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Musings and Rantings

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Y'allbonics.

The Association of Southern Schools has decided to pursue some of the seemingly endless taxpayer dollar pipeline through Washington designating Southern slang, or y'allbonics, as a language to be taught in all Southern schools.   The following are excerpts from the Y'allbonics/English dictionary:     HEIDI - (noun) -Greeting.   HIRE YEW - Complete sentence. Remainder of greeting. Usage "Heidi, Hire yew?"   BARD - (verb) - Past tense of the infinitive "to borrow. "Usage "My brother bard my pickup truck."   JAWJUH - (noun) - The State north of Florida. Capitol is Lanner. Usage "My brother from Jawjuh bard my pickup truck."   BAMMER - (noun) - The State west of Jawjuh. Capitol is Berminhayum. Usage "A tornader jes went through Bammer an' left $20,000,000 in improvements."   MUNTS - (noun) - A calendar division. Usage "My brother from Jawjuh bard my pickup truck, and I ain't herd from him in munts."   THANK - (verb) - Cognitive process. Usage "Ah thank ah'll have a bare."   BARE - (noun) - An alcoholic beverage made of barley, hops, and yeast. Usage "Ah thank ah'll have a bare."   IGNERT - (adjective) - Not smart. See "Arkansas native." Usage "Them bammer boys sure are ignert!"   RANCH - (noun) - A tool used for tight'nin' bolts. Usage "I thank I left my ranch in the back of that pickup truck my brother from Jawjuh bard a few munts ago."   ALL - (noun) - A petroleum-based lubricant. Usage "I sure hope my brother from Jawjuh puts all in my pickup truck."   FAR - (noun) - A conflagration. Usage "If my brother from Jawjuh don't change the all in my pickup truck, that thing's gonna catch far."   TAR - (noun) - A rubber wheel. Usage "Gee, I hope that brother of mine from Jawjuh don't git a flat tar in my pickup truck."   TIRE - (noun) - A tall monument. Usage "Lord willin' and the creek don't rise, I sure do hope to see that Eiffel Tire in Paris sometime."   RETARD - (verb) - To stop working. Usage "My grampaw retard at age 65."   FAT - (noun), (verb) -- a battle or combat; to engage in battle or combat. Usage "You younguns keep fat'n, n' ah'm gonna whup y'uh."   RATS - (noun) - Entitled power or privilege. Usage "We Southerners are willin' to fat for are rats."   CHEER - (adverb) In this place. Usage "Just set that bare rat cheer."   FARN - (adjective) - Not domestic. Usage "I cuddint unnerstand a wurd he sed ... must be from some farn country."   DID - (adjective) - Not alive. Usage "He's did, Jim."   ARE - (noun) - A colorless, odorless gas Oxygen. Usage "He cain't breathe...give 'im some ARE!"   BOB WAR - (noun) - A sharp, twisted cable. Usage "Boy, stay away from that bob war fence."   JEW HERE - (noun) and (verb) contraction. Usage "Jew here that my brother from Jawjuh got a job with that bob war fence cump'ny?"   HAZE - a contraction. Usage "Is Bubba smart?" "Nah...haze ignert. He ain't thanked but a minnit'n 'is laf."   SEED - (verb) -- past tense of "to see".   VIEW - contraction (verb) and pronoun. Usage "I ain't never seed New York City ... view?"   GUBMINT - (noun) - A bureaucratic institution. Usage "Them gubmint boys shore is ignert."

Gaius Octavius

Gaius Octavius

 

Woe Am I!

Monday last, the Domina Claudia :wub: :wub: took off for some place in the boondocks, namely, knoxberg, 10AC. The Imperial Pro-Crastinator was supposed to be left well supplied. Well, the Old Moor Hen Shredded Sporran is almost at an end. The stompings don't look as if they will last the week. Down to the last half dozen beers. I have no idea what the things left in the fridge are.   This is the status quo:   Bride in the boondocks. :wub: :wub: Nurse Mary in Basra. :wub: Private Bohp on maneuvers in Wales. :wub: Lady Farrow is missing. :wub:   The position of 'Lady in Servicing' :wub: is presently open. Please address your applications to: Gaius Octavius.   N.B. - The Earl of Doncaster's application was forwarded to the Duke of Beaufort.   The Pro-Praetor

Gaius Octavius

Gaius Octavius

 

U.S. Military Manual.

