Happy Hollow Wiener

Best of luck to all of you in the candy-acquisition process; feel free to shamelessly use your offspring to attain your goals.

FU Weekly - Paperless Voting Machines

FU Reverses Stance on "Science"

In the past, Churck elders have maintained an understandable skepticism about "science" and its accoutrements. However, it appears that science is finally getting somewhere.

As one of the early volunteers to receive a monkey head, I am now seeking FU approval for this procedure. Obviously I don't want to risk my eligibility for heaven, so I need a "heads up" on this before I go through with it.

10-17 Hundred Club

The FU is launching an inspiring new program, the 10-17 hundred club. This inspiring project will assist parishioners in their desire to donate all of their worldly wealth to the True Churck in a cost-effective manner. While the FU appeal for 501(c)(3) status is ongoing, you probably should not consider your donations to be tax-deductible. However, rest assured that 85 cents out of every dollar goes directly into the pockets of the people who should get the money.

Blogger Needs Filter

One of the benefits of writing in tradional medium is that you have the opportunity to reflect. A message transmitted to another will be vetted only after it has been painstakingly reduced to an image of ink on paper. Plus, your secretary has the opportunity to query, "Do you really think it is wise to threaten the Mayor in such a manner?"

All of these benefits are lost in the virtual world. Any idea, no matter how bizarre, is instantly communicated to everyone. If I push off as hard as I can, I can roll my chair out of my office and into the hallway. The internet should be shut down (or licensed).

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UPDATE
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Now I see that only 1% of internet sites are pornographic. Disgusting!

FU Weekly - Ole-ole-o--------Oleee-o

WIP - RIP

As you know, I have been spending a lot of time thinking about the impending Rupture. But how does one prepare for the end of time/space? I’ve been studying up on quotations from all of the major religions in preparation for “the final exam.” I’ve also begun memorizing the details of some of my favorite breasts in case I need to conjure up the appropriate image in the bodiless afterlife.

Then it occurred to me: If everyone is destroyed in the Rupture, who in the Hell is going to write my obituary?!? So, I set about working on it. Obviously, it is a work-in-progress, but I've still got some time.

A celebration of the life of P. Daugel Boone, IV will be held the day after the Rupture at the sunken gardens. Mr. Boone died as a result of the end of the universe, and he is survived by nobody. There will be an open bar from 2pm until closing with no drink limits. Appetizers will include sloppy bruschetta, deviled eggs, sloppy slop con Kay’s soul, sloppy slop con carnis, sloppy slop con lechers, meat balls, goat balls, cheese balls, cheese dip, cheese logs, cheese nuggets, cheese puffs, cheesy bacon bites, cheesy potato poppers, cheesy jalapeno poppers, cheese curds, and gelatin.

Mr. Boone was born an infant suited to this world, and, in many ways, he remained that way. He was educated both in school and out and later learned lots of things otherwise. He spent numerous years in the study of difficult concepts, many of which previously were unstudied.

Mr. Boone’s first brush with fame arose from his ground-breaking work performing under the stage name “Fluffy” with the nouveaux-art-folk-noise-rock band, the Clown Squad. Boone’s musical talents were not restricted to his unique ability to forget where he was or what he was doing. “Fluffy” did not subscribe to rudimentary concepts of musical theory or practice. His special style could challenge even the most accomplished players to scratch their heads and wonder, “Does he have any idea how to play any instrument?”

Boone later wrote many award-winning books including the now famous, award-winning "Gynecological Analysis of the Enron Collapse," the seminal "How to Give Yourself Awards for Your Writing," and the award-winning career guide, "What Color is Your Pair of Shoes - Career Advice for a New Millenium From an Award-Winning Award Winner."

Of course, Boone was best known as one of the founding members and chief spokesman of the revolutionary religious institution which sucessfully synthesized all former religions and rendered them unneccessary - the First Unichurck. He also was the Chosen One. Memorial donations may be made to: First Unichurck c/o oneear.blogspot.com

Thursdays with Cocoa -- Lightning Strikes

I, of course, was struck by lightning once (more of a glancing blow really). Since then, I have discovered that I now have the ability to predict what song will play on the radio next. It doesn’t happen all the time – the weather needs to be just right – but a song (even songs I haven’t heard in years) will come into my head and then sure enough it will play on the radio within five minutes. I’m not sure if it is me communicating with the radio or the radio communicating with me. I treat it like a superpower, but I have yet to turn it into any sort of gain.

Has anyone else had a similar experience?

Apocalypse Soon?

