Some Random Twisted Ruminations

      A gift certificate, as Dilmom once observed, is about taking perfectly good and tenderable cash and giving it to someone in a much more restrictive form.   See also tuition.

      It's generally believed that post-structuralism has something to offer the literary critical community, but, really, how can you be Saussure?

      Pity Michelangelo's David: he had his first erection 500 years ago, and it wasn't the one he wanted.

      Cunnilingus rethought: The only thing that remained in Pandora's, er, "box" was that which every man desires, Hope, even though Bacon says Hope is a good breakfast but a bad supper. This should come as no surprise from a man named Bacon. But we all know that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Right? Right. So there. And it's so much better than Denny's. Oh, and boys, I'm warned to remind you not to forget the eggs.... (Mind you, if a protein shake is what else you'd prefer, so be it....)

      A friend once said I had low self-esteem. I told her to come down here and say that.

      T.S. Eliot is an anagram for "toilets." Casts The Waste Land in a new light, doesn't it?

      If we can have Girls Gone Wild, how long is it until we have Girls Gone Feral?    (Leave it alone....)

      Proof that God exists: Eudora Welty didn't have a child with Peter Boyle. (Think about it.)

      A young boy is a lad, and a young girl is a lass.   Now tell me how we got the word "lady."

      Shouldn't The Gap really be a wholesale operation? (Word to whit: if you buy your clothes from a place with that name, you get what you deserve, Lenny Crevice ads et al.)

      “When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things.” (I Cor. 13:11) You see, it's okay to eat kids. The ghosts of Jonathan Swift and Vladimir Nabokov are issuing "I told ya so"s from beyond the pale.

      Would you worry if an Islamic person wanted a slice of pie à la mode?

      What did Whitman used to do on Whitsun?

      Shouldn't a tampon really be called a tamp-in or a tamp-up? The tamp is questionable, but the on is just plain wrong. (And I'm sure the damn things don't have anything to do with tams. Or pons, whatever they might be.) Also, try actually fucking off. This blog is relatively sure that something going off won't be fucking anything for long.

Argh. Perhaps more later. In the interim: dare to consider the various implications of the term "gag reflex." Kinda puts your girlfriend (or whomever) in the same boat with kidnappers and Groucho Marx, doesn't it? What a curious gaggle, n'est-ce pas? Now repeat after me, ten times fast: "Felicia's felicitous fellatical facility fascinated the famously flaccid faculty fellows." Again...