WISDOM - FROM THE MILITARY MANUAL "A slipping gear could let your M203 grenade launcher fire when you least expect it. That would make you quite unpopular in what's left of your unit. - Army's magazine of preventive maintenance. ------------------------------------------------------ "Aim towards the Enemy." - Instruction printed on US Rocket Launcher ------------------------------------------------------ "When the pin is pulled, Mr. Grenade is not our friend. -U.S.Marine Corps   ------------------------------------------------------ "Cluster bombing from B-52s are very, very accurate. The bombs are guaranteed to always hit the ground." - USAF Ammo Troop ------------------------------------------------------ "If the enemy is in range, so are you." - Infantry Journal ----------------------------------------------------- "It is generally inadvisable to eject directly over the area you just bombed" -U.S.Air Force Manual ------------------------------------------------------ "Whoever said the pen is mightier than the sword obviously never encountered automatic weapons." - General Macarthur ----------------------------------------------------- "Try to look unimportant; they may be low on ammo." - Infantry Journal ------------------------------------------------------ "You, you, and you . Panic. The rest of you, come with me." - U.S. Marine Corp Gunnery Sgt. ------------------------------------------------------ "Tracers work both ways." -U.S.Army Ordnance ----------------------------------------------------- "Five second fuses only last three seconds." - Infantry Journal ------------------------------------------------------- "Don't ever be the first, ! don't ev er be the last, and don't ever volunteer to do anything." -U.S.Navy Swabbie --------------------------------------------------- "Bravery is being the only one who knows you're afraid." - David Hackworth ------------------------------------------------------- "If your attack is going too well, you're walking into an ambush." - Infantry Journal -------------------------------------------------------- "No combat-ready unit has ever passed inspection." - Joe Gay ------------------------------------------------------ "Any ship can be a minesweeper. Once." ------------------------------------------------------ "Never tell the Platoon Sergeant you have nothing to do." - Unknown Marine Recruit ------------------------------------------------------- "Don't draw fire; it irritates the people around you." - Your Buddies ------------------------------------------------------- "If you see a bomb technician running, follow him." - USAF Ammo Troop ------------------------------------------------------- "Though I Fly Through theValleyof Death, I Shall Fear No Evil. For I am at 80,000 Feet and Climbing." - At the entrance to the old SR-71 operating baseKadena, Japan ------------------------------------------------------- "You've never been lost until you've been lost at Mach 3." - Paul F. Crickmore (test pilot) ------------------------------------------------------- "The only time you have too much fuel is when you're on fire." ------------------------------------------------------- "Blue water Navy truism: There are more planes in the ocean than submarines in the sky." - >From an old carrier sailor ------------------------------------------------------ "If the wings are traveling faster than the fuselage, it's probably a helicopter -- and therefore, unsafe." ----------! -------- ------------------------------------- "When one engine fails on a twin-engine airplane you always have enough power left to get you to the scene of the crash." ------------------------------------------------------- "Without ammunition, the USAF would be just another expensive flying club." ------------------------------------------------------- "What is the similarity between air traffic controllers and pilots? If a pilot screws up, the pilot dies; If ATC screws up, .... The pilot dies." ------------------------------------------------------- "Never trade luck for skill." ------------------------------------------------------- The three most common expressions (or famous last words) in aviation are: Why is it doing that?", "Where are we?" And "Oh S...!" ------------------------------------------------------ "Weather forecasts are horoscopes with numbers." ------------------------------------------------------- "Progress in airline flying: now a flight attendant can get a pilot pregnant" ------------------------------------------------------- "Airspeed, altitude and brains. Two are always needed to successfully complete the flight." ------------------------------------------------------- "A smooth landing is mostly luck; two in a row is all luck; three in a row is prevarication." ------------------------------------------------------- "I remember when sex was safe and flying was dangerous." --------------------------------------------------------- "Mankind has a perfect record in aviation; we never left one up there!" ------------------------------------------------------- "Flashlights are tubular metal containers kept in a flight bag for the purpose of storing dead batteries." ------------------------------------------------------- "Flying the airplane is more important than radioing your plight to a person on the ground incapable of understanding or doing anything about it." --------------------------------! -------- ---------------- "The Piper Cub is the safest airplane in the world; it can just barely kill you." - Attributed to Max Stanley (Northrop test pilot) -------------------------------------------------------- "A pilot who doesn't have any fear probably isn't flying his plane to its maximum." - Jon McBride, astronaut -------------------------------------------------------- "If you're faced with a forced landing, fly the thing as far into the crash as possible." - Bob Hoover (renowned aerobatic and test pilot) -------------------------------------------------------- "Never fly in the same cockpit with someone braver than you." ------------------------------------------------------- "There is no reason to fly through a thunderstorm in peacetime." - Sign over squadron ops desk at Davis-Monthan AFB, AZ, 1970 --------------------------------------------------------- "If something hasn't broken on your helicopter, it's about to." --------------------------------------------------------- Basic Flying Rules: "Try to stay in the middle of the air. Do not go near the edges of it. The edges of the air can be recognized by the appearance of ground, buildings, sea, trees and interstellar space. It is much more difficult to fly there." ------------------------------------------------------- "You know that your landing gear is up and locked when it takes full power to taxi to the terminal." -------------------------------------------------------------- As the test pilot climbs out of the experimental aircraft, having torn off the wings and tail in the crash landing, the crash truck arrives, the rescuer sees a bloodied pilot and asks "What happened?". The pilot's reply: "I don't know, I just got here myself!" - Attributed to Ray Crandell (Lockheed test pilot)

Gaius Octavius

Gaius Octavius

 

Twas This & Nothing More.

Sunday last, as I sat sad and dreary at my computer contemplating posts at UNRV, there came a banging, a gentle banging, from the streets below. Twas the garbage men alerting sleeping citizens of the approaching Midnight Hour. This I thought, and nothing more. Then there came a peace shattering tingle from the phone. Me thought a lost and lonely soul seeking solace at the Plutonian shore. This me thought, and nothing more. Twas a fellow dweller in one of the stacked apartments, seeking my omniscient knowledge. "What's going on?", quoth she. "What are you talking about?" quoth me. "Don't you know?, look out of your window below", babbled she. And this I did as she did implore. Behold, there appeared to me squadrons of fire trucks, ambulances, cop cars, and first responders of all sorts all over the the road ways and walk ways. Their lights all flashing; quite a sight. Some building has gone alight, or some cop has been given a fright. This the god-Consul thought. This he thought, and nothing more. Then in the Stygian depths below, the Consul saw that the corps of cops and sundry were at my building's door. Then me thought that there was something more. Me dressed and flew through the apartment door seeking transportation to the lobby floor as me thought it an arson by my ancient enemies of yore. Twas not thus, the doorman did me implore. Twas some facing of the building falling on the unfortunate heads of unwary citizens wandering about in the the Gloom of Night. Thus twas it, and nothing more.