A Congressman from California,apparently the vanguard of the Clown revolutionaries, has recognized that the Rupture is upon us. Mr. Doolittle, representative of the 4th district, brought his clear grasp of international affairs to a recent debate:

(The war in Iraq) he said, "leads to what the Bible ultimately says: Armageddon will take place in the Middle East. The Bible mentions the Euphrates River in Iraq as the place of prelude to the final battle of Armageddon that will bring about the world's end. "

Finally, some of the leadership of this nation has engaged in the careful analysis necessary to fully and completely adopt an apocalyptic vision of the future of the world. Only by carefully examining the webpages of the Bible (the approved version, not the rough draft) in the King's English (and King James was not gay, by the way. He just stopped at that club one time on a whim) can one find the proper strategy to employ in Iraq. Alternatively, one could simply purchase the TRIPE voice over internet to God phone system from Rusty Enterprises in order to get a direct line.

Either way, perhaps if we all pull together, we can bring about the end of the world before the end of the next election cycle.

FU Weekly - Tantric Correction

Or this?

Did any of those kids look like this?

Teach Your Children, Well?

For once, I was at a complete loss for words. Today I had the pleasure of playing chaperone on a pumpkin patch field trip. Keeping track of 45 3-4 year olds is not so much like herding cats as it is like herding mice. They are small, quick and virtually indistinguishable, and they are able penetrate any opening through which they can fit their heads. They also refuse to keep their hats and mittens on in complete disregard of the cold or of the threats of severe corporal punishment.

But this was not the troubling part. While the children were assembling at the preschool pre-trip, the teacher gathered them together to sing some of their favorite songs. The first was an innocuous greeting song about "welcome everybody" or some such shit. Then, the wheels came off.

I should have told you that the kids and teacher were singing along to a CD. This means that someone recorded, published and distributed this collection of auditory fecal matter.

Song #2 filled me with shock and awe. Those of you who have not heard this particular number may have difficulty believing the following retelling, but I swear on a stack of award-winning "What Color is My Pair of Shoes - Career Advice for a New Millenium By an Award Winning Award Winner" books that this is true.

McDonalds, McDonalds, Kentucky Fried Chicken and Pizza Hut.
McDonalds, McDonalds, Kentucky Fried Chicken and Pizza Hut.
McDonalds, McDonalds, Kentucky Fried Chicken and Pizza Hut.
McDonalds, McDonalds, Kentucky Fried Chicken and Pizza Hut.

Etc. There were verses about Wendys, Arbys, Burger King, Dairy Queen and always the above refrain. I shit you negative.

Not only that, there were gestures. Both arms arched to form the golden arches, and so forth. AND, the kids all knew the song and the gestures.

I must admit that I sat dumbfounded and silent during the entire excrutiating event. While we were shuttling toward the bus, I asked the teacher, "Uh, what is the deal with that McDonalds song."

She shrugged sheepishly and said, "I know its not the best kind of food, but the kids really like it."

Again, I was speechless. Sure the kids need constant advertising bombardment in order for us to spend our way out of this post-911 slump. But must they become part of the advertisement? Am I missing something or is this what it sounds and appears to be?

While I pondered, weak and weary, her words came back to haunt me: "its not the best kind of food, but the kids really like it."

On Weeee Updated - Congratulations

Our friend Alceste has just completed his PhD! Sincere congratulations to you, sir. You are now, without a doubt, the most highly educated drummer in the Clown Squad.

You are hereby officially forgiven for and absolved of all sins to date including but not limited to your troubling absence from Churck services. However, now that you have disposed of your dissertation, we expect you to become more regular.
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My Toast to You

We are gathered here today to honor a real man – but not just any man. This man is a father, a son, a brother, and an uncle, and a brother-in-law, and a taxpayer. And he is a friend. He is all that a man can, nay should, no MUST be. He is a man’s man.

I will never forget the first time that I met {insert name} . I was immediately struck by his sincerity, his genuineness, his authenticity, and his realness. Over time, I came to know {insert name} not just as a real man, but also as a (make quotation marks in air) “real” man. Yes, he is both real and (make quotation marks in air) “real.”

And so, on this special occasion, we raise our glasses, both figuratively and metaphorically, and we give a toast, “This one’s for you {insert name}, for being one of the really real men.

(Cue: For He's a Jolly Good Fellow - to the tune of The Bear Went Over the Mountain)

Kim Getting On Nerves Of FU

North Korea is really starting to p!ss me off. First they launched a rocket more than 30 feet offshore. Now, they are threatening to look up nucular weapons on wikipedia!

