Jump to content
UNRV Ancient Roman Empire Forums

Gaius Octavius

Equites
 View Profile  See their activity

  • Posts

    3,293

  • Joined

  • Last visited

 Content Type 

Blog Entries posted by Gaius Octavius

  1. Gaius Octavius

    Obituary.

    By Gaius Octavius,

    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.
  3. Gaius Octavius

    Letters & Words

    By Gaius Octavius,

    Sundry criminals have been at work on the English language for ages. It is high time these miscreants were brought to book.
     
    Let us examine the letter "H".
     
    Not pronounced in 'eight' where it lives; prounced in Sean where it is on vacation.
    Not pronounced in 'ghost' (yes, yes, I know, it tells us how to pronounce the 'g'). OK, so, gho ghet ghum. Lets be consistent. The Irish don't bother pronouncing it in 'thanks', but they do in 'Sean'. Koo-koo, no?
    Thought, bought, caught! Pronounce that last 'h'? No way Jose!
    I know! What about the likes of how, hero, help and hello? Just drop the 'h'. Would anyone call the spelling cops if we wrote ow, ero, elp and ello? Of course not. No one rats on 'herb'! Saves ink, time and wear and tear on the eyes. Some Brits say it this way anyway. And they invented the confounding confounded language. Mite just as well use ghoti. Nothing but a trouble maker.
    Tear is another beaut that needs work.
     
    Let us proceed to the criminal "K".
     
    Knock; two k's - wats de point ere? Ghet rid of dem and you wind up wit 'noc'. Just as ghood!
    Knight? nite! Knew? new! Kale? cale! Knave? nave! Kind? cind! Keen? ceen! Ghood enuf for the Romans; ghood enuf for me.
     
    On to some useless words.
    Moot. Once debatable now undebatable. Or do I ave it bacwards? Ghet wat I mean?
    Good. Bad! Wats de point of being ghood anyow? Dere is no suce ding as a ghood proto-neo-con. Dats an oxyignoranus!
    Foul, fowl? Run de to togeder in speece and you ave no idea of wats ghoing on.
     
    Put dis one on your tounge. De bride, nee Neigh, said nay at de altar. So it ghoes in speece: De bride nay nay, said nay at de altar? Lovely!
     
    Look, dis confuses little vagabonds and de prezident, so lets elp em. Ghet rid of all dis twaddle and little cids will danc uz. Den we can be proud of gheeorgy-poo.
    De nicompoop is constantly adding words suce as 'fascistististists' and 'conservatistismist' along wit de required nucUlar.
    Now, ere is were I need your elp. De following words need plurals and possessives.
     
    Ignorattus
     
    Illiteratus
     
    Ignoranus
     
    And so I propose dat we :giljotiini: 'H' & 'K'. Ghet rid of some words and add de above tree too de lexicon. Dey are interesting words and sound nise. Very appropriate wen describing certain proto-neo ominid kriminals.
  4. Gaius Octavius

    Pantagathus

    By Gaius Octavius,

    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,

  5. Gaius Octavius
    Gaius Octavius:
     
    QUOTE(Moonlapse @ Sep 22 2007, 01:26 PM)
    Fiat money...
     
     
    I doubt if a modern economy could exist without fiat money. The transaction amounts are much too great.
    When the Spanish introduced New World gold to Europe, there was a great inflation!
    ---------------------------------
    Moonlapse:
     
    QUOTE(Gaius Octavius @ Sep 23 2007, 12:24 PM)
    QUOTE(Moonlapse @ Sep 22 2007, 01:26 PM)
    Fiat money...
     
    I doubt if a modern economy could exist without fiat money.
     
    You are absolutely right, and that is the THE problem. Actually, I should say modern war-driven economies.
     
    QUOTE
    The transaction amounts are much too great.
     
    If a nation has a fixed currency standard and a certain amount of wealth, then all other amounts are relative to that... until you want to force a debt based monetary system in order to sped more money than is available.
     
    QUOTE
    When the Spanish introduced New World gold to Europe, there was a great inflation!
     
    Of course. The supply of the actual commodity which has intrinsic value had increased. Paper money has no intrinsic value, whoever controls the supply has the ability to do what the Spanish did, but all that is involved is the allocation of credit, WITH INTEREST. The only limit they have is the point at which they have sucked out all the value that the original gold currency contained.
    -----------------------------------------------
    G.O.:
     
    Moonlapse, are you advocating a commodity based monetary system?
    -----------------------------------------------
    Moon.:
     
    Absolutely.
     