Gaius Octavius

Gaius Octavius

 

Tidings

Komrades:   Seems that a certain party quoted from his bible over an open mike. Who knows, maybe God told him to do so in one of their recurrent chats. It is my present understanding that folks who talk to God usually become saints or are hauled off to the booby-hatch and not into the now Black House. And getting one of the heads of state attention by belching the Brookfordshiresexington formal "Yo!"   It has also come about that the party of god and freedom and liberty wants to lift the press credentials of the NY Times reporters who let out some minor improprieties of the administration. How wrong I am! Always thought that it was the business of a free press to let the dis-educated masses in on these little tid bits. But then the certain party doesn't read newspapers - like his accolites.   Someone's head (at the State Dep't) is going to get the chop. He complimented a L.A. Times reporter on, of all places, NPR!   The same party vetoed the stem cell research bill. Could have helped him. All that is left is a brain transplant - with a fly - to get his mental faculties up a couple of notches.   Alas, the republik in NYC is trying to sneak through a little bit limiting the the right of the lowly citizen to protest. We tax payers, on his account, now have to pay several hundred millions to the protesters at the republik convention whom he cuffed and threw into the slammer.   As I am aware, all y'all are gravely concerned about the weather situation here in Brookfordshiresexington. It is foul, turgid, sticky and raining but otherwise quite CENSORED - Where does he get this stuff? . It sounds like WWII and as if Yamato and the Missouri were having at it.   Just the facts; just the facts, maam, Gaius

Gaius Octavius

Gaius Octavius

 

The Truth

Now that that rebel, Pantagathus, has driven me to the vine and the stalk, I tell all. As you may or may not know, I have some good looking babe visiting me while the Domina is abroad. She is 21. Now, her sister, who is 16, is going to visit Ameica. She's a knock out also. They will be staying with me next weekend. The building will go beserk! The men will be jealous and the women won't be able to hold their water until the Domina comes home and they tell all. When they were nippers, I bounced them on my knees and was their best friend. Now, the elder won't pour me a libation. Won't buy me a little bell to summon the Domina when I want firewater. Gave the elder the run of the place. So, if I dare say: "Get me some grapes.", I get the retort: "Please!?". The younger one once stuck her index finger in my face, to put me in order! Should have strangled them a long time ago. Love 'em.   Some of the comments on sundry threads on the Forum have reminded me of 'Cyrano', so if you will excuse me for a few hours, I am going to watch the movie. (If I can get the bloody machine to obey instructions.) And ' Love At First Bite", that is if I can make it to the living room without a collapse of my now rubber legs. Thank you, you Greek!   Sigh,

Gaius Octavius

Gaius Octavius

 

The Bells! The Bells! - 2nd Grade.

At first, you must understand that Jacky Kelly and I were the best of friends. Common assaults on each other were a daily practice. Aside from a lot of first-aid, they were of no consequence to neither ourselves, the flatfoots nor our parents, as they all felt that it was much better and safer for us to try to kill each other than for them to do the work. It would also do some little good for our black, sin stained, damned souls.   Visitation Place was a one block street, bounded on one side by a great library building, and a lot in which delinquents practiced mayhem on each other. Even the little angelic girls did not exempt themselves from this form of entertainment. On the other side, stood one end of the church, the rectory, a small graveyard, the school, and the nunnery. (For later reference, at one end of the avenue was Taffy Dick's, and on the other a small park.) No vehicle ever trespassed on this Sacred Boulevard, lest it incur the rage of the nuns. The fact that the criminal urchins would set their tire valves free, and most likely set their wrecks ablaze, did not escape their teamsters.   One day, as usual, we were all having at each other in the lot before school began. Then of a sudden, The Bells!, The Bells! Everyone froze. The Bells made an unbelievable racket. They were as big as the Liberty Bell. How those four foot nothing nuns ever swang those things is well beyond my ken. This meant that we were to gather in front of the girl's or boy's entrance to the asylum according to our preferences. Nuns and priests paraded fro and to, to no great advantage, save to put the fear of God into we innocents. Smacks were administered to the boys on general principle. The nun's habits made a provocative swishing sound. Their perfume was enticing. The next broadside meant that we were to line up in size order in the mud gutter. Wound up in fights, and never resulted in the same order twice. Do you know what a carpet gun is? Never mind. This is when Jacky let go with his gun. The missile hit the left ham of my tender coolie. The resultant was a most unbelievable oweee, and terminal harm to my pantaloons. And there was Jacky with a malignant smirk on his devil blessed Irish visage. Since we were on line, I couldn't get at him. I was left with vowing eternal vengeance against Jacky, and his entire race beyond infinity. The next salute meant for all to march into the institution. Girls on one side; boys facing them. Things and insults were hoven at each other. The Bells! The Bells! The flag; the Pledge of Allegiance; the rote prayers for the good of our feculent souls. Off to class. Boys on one side; girls on the other. What ever did those nuns think that the boys would do to the girls - at this time? We never even thought about patent leather shoes. Did you know that they were forbidden in Catholic society? Well, Sister Felicita gave us some worthless chore, and joined her brethren in a prayer meeting. The ammunition we used for our sling shots was salted chick peas. They could either be used in battle or as a snack. In the latter case, I shan't impinge upon your tender sensibilities with the resultant odiforous qualities. Well, I rose to the occasion, slang my pea shooter at Jacky's iron bound head, and let go. Nailed headquarters but good. Pea shattered into dust. Jacky let out a most hellacious feigned yell that woke the deads in the graveyard. Sister thought it best to revisit her crime lab. Caught me standing there with the evidence in hand and chortling. Gavelled the session to order; confiscated sling shot; wrote out a note, and ordered me to bring it to the nunnery. Had to walk down some steps - a positive evil omen. My stomach churned and vaulted. Pressed upon The Bells. A gorgonish looking nun appeared. Doom was at my heels. She read the note and invited me into the vestibule, and then misappeared behind the inner door. The space was about the size of a small closet. Dark, wood paneled. Yellow stained glass and dim yellow lights. Yes, this was the much dreaded entrance to hell! No place to sit, and thus one wants most to sit. Therefore, I perched my personal coolie on the floor. The inner door opened a crack, and I beheld a bald nun! Bald as a tomato! Yes!, this was hell! Would they roast me? Toast me? Fricassee me? I spent a few terror laden hours there with my heart in my gullet.   Next day, Jacky got me with an ice cream cone - down my shirt!   Thank you Jacky, I hope that you get shingles, and pass your days in agony.

