pronunciation. As a person who lives in a place which is not the place near which I was born, I often get razzed on how I say me my words. ‘This is correct,’ they imply, ‘and that is incorrect.’ Poop fiddles. We’ve been here before. Sure, wasn’t it Tacitus who said, ‘Let’er rip any which way you want’em’? I say again, poop fiddles. What is the difference, for example between a ‘bird’ and a ‘beard’? Bad example, perhaps. Birds and beards and boards are all specific representations of themselves. The bard writes of a bird with a beard on a board because he knows what’s what.

And also, Knits a stinK will shortly be going on a mosquito-collecting expedition across the wild boundary waters of Minnesota. Paddle battle galore. If you never read from me again, let force be known that I fought the good fight with the moose. For every action is a noble action in the mind, and those that will submit to the ever-pressing need of the romantic intellect shall be acknowledged to the world, and the world will be grateful. Thank you, end unto end.

Others amongst you will be asking what point I have in dwelling in the manners of the absurd, and for you I have no answer, except for the following:

High on a hill was a lonely goat turd, Yodelay-ee-yodelay-ee-ee-hee-hoo.

But why? Why a goat turd? What was it doing there, and why does it deserve highlighting? I for one am disturbed at the ease with which this sort of sentiment is consumed by the general populace. We must remain even-tempered, however. We must take everything for the value of its face. There has to be some reason why this has gripped our people to such an extent. So we will put ourselves there: we will become the goat turd, so lonely.

What exactly does it mean, for example, to be at such an elevated point, higher most likely than anything else within the eye’s range, buffeted by the wind, cold and afraid, all-seeing but having no one with whom to share? You, the turd, must wonder where all of the other turds have made off to; rolled down the hill, most likely. There’s probably piles of them congregating down in the valley. Gravity plays terrible tricks. So why have you, the lonely turd, been singled out, to find yourself balanced atop the precipice, superior to all, equal to none, so turd-like in your being: unique, irreplaceable, effervescent? What right have you?

And now you see. Now you see what we have to deal with. I’m off to canoe.

[Don't forget to stop by Knits a stinK for raw deals.]

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