    "Bankers own the earth; take it away from them but leave them with the power to create credit, and, with a flick of the pen, they will create enough money to buy it all back again. Take this power away from them and all great fortunes like mine will disappear, and they ought to disappear, for then this world would be a happier and better world to live in. But if you want to be slaves of bankers and pay the cost of your own slavery, then let the bankers control money and control credit."
    Josiah Stamp
     
    "I believe that banking institutions are more dangerous to our liberties than standing armies. If the American people ever allow private banks to control the issue of their currency, first by inflation, then by deflation, the banks and corporations that will grow up around [the banks] will deprive the people of all property until their children wake-up homeless on the continent their fathers conquered. The issuing power should be taken from the banks and restored to the people, to whom it properly belongs."
    Thomas Jefferson
     
    "A great industrial nation is controlled by it's system of credit. Our system of credit is concentrated in the hands of a few men. We have come to be one of the worst ruled, one of the most completely controlled and dominated governments in the world--no longer a government of free opinion, no longer a government by conviction and vote of the majority, but a government by the opinion and duress of small groups of dominant men."
    Woodrow Wilson
     
    "In the absence of the gold standard, there is no way to protect savings from confiscation through inflation. ... This is the shabby secret of the welfare statists' tirades against gold. Deficit spending is simply a scheme for the confiscation of wealth. Gold stands in the way of this insidious process. It stands as a protector of property rights. If one grasps this, one has no difficulty in understanding the statists' antagonism toward the gold standard."
    Alan Greenspan
     
    I would never advocate a fiat monetary system, because it will always be used for its capability to extract wealth and control. Why do you think the system was implemented right before the first World War? Why do you think the dollar is dropping against other currencies? What do you think is happening in the Middle East? We are trying to prop up the dollar with the commodity of oil, because the dollar is becoming worthless. If the dollar becomes worthless, then what happens?
    -------------------------------------------
    M. Porcious Cato:
     
    In his new book, Greenspan repeats his views about the overwhelming benefits of the gold standard for a stable money supply. I'll see if I can find the original quote because it's quite revealing.
     
    I should add that a gold standard doesn't mean that people would have to actually carry out transactions in gold. All that matters is that bank notes are redeemable in gold.
    ------------------------------------------
    Moon.:
     
    I would love to see a return to the gold standard, with the control of money given back to Congress and the selection of Senators given back to the states, as prescribed in the Constitution.
     
    Basically, repeal all the screw-ups made in 1913.
    -----------------------------------------
    MPC:
     
    If bank notes are redeemable in gold, there is no need for a national currency.
    -----------------------------------------
    MPC:
     
    From Greenspan's new book:
     
    pp. 480-481: "I have always harbored a nostalgia for the gold standard's inherent price stability--a stable currency was its primary goal. But I've long since acquiesced in the fact that the gold standard does not readily accommodate the widely accepted current view of the appropriate functions of government--in particular the need for government to provide a social safety net. The propensity of Congress to create benefits for constituents without specifying the means by which they are to be funded has led to deficit spending in every fiscal year since 1970, with the exception of the surpluses of 1998 to 2001 generated by the stock market boom. The shifting of real resources required to perform such functions has imparted a bias toward inflation. In the political arena, the pressure to make low-interest-rate credit generally available and to use fiscal measures to boost employment and avoid the unpleasantness of downward adjustments in nominal wages and prices has become nearly impossible to resist. For the most part, the American people have tolerated the inflation bias as an acceptable cost of the modern welfare state. There is no support for the gold standard today, and I see no likelihood of its return. [...]
     
    We know that the average inflation rate under the gold and earlier commodity standards was essentially zero. At the height of the gold standard between 1870 and 1913, just prior to World War I, the cost of living in the United States, as calculated by the Federal Reserve Bank of New York, rose by a scant 0.2 percent per annum on average. From 1939 to 1989, the year of the fall of the Berlin Wall and before the onset of the post-cold war wage-price disinflation, the CPI rose nine-fold, or 4.5 percent per year. The reflects the fact that there is no inherent anchor in a fiat money regime. What constitutes its "normal" inflation rate is a function solely of a country's culture and history. In the United States, modest amounts of inflation are politically tolerated, but inflation rates close to double digits create a political storm. Indeed, Richard Nixon felt the political need to impose wage and price controls in 1971 even though the inflation rate was below 5 percent. Thus, while political considerations mean that the gold standard can be ruled out as a way to suppress a forthcoming rise in inflationary pressures, ironically, politics driven by an irate populace just might accomplish the same purpose."
     
    What follows is a very scary scenario regarding the combination of the collapse of social security and currently high inflation, requiring a rise in the interest rate in the double digits and a "return of populist, anti-Fed rhetoric, which was lain dormant since 1991."
     