Gaius Octavius

Gaius Octavius

 

Test

Komrades:   I am technologically challenged, (amongst many other things). This is a test as to what happens. I love this site and the people on it. In addition to getting an education on my Glorious Imperial Ancestors of Blessed Memory, I am getting to learn something about using this devils machine. About myself: I lie and obfuscate when necessary. I never pay off on a bet that I have lost, but I expect others to cough up when I win. I have no problems with plagerizing. I can't spell. (Is there a spell checker here?) I am a retired Investment Banker. (The kind who used his own gold and not others.) I am considered lazy, evil and ignorant by some. To friends, relatives and enemies, I am on the wrong side politically, socially and eonomically. No one insults me with impunity - and gets away with it.   And now: The U.S. is pulling out of Afganistan and the Taliban is pushing in. What a waste. Where is Osama? Why in Brooklyn eating pizza.   My Bride took off for the wastes of Michigan to visit friends and get away from me, (for a fortnight) and I am left to fend for myself. A gorgeous young Princess from Michigan, for whom we are acting in loco parentis, is doing an internship in NYC. Some would call it indentured servitude. She spent the last weekend with me. I am sure that my neighbors and the building employees are musing: "His Bride takes off and IT installs a chick." A totally undeserved merit badge. The malignant swine! The kid won't pour a whiskey for me and is on my back about another bad habit of mine.   A cap on a bottle of gook was left unscrewed. Made a mess of the fridge. Gook is forever off of the menu. My jug wine has run out but the rot gut whiskey is fine.   Did you know that the province of Michigan has a giant mushroom growing under it? That Detroit sits atop a salt mine? Now you do.   Now to see if all this takes. Somebody please post a 'comment'.   Si vales; valeo, Gaius

Gaius Octavius

Gaius Octavius

 

Taxes!

Since I will probably be a member of the 'Damnatio" by Evening Song, let me get this off of my chest. I am perfectly willing to return all the meager taxes you Liberarians and other neo-con job artists have ever paid on your paltry income, with compound interest at the then prevailing Treasury bond rate. I will now teach you what 'Capitalism' is. If you ever breathe the air, ching-ching, at MY rate. If you ever go to a university, hospital, ball park - ching-ching. Have a sewer line, telephone, ching-ching, at MY calling. Dare to comesticate anything that has passed the King's highway, ching-ching. Even if you cultivate the seeds that have traversed the King's highway - ching-ching. Drive your Kia, on MY roads, ching-ching. Since you have gotten all your taxes back, when you fall ill, it will be up to your spawn to care for you. Your doctor won't be able to get into a hospital on your account, unless he pays MY rates. Get the idea? I'd rather pay an illegal Mexican's truck, than have to pay yours. He is willing to pay taxes to live in AMERICA!   Please don't go to Hell, I don't want to meet up with you.

Gaius Octavius

Gaius Octavius

 