If they don't knock it off, the US is going to .... wait, I think we're busy.

On Slavery

I am the descendant of slaves. So are you. Of course, as a relatively young nation, the US only had 300-400 years of slavery.

In the United States, the second largest slave state was NY. For this reason, there was a civil war. That and secession.

As enlightened folks, we now despise slavery. Except for children. They can't drink or vote, but they can fight in wars and be tried as adults whenever they shoot people at school.

Exercism

Dead Dog May Still Be Barking

King of the Hill

A US House of Representatives ethics subcommittee has begun an intense examination of "fat jokes" about Speaker Dennis Hastert.

(photo courtesy of http://www.lewrockwell.com/floyd/floyd9.html)

Recent cannibalistic behavior by members of the Republican Party has led to widespread speculation that Denny Hastert may have actually eaten murdered intern Chandra Levy. It is noted that Hastert has inexplicably gained 128 pounds and that this is the precise weight of Levy, cleaned and dressed.

It is also observed that Hastert recently acquired his own zip code, bathed at Sea World, was pushed back into the ocean at the beach, and began beeping when backing up.

The ethics panel hopes to learn exactly what Hastert ate and when he ate it. If it turns out that he does, in fact, engage in the ritualistic consumption of human flesh, he may be asked to resign from his position of leadership.

Clowns in High Places

Dateline - Alameda, CA. AP reports that a Clown is running for the city's highest public office.

Usually, I don't support anything that happens West of the incontinental divide. But, in this case, I urge the Churck's full endorsement of the candidacy of whatever his name is, you know, the clown.

Speaking of Berkeley, I see that the Nobel Prize in Physics was awarded to the guys that did the Cobe project and thereby provided strong evidence of the "Big Bang." They looked for and found cosmic microwave radiation variations, so that pretty much ends that discussion. Now, we just have to figure out how Rusty caused the Big Bang.

Accolades Accumulate

Rusty Never Sleeps - Official Site of the First Unichurck is now, officially, "Truly the greatest blog in America." Thank you, Crash Test Comic, for confirming our supremacy and for thereby validating our outreach in the fellowship of Rusty.

I haven't witnessed this kind of support since my award-winning first book, How to Give Yourself Awards for Your Writing, received its unprecedented number of awards.

However, I am concerned with the caveat "greatest blog in America." Is there some foreign blog of which I am not aware?

RE: Information

I received the following email:

Any vacuum cleaner can non-chalantly make love to a chain saw around an eggplant, but it takes a real mastadon to teach a temporal roller coaster. A bowling ball inside the tape recorder hesitates, and a smelly apartment building feels nagging remorse; however, the feverishly cosmopolitan avocado pit brainwashes the fashionable bowling ball. A blithe spirit over the blithe spirit is hairy.

Furthermore, the plaintiff living with a demon earns frequent flier miles, and a tripod of the defendant inexorably brainwashes the bowling ball over an oil filter. If the senator gives a pink slip to a Eurasian fundraiser, then a rattlesnake from a carpet tack hesitates. An unstable nation

Most people believe that a grain of sand defined by the power drill laughs and drinks all night with a nearest freight train, but they need to remember how accurately another spartan reactor procrastinates. If a parking lot carelessly requires assistance from the feline bottle of beer, then a defendant around a minivan daydreams. A jersey cow about a corporation is resplendent. Any parking lot can secretly admire a photon inside the fundraiser, but it takes a real class action suit to derive perverse satisfaction from the annoying paper napkin. When a microscope leaves, a power drill rejoices. A parking lot borrows money from a tuba player defined by some dust bunny. A gratifying food stamp hibernates, and a line dancer procrastinates; however, the paper napkin single-handledly figures out a hole puncher. A bowling ball beyond a cough syrup figures out the globule. Indeed, the steam engine has a change of heart about a mating ritual.

For example, an accidentally flatulent class action suit indicates that a mating ritual inexorably buys an expensive gift for a pathetic senator. A turkey prays, and an infected line dancer sweeps the floor; however, the mortician writes a love letter to some seldom purple tabloid. When a skyscraper inside a skyscraper trembles, a greasy plaintiff earns frequent flier miles. Now and then, a ball bearing secretly befriends a knowingly alleged insurance agent. The wheelbarrow living with a fairy, a paper napkin related to the cowboy, and another smelly freight train are what made America great! Some tuba player

This is some of the finest writing that it has been my pleasure to read in quite some time. Notwithstanding the quality of the prose, can someone please explain how money is made by sending me this informative correspondence?