    Greenspan's book is definitely worth a read.
    --------------------------------------------
    GO:
     
    How would a gold standard work? Assume that a bank has 100 ounces of gold (capital and depositor's gold). How would it go about making loans (and protect itself against 'runs')? Would it be a gyro bank?
    --------------------------------------------
    MPC:
     
    QUOTE(Gaius Octavius @ Oct 1 2007, 06:44 AM)
    How would a gold standard work? Assume that a bank has 100 ounces of gold (capital and depositor's gold). How would it go about making loans (and protect itself against 'runs')? Would it be a gyro bank?
     
     
    Typically, banks made loans and conducted business via bank notes that were redeemable in gold, which were kept in deposit. This is really no different from the fiat currency that we all expect banks to disburse on demand. Then, as now, there was a short-term risk of runs on the banks, which banks dealt with then, as now, by borrowing from other banks. Of course, the cost of a panic isn't trivial, but the benefits of stable currency are well worth it.
    --------------------------------------------
    GO:
     
    Is there any limit to this expansion? Do you think that one could conduct Wall Street's business today and how?
     
    Once there were Gold Certificates issued by the Treasury or Fed (no longer remember) prior to the great Depression. They were in circulation. Didn't stop the Great Deflation.
     
    The Federal Reserve used (?) to balance check clearance balances with special Gold Certificates. Oddly enough, those districts losing Certificates would find themselves in economic trouble.
    ---------------------------------------------
    MPC:
     
    QUOTE(Gaius Octavius @ Oct 1 2007, 11:58 AM)
    Is there any limit to this expansion? Do you think that one could conduct Wall Street's business today and how?
     
    Absolutely there is a limit to the expansion of gold and thus to the expansion of prices. If we were to go back to the gold standard (at $733 = 1 gold dollar), there would certainly have to be a change in denomination, but there's no reason that one couldn't trade any number (or denominations) of proxies for gold reserves.
     
     
    QUOTE
    Once there were Gold Certificates issued by the Treasury or Fed (no longer remember) prior to the great Depression. They were in circulation. Didn't stop the Great Deflation.
     
    The gold standard doesn't protect against every deflationary pressure known to man. Obviously, if the sum total of goods triples overnight, the gold value of each of those goods will decline.
     
     
    QUOTE
    -----------------------------------------
    Moon:
     
    Gaius, here's some related reading on the Depression from a gold standard perspective, if you are curious:
     
    http://www.mises.org/rothbard/agd/contents.asp
     
    There's a link to a full PDF text beneath the title.
    -----------------------------------------
  6. Gaius Octavius
    It was my pleasure to have met His Greekness, Don Giovanni (aka Pantagathus) :notworthy: , about a week ago. He and his Domina trod up from one of the the outlying provinces to America. I picked him up with the Imperial Chariot somewhere in an exurb of NYC. We somehow knew each other immediately. At first, I must tell you that he is the handsome ideal of a Southern Gentleman. We yakked about many things, (strangling Ramses; putting a hex on Pertinax :notworthy: ) on our way to Brookfordshiresexingham for lunch at Fairway. He never once 'showed me up' on my lack of knowledge of things Roman.
     
    I made the mistake of taking a side trip over the Brooklyn Bridge (which I tried to sell to him) to lower Manhattan to show him what was left of the World Trade Center and a bit of Wall St. Sat in traffic for quite a while, as Broadway funneled down to one lane and we could not get down Wall Street for the destruction taking place. So the NYSE, the Sub-Treasury Building and the shrapnel marks on the Morgan Guaranty Trust Co. wall were off the menu. Got to the WTC area. All we could see was a fence. Off to Brooketc. Showed him the site where I spent my first day in jail when I was about 7 or 8 years old. Finally hit Fairway.
     
    Picked up some fruit, soda, a baguette and semolina bread, olives and sweet & sour red peppers and - Ta Da - some pecorino, Scottish Mull, Prestige de Boulogne and Blue Gouda cheeses. All to die for!!! Death by Cheese! (Eat your liver out Pertinax! :notworthy: ) Had to wash it down with Pepsi (no booze allowed). We nibbled for a long time on the enclosed patio facing the harbor. One can see from north of the Statue of Liberty south to Staten Island as one chomps away. Although the weather started out miserable, by now the old gods were shining on us.
     
    His Greekness :notworthy: caught site of two dusky swans paddling their little innocent hearts out in the harbour a few feet from us. It was all I could do to stop P from making a meal of them. Amongst the rubble there were Civil War era buildings all over the place. A couple of trolley cars graced the patio. We then bopped along some cobble stone streets (in worse shape than the Via Appia Antiga) to a mole with a view of Lower Manhattan and Gouvenour's Island - site of the old First Army and later Coast Guard Headquarters. Think that he has pics of all. Time to head off for dinner.
     