Some Correspondence

Done with the permission of the contra party (Praebitorae). -----------------------------------------------------------000--------------------------------------------------------------------   QUOTE "Hey, My Lady:   Actually, it's not very funny to me.   These sub-morons drive me to distraction. Yeah, lets kill all the Jews! Even the doctors who are keeping me alive! Even my neighbors! The ones I joke with, and have lunch with. And then there was my Grand Aunt, who may have been Jewish. Liberini, an orphan, who I loved as much as my Mother. Just great! We can do without all that the Jewish people have contributed to mankind. General Eisenhower and President Truman had those beastly, inhuman murder camps filmed for posterity. On that account, Gen. Eisenhower wouldn't accept Adm. Doernitz' surrender. I have a lot of whiskey in me now, so I'm not going to hold back. (Somehow, I can no longer use the word 'Jews'. It seems so deprecatory to me.) That bastard, hitler, should have been strangled at birth. Kill people because of their religion, race, deformities or sexual proclivities? That bastard was a pervert of the worst kind. Some of my Jewish friend's parents served honorably in the German army of WWI. They were Germans and never deserved what those bastards did to them.   I am often sorry to say that I am a Christian, when I read of pogroms and ghettos. We didn't mind borrowing Jewish peoples' money though.   O! G_d, this is enough!   Try to contribute to the 'Gold' blog."   Response:   "Hey   I hope it did good to throw it all out. And of course you're right all the way, beeing a Habiruh myself I KNOW what you're talking about.(I don't use the term Jews. Even if the Habiruh are just a tinny little group) The man's apparant stupidety and bleatnant ignorance was more the reason why I laughed about him. From Nephele you might have heard that I happend to be a deaf mute a herritance that goes straith back to exactly those camps I have thus no love for Germans in general. My granny was one of twins and captured in Normandy I need not tell you explecit where she was brought to.... There are good Germans ofcourse (my dad would say "Lets hang them on NEW ropes!" If I am correct in the numbers about 12.500 Germans of Habiruh birth where decorated in W.W.1.   We must learn to forgive is a sentence often spoken at us, but the essence of being a Habiruh is to "remmember" becourse THAT'S what the word believe means in Hebrew! It's hard to forgive if one (still!) see's the effects of what has been done in this dreadfull years by these dreadfull people. Even I (2d generation) must fear not to give birth to a girl for she (3th) could easely inherit from me what I have!   Can I blame the young Germans of today? should I do onto them what I would not like done onto me? one would say no. I have however understood that many young Germans still hang on and even romantisaise that piece of history often even denouncing many things to have happend. This people we call the "forever yesterday's" there to be found in all kind off German forums and indeed in the I.R of wich I gave you a link (I thought you to be there chieff, remember?.)   You should absolutly NOT be ashamed beeing a Christian, wasn't Michael Angelo one ore Mother Theressa? not to forget my own dad no,its not the Relegion that shames (ore should) people its the thing people make of it thinking they know what God wanted or mend! If youre heart is pure it matters nought what others do with that Religion for Adonai sees into yours and judges you for youre deeds disregarding the upinion of others. Adonai doesn't gamble!   Greetings 'E"     My Beautiful Lady:   Would you please allow me to put our two notes above into my blog? I will only use you name if you allow me. Those bastards should NEVER be forgotten! Or FORGIVEN. My Beautiful Lady, stupidity and ignorance are not to be laughed at. It should be condemned eternally.   Your friend, Tom     Pleace do so ,I read the Blog and wrote a small piece to it. Sometimes things do just take some time with me. Those people won't be forgotten neither forgiven as we never fogave Pharao for holding us in Slavery or the Romans for bringing the Diasporra upon us. In a Thousand years we'll still memmorate those killed by the Germans and the name of Hitler will never vanish from oure memmory. The names of sibbelings of mine that died during my life time will never be forgotten nor the name of the one to blame the Nuhnt called Mengle! Last year we had the satifaction off seeing my uncle robbing the Mengle family of a large part of Joseph Mengle's herritage (wich he had invested into there buisness in 1945/46) Some,if late and far to less, iustice still can be found in this world but we have to fight for it and we can only fight the right way if we controlle oure feelings of hate and revenge how understandable they might be.   Eich ffrind chi (chi =more abt less formal than "ce" ) Youre Friend 'E

Gaius Octavius

Gaius Octavius

 

Sigh!

Komrades:   La Belle France beat Espana. The radio trash talkers will be besides themselves. What will the wrong rev. robberson chalk it up to? Metrosexuality?   Now I get it! After all these years! The N.Y. Times has been in the forefront of treason and sedition. Thank you pres. chinney! Didn't know that all y'all could read. The Times no less.You had better get under the beds of the miscreants who leaked the stuff. How is the Valerie Pflame affair going? Not to be too nosy, but how's your Halliburton stock doing? We all know that you were much too busy to get involved in the Vietnam business. Have any of your close relatives made up for it in this fiasco?   Hey prez, not to be too soliticous, but how's the guy who maliciously got in the way of your blunderbuss? :sniper:   Poor flush rimflour! Got caught with unprescribed Viagara. That goes a long way toward explaining his now enforced polygyny. Must pay close attention to his alibi. Don't worry, old boy, your fellow trash talkers are cicrcumlocuting the wagons.   Now we have two snow-jobs in the once White House.   Now it is a billion bucks plus to put up a memorial to the WTC victims, which will make a bunch of racketeers much richer. How about setting up a fund to educate poor kids. Whoops! Forgot! It's the kids own fault for being born poor. Should pick themselves up by their boot straps. Just like chinney and busch did.   Did you know that the herbert-walkers made a pile selling faulty boots to the Union Army. When confronted with this, it was unfolded that they thought that they were for the cavalry. Thank you Wall Street Journal.   Just got cracked on the noggin by Domina Claudia. When the question was put to she who must be obeyed, the retort was that it was for future transactions :fish:   Sigh,

Gaius Octavius

Gaius Octavius

 

School.