A Mass Fetish FU Embrace

If there is one thing to which not enough attention is paid, it is mass fetish. Sometimes inaccurately referred to as "popular culture," mass fetish is the shared concern of the enlightened many - the creme de les eaux d'égout.

The First Unichurck would like to take this opportunity to shine a light on the caliginosity of popular mass media. Some people like feet. Some people like to see photographs of famous people who are mostly famous for being famous, and they like to see them doing routine things. Just image if Lindsey Lohan ever took a sh!t! With bare feet! Now you get the picture.

That is what we should be celebrating - bare-footed sh!tting famous people (perhaps dressed like a nurse or a cowgirl). This separation between Churck and state has got to go! Let the mass-whole speak, let the mass-whole watch, and let the mass-whole rule!

Mission FINALLY Accomplished--thanks to Sesame Street

In a much anticipated move, Sesame Street's Bert, of the famed duo "Ernie and Bert", revealed the accomplishment of an ongoing covert mission to assassinate Osama Bin Laden. Or is it 'Usama'? Bert, who has always been considered the more responsible, stern, serious-minded and perhaps downright mean of the two--the SuperEgo to Ernie's Id, if you will--held a press conference yesterday in Paris, France where he revealed the nature, duration and an overview of this mission accomplished.

When it became clear that the Administration wanted to capture and/or
assassinate Mr. Bin Laden, the Executive Producers of Sesame Street were
unable to ignore the similarities between the current Head of administration and
a certain orange-faced, silly laughing colleague of mine. They approached
me to play on my experiences with Ernie and take control of the situation.
Now, unlike on Sesame Street, where Ernie's shenanigans ultimately bring him out
on top at the end of the scenario and my being humiliated for being such a
tight-ass as a representation of the inherent value of youthful, innocent and
playful attitudes triumphing over the oppressive, regulated, adult world
a-la-the counter-culture movement of the Sixties, in this case, my cold-blooded
strict tendencies managed to win out as I jabbed my syringe full of Typhoid
innoculum into Mr. Bin Laden's right lung. Eat that, Ernie. Who's
the man now?

When asked how the Sesame Street team were able to locate Bin Laden and then further infiltrate his inner security circle, the pointed-headed assassin responded,

It was diabolically simple. It has been known for some time that
Mr. Bin Laden is a big fan of my colleague, Grover. We simply extended an
offer to meet, have dinner and view previously unreleased episodes of "Super
Grover saves Islamabad". What Mr. Bin Laden didn't realize, obviously, is
that some of the cast of Sesame Street such as myself and colleague Oscar the
Grouch, actually have quite unpleasant dispositions. Hey--I'm no Elmo, if
you know what I mean. That was the Bin Laden team's critical error.
The irony of it all was my ability, even after the Typhoid had been injected, to
get one of Bin Laden's henchmen to snap this picture of me in action.
Poetic is the only word that comes to mind. Thank you for your
attention.

Cocoa Reappears

From Sunday to Thursday I was in Miami acting as the "official drunk" at the annual computer conference that my job sends me to.

As I catch up on the Unichurk postings, I am struck by the uncanny relevance these postings have to the way the last four days played out.

First, there is OneEar's posting about how drinking makes you wealthier because it allows you to acquire more contacts and build social capital. My actions proved that nothing could be truer. The first morning, as I stumbled in to the first conference session, possibly in the clothes I slept in, and bleeding from wounds of unknown origin, I knew just what the other attendees were thinking. "Here comes a guy with whom I really want to do business!" ……and "What is it that I can do to make this guy wealthier?"

Then, there is Miss Litzi's theory that one advantage to being alone is that "...you can behave outrageously without fear of condemnation from your peers." My answer to this is that if you are in a large group and your peers are uttering condemnations (as in "Mr. Cocoa, please come down from there you are frightening the other attendees") but the condemnations are unable to be comprehended by the condemned, then do those condemnations really exist?

Finally there is the pleasant reappearance of Snotty, not only on these pages but in my life as well. Let me just say that the best two ways to impress an attractive 25-year-old female colleague during dinner are:
1) Regale her in an almost never-ending babbling stream of consciousness about how you still pine for the unrequited loves of your elementary school days, and
2) Just after dessert, place your white linen napkin over your hand and engage in an extended performance of puppetry not only for her delight but for all of the wait staff as well – Good ol' Snotty!

I'm not sure for how much longer I can get away with this.