    Dropped off the remnants of lunch along with some Dogfish Head Ale (which he recommended - delish) and some Trappistee Ale (which he kindly got for me - haven't tried it yet) at the wigwam and picked up my Consort. His Lady was otherwise enterprised with some of her pals. Off to Coney Island and Gargulio's Restaurant. The maitre d' kissed my hand in greeting. This astounded P. Went into the church first and had a few pops. Bride had beer; he vino; me dirty extra dry vodka martinis on the rocks. Noted that he wasn't drinking vino. Told him that I would pour it into his pocket if he didn't commence. Never occurred to me that it might have tasted like battery acid! Oh, well! P entertained and charmed my Bride throughout the evening.
     
    Off to table. They split a bottle of vino. And all had things to eat. (Hope it all was at least passable.) To the of all, I poured a bit of their wine into my now languishing martini and ate my calamari with my fingers. Of a sudden a fusillade of shots was heard from outside. P hit the deck like a dive bomber going at Yamato. Not a big deal. Happens all the time in Brooketc. Just a few of the lads probably settling a Cicero-Caesar thing. Had sfogliatelle for desert - saved one for his Lady.
     
    At this place, when it comes time to settle up, you get a chance to leave scot free - if you pick the right number on a tile that falls out of a container. Told P to pick the number. P's luck was out to lunch. Off to pick up P's Lady in Manhattan.
     
    She is the epitome of a Southern Belle. A soft drawl that sends electricity down to ones heels and up to the ears. I paid no attention whatsoever to P during the drive back to exurbia for listening to Her and my Bride babbling. As I am irresistible, She slipped an arm around me as we parted and as I tried to teach her how to say 'sfogliatelle'. :wub: Sounds better Her way.
     

  7. Gaius Octavius
    It pleases me to be the presenter of pleasant tidings pertaining to the present perigrinations of the pertinacious and puissant Lord Pertinax of Putney :notworthy: . His Grace, :notworthy: in his perpetual pursuit of pastoral provender, is perambulating through the pastures of the provinces of the Picts; picking parsley, purslane, pansies and peppermint, and imbibing potent porter. These powerful precious pearls of paradise will provide his porridge with potent palatable provisions. Paroxysms of pleasure will permeate his person :notworthy: and perpetuate his pleasure at all prandial proceedings.
     
    His :notworthy: peculiar pastime proceeds from a penchant for perpetuating the practice of polyphristic psyonics.
     
    This ponderous, peripatetic periphrasis should not be perplexing to the polloi.
     

  8. Gaius Octavius

    Sale!

    By Gaius Octavius,

    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!
  9. Gaius Octavius

    Bumbler!

    By Gaius Octavius,

    I didn't know that I was supposed to 'PUBLISH' my blog! So it's in a fouled up order. Maybe you can make something of it. Cretan!, Idiot!, that I am! And possibly find it in your hearts to forgive me - some day.
     
    My sainted mother used to tell me: "You'll learn - some day."
  10. Gaius Octavius

    Taxes!

    By Gaius Octavius,

    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.
  12. Gaius Octavius

    Grumbles

    By Gaius Octavius,

    Fellow Sufferers:
     
    Seems that the Canadian Moslems want to assimilate, i.e., on their terms. They will determine what 'sin' is. My sometimes faulty logic tells me that means Canadians will have to do the assimilating. I'll pass and turn in my honorary Prince Edward Island citizenship. Then, there is a group of these ruffians who want to hack off the premier's head. I'm sure that that is a go for some Canadians.
     
    For a prize, let's see who can use the word 'that' in a row, (without any intervening words), the most times and still make sense.
     
    The mail brought in some very good news. My Brides Health Maintainence Org. just upped
    the monthly rate by $100. That makes it $7,344/annum. Considering that a stay in a hospital costs two grand a day, that's a bargain! IF one uses it, otherwise it goes into the deep pockets of top management.
    I often wonder why the neopath trash talkers prefer to pay their taxes to an HMO with an average 18% overhead per premium dollar vs Medicare's less than 2%. Iupiter forbid that one has to go to a hospital or doctor when one is traveling out of their area of coverage. A nurse (!) located in Tanu Tuva will have to OK it, IF your shade doesn't cross the River Styx first. The CENSORED .
     
    Now the beer has run out! I thank Minerva for paper plates.
     
    I think that I have been banned from the Racist topic of Ramses! Banned, I said! Where is Mr. Roberts? :2guns:
     
    And the Yankees lost - again
     
    Dear Lord,
    Gaius
    SPQR
  13. Gaius Octavius

    Ode on UNRV.

    By Gaius Octavius,

    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.
     
     

  14. Gaius Octavius
    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.
  15. Gaius Octavius
    Komrades:
     
    This may be my last blog due to a certain post of mine. So....
    ----------------------------------------------------------
     
    And now for some cultural reportage.
     
    To start with, it is El Cinco de Mayo once again.
     