I was sitting cross legged in front of the radio. My elbows on my knees and my chin perched on my palms. I was listening to the Lone Ranger. I was galloping on Silver and plugging owlhoots. My reverie was rudely interrupted when I heard the two most odious words in the English language - Thamiss and school - all in the same sentence! Thamiss has plagued me all my life. Somehow it comes natural to humans. I think that it is the first word my grand-niece ever uttered. It follows me like a curse. It has always meant that I was in big trouble.   I made enquiry of my loved ones as to the meaning of this evil omen. Thamiss, you're going to kindergarten. Oh, yeah!, when did this come about? Did you consult me? Do I get a vote? Yes, Thamiss, you are going to Catholic school. What? Have you lost all sense of propriety? Those nuns feed little tykes to the devil. This is not for me. Look, you keep saying to me that I'll never amount to anything but the guy who rinses off the dishes - not even the dish washer. So what's the point of school? I know everything I need to know for a life of crime. Leave things as they are and stop interrupting my programs. The Green Hornet is next.   A few days later I went to sleep dreaming of a glorious day to come. Came morning, the evil word Thamiss was shouted. Get up; take a shower. Why, was I working in the mines? Go away. I need my rest. I'm only a kid. Get out of bed or the hand of doom strikes. Performed the required ablutions and then was confronted with the silliest set of clothing I ever saw. Knickers! Long socks! Eton collar! Tie! Jacket! White shirt! Brown and white saddle shoes! Do we have a visitor? Is this garb for my brother? Am I going to kindergarten or Yale? It's for you Thamiss. You're kidding. I'll never live this down. I'll be a laughing stock. How can I steal comics from Epstein? The cops will nail me 1,2,3. Thaaaamissss, get moving. This is a conspiracy. You know that this stuff is coming back shredded. Then you are going to practice karate on me.   Now, I am decked out in his silly uniform; my Mother has a firm grasp on my hand and we are off to hell. Ma, there's a bug, I'm going to step on it. That's what you think. Look, a nickel. I can use it. Tomorrow. Can I play on the monkey bars one last time? You can, but you may not! Rats!   We had a small park to walk through before we hit hell. One minor point before we continue. I had wild flaxen hair, surrounding a cowlick, that always looked as if it had exploded. This made it easy for adults to grab a hand full and yank my head around. This was not a secret to my Mother. She experimented as we ambled. Got to hell and was duly enrolled by Mother Superior and ceremoniously introduced at the dungeon. The girls were situate at the window. Oh!, so cute. Ribbons and bows in their hair. Played so nice with the blocks. The little monsters. To my right were my buddies. To my left some kids that we didn't know. Each gang glowered at the other. Experience taught that this did not bode well for any concerned. I gave my Mother a head start and then bolted. I beat her home by a long shot. But there was no one to play with. Only some cocooned urchins who could only dribble. Mother soon put in an appearance. I'll leave the rest to your informed imagination. After a good night's recuperation, the previous days exercise was repeated - with a pork pie hat! This time I sat with my pals. As usual, the girls were cackling. The two gangs sat in absolute silence, glowering at each other, mayhem bent. Sister took a hike. A few moments passed and the gangs were at each others throats. Collars flying. Shirts shredded. Jackets torn to rags. Who was strangling who with the ties. Somebody was trying to rip my knickers off while I was biting some guy's nose. Of a sudden, silence commenced to reign. Mother Superior had put in a cameo appearance. All four feet nothing of a woman dressed in black with starched head dress and bib. She wielded a short pointer. The boys were ordered to line up and to put their palms up. She worked that pointer like a woman possessed! Ouch! Ouch! Owww! Our hands were of no assistance for some good time. Our names were collected for further proceedings in the near future.   Ah, the joy of ones first school days.

Gaius Octavius

Gaius Octavius

 

Sale!

A couple of y'all are aware of the fact that I took a hit in the Imperial Portfolio. I am trying to make up this short fall with a Black Sale of my monograph: "On the Rudiments of Elementary Bad Manners"; a necessity for those lacking in the matter. It is offered at the previously unheard of pre-certified pre-discounted discounted price of 69 bucks. (Plus taxes and S&H.) But wait! Order one and you'll get two! Give one to a needy friend. You'll also get a C-note rebate!

Gaius Octavius

Gaius Octavius

 

Question

Yo, My Lord Pertinax:   Is it 'bombs away' or 'bombs aweigh'?   Your obliged servant,

Gaius Octavius

Gaius Octavius

 

Problems!

Some members of the Forum seem to have some minor problems these days. Really, nothing of any consequence compared to mine. Cogitate:   My Bride was supposed to go on a cruise in the Carib starting Thursday last, for a fortnight. She was supposed to meet a gaggle of her pals from 10uhC and mis(take)again in San Juan, P.R., on that day, to commence their carousing. Since La Donna Sophia, and Lady Farrow were otherwise occupied, I made arrangements for Lady Jane (Bury-Me-In- A-"Y"-Shaped-Coffin.) Harrington to make her appearance on Friday. It was decided to leave the Imperial Chariot in the mud gutter rather than in the car barn so that I could take the wandering Bride to the airport. Now, I have a plaque that allows me to park on the wrong side of the street. Tuesday was a cold day, so I figured that the Chariot was lonely. I went down to turn the engine over and keep the Chariot company for a while. A good looking 'meter maid' hove into view and commenced to make herself important by minutely examining the stickers on the windshield. Whilst she was thus occupied, I noticed a squirrel take a leap out of the tree behind her. The little bugger climbed up her leg and took a nip out of one of her cheeks of shame! You can't imagine the hellacious racket she made racing down to the corner. Woke napping gargoyles. Startled the ambling peasantry. The little tree rat sat there looking at me and hunched his shoulders as if to ask what happened.   Shortly, I heard the wailing of a siren and saw flashing lights. The squad car stopped behind me. Two flatfeets exited with the screaming meter maid. "Cuff him! Shoot him! He trained that squirrel to bite my personal coolie!" Little guy scampered up the tree; commenced munching on something, and took all in. The now sniggering cops asked for my side of the story. Asked them if they ever heard of a trained squirrel? Told them that it was probably a migrant Mexican dumper biting vampire squirrel. Cops cracked up (no pun intended). Meter maid made for one of their six-shooters. Failed, thank God. Told little guy acorns were in the usual place.   Ahh, but this wasn't an end to my woes. Wednesday, the weather frauds looked into their crystal balls and decided that there would be a foot's worth of snow over night. Chariot to the barn; reserve limo. Naturally, the airline canceled the flight a couple of hours before lift off. There wasn't enough snow on the ground to make a decent snowball! Push panic button; commence to worry about Lady Jane and Bride crossing paths. Bride holds on for over an hour trying to connect with a human at airline. Gaius gets on cell phone and punches a number at which one may buy a ticket. Eight minutes later, problem solved. Gaius has a couple of shots of rum. Bride will catch Friday AM rocket. Close calls, but all turned out well.   Lady Jane presently out purchasing her favorite wine.   That is a true bill of affairs as they stand to the moment.   Lord Black Adder

Gaius Octavius

Gaius Octavius

 

Poor Brits!