Don't Make Me Come Up There

OneEar wonders aloud, "What the f^ck is going on up there?"

First, asstronauts out on a spacewalk dropped some bolts. Ok, perhaps that is excusable. We've all done that kind of thing. Working on the lawnmower and then, "Crap!," and the nut is lost forever in the long grass which is very high because the lawnmower doesn't work. I guess that could happen in space too.

Then, crew members on the space station had to don gas masks after smelling a "noxious gas." I suspect that crewman Williams, who first detected the odor, is probably to blame. I base my supposition on the "He who smelt it, dealt it" postulate.

Today, NASA reports that there is more space sh!t floating around the space shuttle Atlantis. There are some pieces of foil and two rings that are just floating there. Although it seems to happen every time, I am always a little bit worried when I end up with spare parts lying around after "fixing" my lawnmower. It usually seems to work just fine, but one has to wonder, "Is this thing going to burn up in the atmosphere?"

NASA, please consider this your last warning. If there are any more shenanigans, I am withdrawing my support for this whole damn thing.

Short People Not Necessarily Sub-Human!?

The latest evidence from Flores seems to indicate that the Abu Gogo, fossils of which were discovered in caves in 2004, were just short pygmys with correspondingly small brains and NOT hobbits who may have bred with goats and whose ancestors may have migrated to Poland, Ireland, or the United States. My apologies to Loud But Off Key for my earlier comments.

.

Meaning of a Friend

Heal Thyself

I Always Drink On Fridays

It has been all over the news! Drinking makes you wealthier!

You had to know I would pick up on this story.

Rain of Terror

Its A Snotty Life

The MLKing Day Bunny

Two Balloons in the Wind

The New Adventures of Snotty and Spoogy - War Jokes

War! Infitada! Declared on Churck

In a surprizing and as yet incomprehensible strategic move, fitness-celebrity John Basedow has declared that he is tired of repeating that he is, therefore, only interested in cosmetically significant fitness results.

Anyone can get in "good" cardiovascular shape and extend his functional
life-expectancy by 10 to 20 years, but hey, who's going to hang around for that
long to see results when you're trying to pick up barely-legal boys at
rest-stops? It's the pec-implants,
frosted-a-la-1970's-hairdo-that-my-mom-sported-with-much-greater-class-and-success,
purple wife-beaters and the triangle symbol that takes you places. And,
BTW, FITNESS MADE SIMPLE is declaring
"I-Dee-Claire-WAR-W-A-R" on the First Unichurck. I've had it with that
maimed sheep and all his ramblings. He's only got one ear, for Gosh's
sake. We're going to show him what a few thousand sit-ups per day
because I don't have a real job that would otherwise take up my waking
hours can do. I and my army of
purple prancing Peter Pans will look one more time in the mirror--just for a
sec--and then teach him some lessons in the fine art of socially crippling but
financially lucrative narcisism--he REALLY could use a lesson in saturation
advertising. We're on every station on cable!! Heeheeheeeheeee!
Thilly Theep. I will frost his curly locks before the week is out.
It will be the mother of all frostings. And maybe a Brazilian wax, while
we're at it.

Underminers Society Missing!

The Underminers Society of America, motto - "Under All Lies Dirt," are missing, and investigators are very worried. Following the success of their Friendship Hankie project, the Underminers apparently acquired a shovel. Exactly what they intended to do with the digging implement is the subject of intense speculation. The secretive burrowing group began a series of closed session meetings to which access was very guarded, and experts have only been able to hypothesize about what they might have been up to.

However, a spokesman for the First Unichurck, the faith-based establishment where the Underminers had been holding their meetings, announced that the Churck computer browser history showed some unusual activity for which Churck members are unable to account.


OneEar, in prepared remarks on behalf of the First Unichurck, stated: "I think the idiots drowned."

Cowardly Comment about the number Pi spurs premature concluding post from OneEar

Back off, sheepy! Just, back off!

And in the End, There Was Rusty

And so, this explains where Rusty came from, how his disciples found him, and how OneEar became "Number One."

Hopefully, this makes the whole thing clearer and will save your soul from the Rupture and will inspire you to do good works.

In the name of Rusty.

Ahem.

Code Rut-Ro Runs Into a Zoinks!

You've got your upside and then you've got your downside. There's the rub.

The First Unichruck is trying to re-originate the Western black rhino (Codename Rut-Ro). As noted previously, in order to originate this sub-species of rhino, somebody needs to get f^cked by an Eastern black rhino. The problem arises because all of the suggested recipients of a good rhino-f^cking are people whose characteristics one would not want to reproduce in the rhino population.