    You've all heard the libelous term 'Italian Football Wedding', but you probably never had the pleasure of having attended one, since the most of you are barbarians. Herein, I shall describe one to you. But, for contrast, I shall open things with an inter-racial and inter-religious affair. My cousin's kid, an Eyetalian Roman Catholic, wedded himself off to a Jewish lass. Unfortunately, I was invited to the doings. Had to give the kids a present! The festivities took place at some ritzy North Shore Lon Giland yacht club. The opening goodies were Jewish, Chinese (natch!) and Italian. The Jewish goodies were mostly glommed before Consort and I got there, so we had to settle for the other slops. I know that you won't believe that Jewish goodies are top of the line, because of the way their regular cooking stinks (literally) to the high heavens. Probably to get God's attention. Anyway, both races mingled amicably. No brawls at all. When it came to the knot tying bit, a rabbi and a priest's time was wasted. I thought to myself, why not have a mullah and a pastor, really cement things? I also indicated to any who would listen, that since I am a defrocked priest, I would do the work, and at a small discount, since blood was involved. No one paid any attention. Somehow, I wound up behind everyone. Bride muscled her way up front. Since I couldn't hear or see what was going on, I summoned a steward and required him to fill a few beakers of Scotch and to deposit them on a balcony table. There I repaired, alone and peaceful, to watch the yachts bobble and the gulls enjoy themselves. Gulls and I do not see eye to eye on much. I hate the flying garbage cans with a passion beyond passion. Their object in life is to strafe the Imperial Chariot. There I sat, peacefully and alone, enjoying the libations and puffing away at cancer sticks. Unknowingly, (Like bloody hell!), I flipped the puff butts into the air. The gulls would swoop down and knock them back. God!, it was a pleasure to see them perform insane acrobatics whilst screeching their gizzards out. Yup! They got even with me. Never missed the target of their desires. Had a speckled burgundy chariot. Dinner was great. Anything one wanted - even pork.
     
    Now, off to the object of this Journal. The broom's party would hit the church and assemble at the altar reeking of booze, and holding their heads, as a result of the recently terminated bachelor party. Very dirty jokes were swapped when the boys could coordinate the operations of brain and tounge. The priest, who had just adjourned the poker game at Dinty Moore's Back Room, put in a lordly appearance. The opposing Families sat across the nave from each other, taking every opportunity to glare at each other. Did I mention that this was an inter-racial marriage - Calabrese versus Barese? Iron heads against kerosene people? Don't get it? Forget it! After some extended while, the brides party shows up and marches up the nave. Oh! How beautiful! Pigs! She deserves much better. The witch can't cook. How handsome. Schmuck. (Yes, schmuck is an Eyetalian word.) Why doesn't he/she marry one of his/her own? The worst of ours, is better than the best of theirs. Even a Sicilian would be better. The priest does his thing, and the guests of honor agree to all the lies. All march down the nave to the feigned approbation of the enemies. When the happy couple get outside the church, they are pelted with rice. (I always thought that that stuff was grace.) After a short hiatus, all repair to the church hall, which is a combination basketball court/theatre. The tables are set up in an upside down 'U' fashion. Each has a bottle of Seagrams, a bottle of Teachers, and a few gallons of Gallo's Very Best. The beer is in kegs at the open end of the U. Here also repose several grosses of Italian hero sandwiches, clothed in butcher's paper, from Nickie's Gourmet Emporium. A band is stuck somewhere thereabouts. The bride and broom, along with their attendants, sit at the head table. The band strikes up a tarantella. The little boys commence doing cart wheels on the stage. The little girls start picking nits out of each other's hair. The opposing quarter backs start passing the heros. Gaspare, fried eggplant? Zi Pep, pepper and eggs? Don Cicci, meat balls? Fiatella, ham and provolone? Gina, mortadella? After a bit, the bride traipses about the tables picking up the cash (No checks, please.), in the folds of her wedding dress. Oh, none of your useless presents - we'll get our own. She dishes out candied almonds in a porcelain swan. Now, everyone goes about dancing and b. essing. Guguzio happens to espy his personal bookmaker, Irving, who has been somewhat tardy paying off. Ugly words turn into fisticuffs. Every one takes a hand in matters, settling old scores with anyone who comes into view. Even the ladies have a good hair pulling. Bras and corsets wind up on the basketball hoops. Priest retires to poker game. Irish cops are summoned. One winds up in a garbage barrel wrong side up with a zucchini sticking out of his nether part. Things don't go as planned for cops. They call for Italian back up. No Way! Cops retreat; back to fun and games. Things settle down and the canoli, sfoiliatelle, and Napoleons are passed around. Espresso with anisette. (Sorry, no eXpresso!) All good things must come to an end. So people pick themselves up as best they can, and start loading up on the remaining goodies and booze. There are some minor encore scuffles. Once safely tucked in bed, husband and wife exclaim that it was such a great affair, but.... Didn't Aunt Angelina look stupid in that outfit. The marriage won't last out the year.
  16. Gaius Octavius

    Grrrrrr!