You are aware, of course, of the ill begotten rich Brit investmant bankers shuffled off to texass to answer to the magistrates for their peccadillos in re the Enron affair. Well, well founded rumors have it that the red necks are practicing with their ropes preparatory to a neck stretching party. Beer, skittles and bar-b-que will be served at the party. All s are invited.   This little bit popped up. It seems that the Department of Defense has been selling hi-tech military stuff to any and all comers. We're worried about Osama and sundry scoundrels?   Sheeesh,

Gaius Octavius

Gaius Octavius

 

Pertinax In Peril.

It has devolved to the PRESENCE to relate the sad intelligence that His Grace, The Lord of the Herbs, Pertinax, :notworthy: is presently situate in the donjon of the Highland Laird, Peter of Perth. It came about in this fashion:   Whilst presiding at a Perfect Patented Pertimaxus party in a popular porter pleasure parlour in the Port of Perth in Perthshire, a Pictish piper was playing some moaning and groaning on his pipes in the pronaos. When His Grace :notworthy: had had his fill of the noise, he politely put a request to the Pictish piper: "Please play something resembling an English air or a pleasant polonaise." The polluted Pictish piper paid no attention to the humble prayer of the Patron of the Party :notworthy: and went about his now parlous piping. Upon Pertinax :notworthy: repeating his petition, the plastered piping pultroon continued his skirling at his palpable peril. Pertinax' :notworthy: next entry in the book of account, was to plant a punch on the piper's puker. The potted pultroon plunged to the portico pavement comatose. The now petrified and perplexed pub proprietor summoned the Perthshire constabulary. In all the confusion, His Grace :notworthy: plucked the purse of the Pictish piper.   The Perth police dragooned our Hero :notworthy: off to the precincts of the Perthshire Provincial Peregrine Propraetor. This magistrate held a prolusion at which a proces-verbal was conducted. No consideration whatsoever was given to P's :notworthy: procere in the Brigantine Boondocks. Pertinax :notworthy: was denied bail and ordered to be held in the Pokey of Peter of Perth.   There Our Hero :notworthy: languishes as your indubitable, indomitable, inebriated intelligencer scribbles.

Gaius Octavius

Gaius Octavius

 

Pantagathus in Peril!

If you have been paying any attention to my blog, then you know that Pantagathus has been plagued by weresquirrels. He has been trying to cultivate some rare species of flora, namely, daisies, in the wilderness called a garden in those parts. Simply put: he plants and waters; the squirrels munch and water. His Greekness finally had enough. He engaged the services of Sherlock Plopodopulous, and his brother Hercule Terraproctulos. They in turn hired the famous Cherokee Indian tracker, Ashley Wilkes. Tracked the varmints to P's friend's estate, Tara, habited by the infamous Grand Redneck, Rhett Butler. Hercule's and Sherlock's investigation concluded that Rhett had been starving the little tree rats, and then siccing them onto the wilderness for lunch. Very calmly, as is his wont, P decided to exact vengeance. He unearthed his ancient Greek Fire equipment, and charged it up. Ambled over to Rhett's place, and circumnavigated it with the gooey Greek stuff. Got the jalopy in the airy-way for good measure. When the so-called garage exploded as a consequence of the ammunition Rhett kept in store for the expected Yankee invasion, it startled the grits out of our hero. A good old fashioned blaze was the result. However, P did make one blunder. He stuck around to admire his handiwork. When the fire brigade arrived, they took note that P was smoking as a result of a minor mishap while engaged in the arson. His hair was also ablaze, so they watered him down, with the well water, and summoned the local carabinere. They hauled P off to the assizes where judge Beauregarde Roy Bean gave him six months on the georgia chain gang plus restitution, in kind, to the cavalier chevalier. Doesn't get much computer time, as electricity really hasn't reached those parts to any great degree. When they do use it, it's to fry some poor Yankee driver for 'speeding'. P will be cut loose soon, but he will have to devote much of his time rebuilding Rhett's bungalow.

Gaius Octavius

Gaius Octavius

 

Pantagathus II.

I am sure that all y'all have noted that My Lord of the Greeks, Pantagathus :notworthy: is AWOL. You have also probably noted that he is now from Erebus. Blackness! The Son of Chaos! Mt Erebus is the world's southern most volcano, and the largest by volume. He is presently having Vulcan make a sword for him to get at those pesky weresquirrels and the protohominid who invaded the manor house. :sniper:   When matters are settled, My Lord :notworthy: will search for another place to come from.  