    By Gaius Octavius,

    Fellow Travelers:
     
    If it weren't for Pentagathus, this blog would be locked and deader than a dumb bell. For the which, I humbly thank him publically. I hope he doesn't come to regret it. The gods bless those who speak Latin and know computerese. :angel:
    Pertinax chipped in also :notworthy:
    If any are as ignorant as I am of this stuff, as old as I am, and want to open a blog, pay no attention to the instructions. Do the opposite of what you think you are being asked to do. :bag:
     
    ENGLISH! ENGLISH! BROKEN NEAPOLITAN IF NECESSARY!
     
    Courage Komrades, courage,
    Gaius the Dumb
  17. Gaius Octavius

    Options.

    By Gaius Octavius,

    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???
     

  18. Gaius Octavius
    Komrades:
     
    The Imperial Roman Intelligence Service (IRIS) - get it?, has intercepted a letter from busche to president chinney. For your edification, it is reproduced here. Keep in mind that this is Top Secret and for your eyes only, else it is off to Poland with you.
     
     
    Deer mista prezaden?
    Look, yu *CENSORED*, iv been frontin 4 yu 4 5 yeers now and everythin has gone Right. nothin iz correk. i trid to *CENSORED* up soshul sekurity n faled. then i did *GRRR!* up medakar. now th old fokz are oilin up ther gresse gunz 2 git me. yu got me in2 2 warz in plasez that i nevr herd ov. yu sadeld me wit browny n chirpoff n thay *CENSORED* up katrina n nobody tole me notin. if i waz to tak a wauk in noo yok sombodee id jump a lite n leve tire tredz up my body. ur boy snojob puled a fast 1 on me wit this port *BRR!*. waytll thay find out about th chineez runnnin som portz. nobody telz me notin. now som *Uh Oh!* hedz r tryin to git sharia law 4 themselvz in ontario. then ther ar a passel of pulpit poundin preechers tryin to set up Cristian govment in sout karolina. some exodus *BRR!*. ther tryin to git fokz to com therr n kik out demokratz, liberlz n even republixz n neo conz who dont coton 2 them. Jus *CENSORED* grate. this *OH DEAR*! sadam runz hiz own trial. wanna bet thay cut im loosz. iv got thoz guyz in bowlivea n venizzwala so *OHHH!* off that thay wil probablee put a contrak out on me. wear th *COOO!* r thoz plases. wat th *BRR!* r stem celz. th partee is afta me bout theez wetbakxz n th border. thoz minitmen lik az plugg me az a wetbak. haf th partee iz on th take n r goin 2 alkatraz. th rest r bangin therr hedz on th florz n walz. wil u pleez git that guy deelay to take the merkury treetment. th ol man n ol ladee lik thet guy klinten betr than me. thay cut me out ov ther wil and put him in. nise. thoz *MY GOD!* at fox r turnin on me. u go off huntin n drinkinn n allmost put down a shister. he haz grate earz. then u dont tel enybody. wat wer u watin 4. did u wanna see if u snuffed him. hoo pade th bilz. thenn u git him to tak a div 4 u. nex time ur out shootin tak mkklellen n rover wit u. doo th job rite thiz time. wot th *OUCH!* wer u doin. praktisin to git osama. u shudna takin 5 defurmentz.
    im gittin tiered of thisz fony texaz axsent n waukin round lik a puppit n telin liz. now ur pakin me off to indeeya. wherr th *MY WORD!* iz that. wot kind ov *OH NO!* r thay. how manee dizeezez wil i git. do thay speek inglissh. o god it jest hit th wirez. thay hav a tape showin brownie tellin me all about katrina. u *GOOD GRIEF!*. Tak brownie huntin. git judg starr 2 be4 he gits me. wot else r u puttin on mi plate. dont i hav enuff u *LORDY, LORDY!*. giv bugs buny that shot gun nex tim ur out.
     
    hav a nise day
    georgee dubya
    _____________________________________________________________________________
    ADVERTISEMENT
    Today's Journal brought to you through the good offices of the Chinney Hunting, Lying, Fishing & Cursing School. We will educate you on how to whack your best friend on private propety. Lie about it and get away with it, so long as it's in Dixie. The proper curses to use when speaking at a liberal. Fish stories for every occasion. As a free gift, we will show you how to fix your election and get a government pension when you go to jail. Anyone is well qualified, so long as you are a whacko or a red neck. All this for the low low price of 10 grand in tuition. Fully laundered cash on the barrel head only. Call your local Radio Trash Talker or Fox for further details and limitations. Fully warranteed.
    _____________________________________________________________________________
     
    IRIS
    SPQR
  19. Gaius Octavius
    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.
  20. Gaius Octavius
    Greetings & Salutations:
     
    In re the new $5 bill - good for one gallon of petrol:
     
    Soon, it will be a Ten Spot! Follow me: It costs a little less than 10 bucks to get oil out of the ground. The 'Spot' market is ~ +$110/barrel. But, I lied saying that oil comes out of the ground - it is produced by the 'Spot' market. Get it so far? It is well known that such as Exxon have no $10 oil. (As a matter of fact, they have no oil at all!) No depletion allowances, (aka nanny government tax subsidy), for that which they did not produce, but found in the ground. Still with me? Ergo, one must conclude that the problem is in the 'Spot' market. Yes? Now, if the 'players' in the 'Spot' market had to take/make delivery of oil futures, the price would tumble to ?. Or just as good, raise the margin requirements to 100%!
     
    Still here? Good.
     
    Let us amble together unto the Sub Prime Fraud: In days of old, when community banks existed by the gaggles, a president would have a cup of joe in the local diner with the early wandering farmers and business men. Yea!, I say unto you, he might even take toast with a member of the Great Unwashed! When called upon to make loans or mortgages, the prez could read and understand financial statements! He never packaged his loans and palmed them off to others. Putting exceptionally little trust in sleazy schiesters or lying CPA's, he corroborated the info. He required a decent down payment for mortgages and collateral for most business loans.
     
    Now let us charge into the more recent past. Some while back, a couple of most intelligent and all knowing statistician/economists wrote up a paper in a Federal Reserve Bank (of somewhere) Review. They proved beyond any doubt whatsoever, with enough statistics and formulas to build a neutron bomb, that now that 'derivatives' had been discovered, the Circle of Risk had been closed! The No-Risk; No Profit Theory was now consigned to Hades! Humungus profits were now guaranteed. Since all the stops were pulled on regulation, and the regulators and bond raters were safely in the thrall and pockets of investment, merchant and commercial bankers, Collateralized Debt (of all sorts) Obligations could be conjured up by the most worthy investment bankers and their lackey liars (Sorry! Sorry!, I meant lawyers.). These little beauties were to be laid off on those seeking yield. Such honest men went about convincing real estate types of all greedy stripes (Yes!, even their own hungry frauds.), to convince anyone who asked for a mortgage, that he could afford one. Why that's why we have Adjustable Rate Mortgages. (In effect, borrow short; buy long.) Why LIBOR is your best friend. One day we will introduce you to HIBOR. And the masses were over joyed and completely shafted. Why some even announced that they would name their last born Libor. The prices for used toilet paper constructed shacks climbed upwards to Uranus. I am as rich as Croesus cried the polloi. Bring me credit cards!!!
     
    Now we all know that lawyers can only say 'yes' in nothing less than a thousand pages. Thus, the I.B's and L's concocted these CDO's. Neither they, nor the good folk they were to palm them off on, knew what these CDO's were/are. So the banks said unto themselves, we must take advantage of these instruments that we know nothing of. After all, why should we worry? It's really only depositor/creditor money we are playing with. But, it came to pass that something was amiss (or was/is it?). All sorts of 'banks' claim that they are losing bundles. We must go to Sovereign Funds and leeches to get us out of this Serbonian mess. Why should we worry about watering our stock said the gangs at the tops of the corporate ladders. It's not our money. We used back dated options for ours. We're 'in the money' by a long shot. Anyone know what any IBOR is? Never mind.
     
    Thence it came to ground that Bear, Siht was in a mound of poo. J.P. Morgan-Chase Malignancy in for the kill (I meant rescue.). Frankly, I am still not sure if JPM has aggregated Ursus Siht unto itself or not. Now enters the Bearded Liberarian, St. Bernanke, who, along with Mr. Greenspun knew all, but didn't call the gendarmes. Quoth St. B. to JPM: You may deposit any worthless or troubling CDO's at the RE-Discount Window. And any Primary Dealers may follow suit. Anyone know what a P.D. is? It ain't Laybach & Whachit, your friendly broker.
     
    At last the god-Consul enters - stage right! Hold up there St. Bernanke! Why the blazes didn't you allow Bear Siht to go to the Window in the first place? Might there be much more to this? Let us investigate. Compared to the trillions of CMO's outstanding, only a paltry amount have actually gone the way of all flesh. Aha!, said Gaius. Could it be that Lord Effingham is paying a visit? One may 'buy' a tax loss, e.g., the one that exists at B/S. Or one may be created by marking down ones un-marketable inventory. One may use 'models', 'guesses', or whatever comes to mind in the case of CDO's. Now, assume that some honest folk are telling mere fibs, OK? A write down that does not come to fruition, means that the Treasury is being pilfered out of current tax revenue. Who knows, there may be another King Georgie-poo in the future. Then again, the whole Congress can be bought off to make life easier - for guess who?
     