Gaius Octavius

Gaius Octavius

 

Pantagathus

My Dearest Romans:   It has fallen to my saddened lamentable lot to have to inform you of the recent savaging of His Greekness, Don Giovanni :notworthy:, by a squardron of savage squirrels (Arboratus Rodentus Ratus).   Whilst he was gargling a brew, and taking in the visions of lightly clad maidens, the lately reported cowardly Red Coated vulture, cruelly interrupted his sanguine reverie and swooped down and fowlly snuffed another innocent chipmunk. This action could no longer stand. His Greekness :notworthy: , sprang to the Browning, (which he constantly keeps to hand in the event of a Yankee raid), and blew the plumed fowl murderer to kingdom come. Feathers all over the homestead. The racket caused a great alarm in the resident squirrel community and fearing that they were next in line for a judicious reckoning, they presumed it best that they attack first. Armed with acorn onagers and specially sharpened teeth, they had at the startled unprepared and besotted Pantagathus :notworthy:,(Peace be with him.). He did not give in easily. Fur, flesh and other sorts of gore ornamented the estate. His Domina put in a cameo appearance and laden with sundry armaments, made short work of the varmints. RIP   Thenceforth, His Greekness :notworthy: , was given another brew and carted off in a most casual fashion to Greate Basil's Memorial Hospital. He is lying in state, in a full body cast, in total traction, in the ICU unit. Tubes are coming out of him like a spaghetti dinner. Fortunately, one is connected to a keg of ale which is recharged daily. He shall be amongst the missing until recovery or a miracle.   His Greekness :notworthy: has requested that in lieu of flowers, candy, fruit and such waste, that you send to me, (Whoever I am at this moment and at where ever I reside at same moment) such gold, currency, coupons, stamps or anything of great value that you intend for him :notworthy:   Whoever, whatever and where ever I am now,

Gaius Octavius

Gaius Octavius

 

Options.

I hope that I have the names right, but here goes anyway:   Once upon some good hundred plus years ago, Commodore Vanderbuilt was collecting railroads. He decided the Erie Railroad would be nice to have, so he started buying up its stock. Now, there was a chap called Jay Gould, who really owned the RR. JG thought that it would be a very good idea to print up stock certificates as fast as the good Comm. could buy them. For some unearthly reason, the Comm. got the idea that he had bought the RR a couple of times. Sent his henchmen to JG's headquarters at the Erie station in Hoboken, N.J., and behold, stacks of certificates being printed up. Matters were settled by a gunfight at the station. Personally, I don't see why the good Comm. should have become so exercised. It was a free market after all.   I would like to know if you think this type of peccadillo could happen again???  

Gaius Octavius

Gaius Octavius

 

Oh, Jove!

Fellow Boozers:   Some Korean Mooney type, named Rock Lee, has invaded America. This new blister hath sattethe on the right side of God. He hathethe commanded angels. But can't seem to get that walking on water thingy right. Probably can't do the Cana bit either. Will trade him for a couple of millions of wetbacks - or one Brigantine - or yea, and I sayethe unto all y'all, Col. Rupert Rebel!   Domina Claudia, in Her wisdom, has just named me Pontifex Messimus. I wonder why?   Some Russian has worked out the Pointcare(?) mathematical problem as to wheather we are all dieing on a meatball or a dough nut shaped object in space. Thrilling!   Had recourse to matico this AM after erring whilst shaving.   Bride back to rationing booze again. Need a little ting-a-ling bell to summon Her when the SENATOR is in need of refreshments. After shampooing the headquarters, will command Her to give me a haircut. Can you believe it, Gasper has jacked up the price of haircuts from a quarter! Refuse to encourage such inflation.   ,

Gaius Octavius

Gaius Octavius

 

Ode on UNRV.

February is the dreariest month of the year. Pantagathus and Perinax aren't here. La Donna Sophia will seldom appear. Nephele wears combat boots this time of year. And Ursus can be a pain in the rear.   Faustus needs a good tax man. Coldrail is locked in the porta can. The Klingon is a frozen man. Kosmic eats frogs out of a tin can. And Ramses can be a pain in the can.   Moon has a corner on gold. L W has a nasty cold. MPC will never fold. The G-Man is very bold. And a swift kick to GO's butt is foretold.   GPM is lost in lovely Warwick. DoLl eats sushi from a stick. Viggen was robbed by a Serbian hick. P.P. endures this motley clique. And we'll all be blessed by his Holeyness, Pope Mal(icious)adict.    

Gaius Octavius

Gaius Octavius

 

Obituary.

Since I make fun of everyone, here's one on me:   PORCOFACIO UNSCRUPULATO     San Francisco contractor, Porcofacio Unscrupulato, 68, of Canale Capone, North Beach, died yesterday from injuries he received in the collapse of a building he was inspecting, prior to sale to Roosevelt Moses of Oakland.   Born in Molto Pubisco, Italy, Unscrupulato was brought to this country at age 11 by his parents, Regurgito and Nauseata Unscrupulato.   Active for many years in community affairs, Unscrupulato took time from his early employment with the Strangulata Cesspool Cleaning and Catering Co. to appear in local nightclubs, performing a knife-throwing act with the late Inadverto Castrato. Prior to his death, Unscrupulato was president of the Insubstante Construction Co., which he operated with his brother, Devio.   Unscrupulato was a member of the Federated Sons of Sicily, Luciano Chapter, The Putrido Chianti and Marching Society, Crococitto's Fine Arts and Bocci Club, Insanitario's Pizzeria Bowling Team, and past president of the North Beach Enforcer Protection Benevolent Society and Garden Club.   He is survived by his wife, Inconsolata; sons Retardo, Cretino, Imbecilico and Faggotini: daughters Ovaria, Fallopia and Orgasma; sisters Mrs, Mammaria Penduloso, Mrs. Prolifica Fornicata and Mrs. Conspicua Testiculata; and 17 grandchildren, all of the Canale Capone address.   The Rev. Celibato Infortunato of Santo Buffone R.C. Church will offer a solemn requiem Mass Wednesday, following services at the Rigorio-Mortisco Funeral Home and Excavating Co. Internment will be in Addio Basta Cemetery.     Love the local weekly newspapers.

Gaius Octavius

Gaius Octavius

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