    Some very short while back, Gaius said to Claudia, in one of his tender moments: Why don't the CENSORED children simply return the sub-prime mortgages to their teaser rates? Like the squirrel, She shrugged. Guess what? That is exactly what the Brits are now doing for a two year period!
     
    Did I forget to mention that Bulls and Bears make markets; pigs make a mess!
     
    ____________________________________________
     
    Gaius would like to find something out. If he mis-spells a word here, a little red line appears under it. Right? No suggestions appear for repair of the blunder. Now, if Gaius knew how to spell the Shame on you G.O.! word in the first instance, he would not have erred! Your turn Moon - in easy language for my ancient wits.
     
    Done This Twenty-Fifth Day of April,
    In the Year of Grace,
    The Two Thousand and Eighth,
    At Dusthaven
    C. Octavius, Cos.
  21. Gaius Octavius

    Alert!

    By Gaius Octavius,

    Dear Friends:
     
    Little Sen. ricky santorum, that mendacious murine mountebank, has announced that WMD's have been found in Eyewreck. A miracle is delivered unto us (once again)!
     
    ann couter, that sallow, scoriaceous, sulphovinic, specious specimen, feels that if Rep.Murtha was fragged now, he will have earned one of his two Purple Hearts. I'd give her one for that condyloid face.
     
    hiraldo the hirsute, has vomited that he has seen more 'action' than John Kerry did! Yeah! He got punched around on one of his TV shows. It was a Liberal before fox gave It a salary. Went packing in Afganistan, just in case osama strolled by. Now, It would have shown osama how to run.
     
    Moonlapse scared the carp out of me! Then he relented! :wub:
     
    A mocking bird is serenading us. Now, that's a pleasure.
     
    Domina Claudia put together a melange of chicken, veggies and rice with the balance of Pantagathus' chimineychurra. Pretty d_mn_d tasty.
     
    The pre-hominoid Dept. of Environmental Protection beings eschewed playing with the water valves today. Didn't have to use alcohol to cleanse the countenance.
     
    flush rimflour, the pill popping, pot smoking, draft dodging, serial polygynist, will turn himself in to the magistrates for drug posession. Obfuscation and prevarication are his forte.
     
    Share in my joy,
    Major Black Adder
  22. Gaius Octavius

    2008!

    By Gaius Octavius,

    For the New Year, GO RESOLVES to:
     
    Stop bugging the Lost Soul, My Lady Sophia, Doll, My Lords Pantagathus & Pertinax, The G-Man, MPC, and of course, the most highly esteemed and honourable "Fair is fair, young man,....".
     
    Start bugging Domina Nomina, Kosmo, Viggen, The Klingon, GPM, JR, Faustus, and Moonlapse.
     
    Stop imbibing of wine, whisky, and beer - while posting to UNRV.
     
    Stop posting in enigmas so as not to confuse great minds.
     
    Not to use talking smilies!
     
    Stop lying.
     
     
     
    For 2008, GO PREDICTS:
     
    Maladict will be elected pope - of the Pastafarians.
     
    Basil Fawlty and Hyacinth Bouquet will take over the management of The Ritz.
     
    Now that Tony Blair has made the Leap, Prince Charles will convert to Catholicism, thus driving the Royal Family, and Parliament into apoplexy, to say nothing about giving the now plurality Catholiics untolled great belly guffaws!
    Guy Fawkes will be declared a Saint!
     
    My Lord Pantagathus will be found skulking around some Grecian village - plotzed.
     
    God will stop having chin wags with georgius Secundus, Osama, and the Telereverendos.
     
    My Lords Pertinax & Pantagathus will open 'Smoke & Beer Cafes' in San Francisco and Amsterdam.
     
    "Fair is fair, young man,...." will be deported to Russia and/or shot for a trophy.
     
    PP will write up the history of Pope Gaius (really!).
     
    N.N. will make a 1:1 model of the Colosseum.
     
    Domina Nomina will be thrown off of the dole!
     
    Cicero, Brutus, and Cato will be declared saints - in the Cult of the Flying Pizza.
     
    Faustus & Ursus will have their pants sued off for copyright infringement!
     
    Caldrail will win a Certified Pre-Owned 50 year old jalopy.
     
    GO will suffer eternal 'Damnatio' - smashed!
     
     
    HAPPY NEW YEAR ALL Y'ALL!
     
     
     

  23. Gaius Octavius

    School.

    By Gaius Octavius,

    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.
  24. Gaius Octavius

    Problems!

    By Gaius Octavius,

    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

  25. Gaius Octavius

    Y'allbonics.

    By Gaius Octavius,

    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."
×
×
  • Create New...