Case in point - Ronald Dumsfeld. Granted, he could use a good rhino-f^cking. He'd probably enjoy it. "Give it to me, you big, horny liberator," he'd probably say. But, do we really want a species of rhinos that are as short-sighted, unsympathetic and fanatical as Dumsfeld?

Others have suggested that Paris Hilton might accomodate a good rhino-f^cking. Probably true, but there are two problems: 1) you can't impregnate via the mouth and 2) the rhino offspring would be unbearable. I'd probably shoot one myself just to keep it off of the airwaves.

We must find someone who could accomodate a good rhino-f^cking but who would not harm the disposition of the rhino species. Who?

"Is Enough Really Enough?" -Draft 1A

Is Enough Really Enough?

The answer is yes. How do you know enough is enough? Because there is no distinction between enough and enough. In short, this paper is all about doubting distinctions. If you propose a distinction, I will doubt it.

Rogue cells of a loose confederation of experiences, known as El Qualia, have sworn an allegiance to destroy Willard Van Orman Quine’s concept of physicalism. These independent groups of cells are identified principally by what it is like to experience them rather than by any particular personal or geographic boundaries. El Qualia cells are known to disrupt the physical world by emerging in the mind and thereby forcing the acknowledgment of their existence.

But is there a distinction between these El Qualia cells and a bologna sandwich? The answer is, “no.” For is a bologna sandwich truly a bologna sandwich? Yes, there is no distinction. Well, then, if truth is, by definition, incoherent, then a bologna sandwich is truly an El Qualia cell.

Let’s come at it from a different angle. Suppose you have four people playing chess simultaneously against one another on 6 different chessboards. Two of the boards are synchronized so that all pieces move correspondingly, but in opposite directions. Now, suppose that the game is played in a rodeo arena where a bull and a wild bear are turned loose. Wouldn’t that be neat?

Now, suppose that the bear is riding the bull and that the bull is wearing rollerblades. Would you not wonder how they taught that bull to rollerblade? Would you not question how the bear learned to stay on the bull's back? Would anyone join the chess club?

So, I think we can see that the addition of a few variables turns an otherwise sedate intellectual game into a wild bloodbath of chaos. But does this render the experience anything other than chess? No, it remains chess, only it is 6 handed chess in a rodeo ring while running from a bear riding a bull on rollerblades.

Charging Rhino

Query: How do you stop a charging rhino?
Answer: Take away his credit card.

People Keep Asking Me Questions

SMC Announces Dividend
http://oneear.blogspot.com/2006/09/rue-looks-to-cash-in-on-sudden.html

In an effort to bolster sluggish stock sales in Send Me Cash.com, which are lagging far behind expectations, Chief Chief OneEar has announced that the company will pay investors a 15% dividend this year. For each dollar invested, the company will send back 15 cents. “Come on, guys,” says Ear, “Where else are you going to get a 15% return?”

Ear hopes that the dividend will excite lazy, good-for-nothing dot.com investors who, thus far, have shunned the fledgling company. “Does Microsoft offer a 15% dividend,” queried OneEar, “No!” “We’ve got triple digit growth, a double digit dividend, we’re young, we’re hip, we’re a dot.com…. come on guys…. .please?”

SMC’s announcement brought mixed results from Wall Street. “Who did what now?” said one leading analyst.

OneEar maintains his optimism. “Look, we’re not a Wall Street company, we’re a Main Street company. We’re not casual Friday, we’re casual everyday. We’re not top down, we’re bottoms up. You ask WHY they should send me their cash, I ask, HOW they should send me their cash.”

Ear seemed defensive when asked whether SMC actually does anything. “Does anybody really DO anything?” “Look,” continued OneEar, “You give me $1,000.00 and I will send you $150.00. Then, you only need to work for another $850.00 in order to give me another $1,000.00, at which time I’ll give you $150.00. Now, you have made $300.00, I’ve made $1,700.00 and together we have made $2,000.00 total out of your $1,850 investment. This is what is called “creating wealth.” Now, SendMeCash. What more can I say?”

RUE Looks to "Cash In" on Sudden Popularity

Mr. OneEar, High Priestest and Chosen One of the First Unichurck (a faith based initiative) and Chief Chief Chief of RUE, Ltd has announced an initial public offering of stock in the wholly owed subsidiary SendMeCash.com (SMC). Ear acknowledges that RUE’s IPO of stock in the rapidly growing SMC may come as a surprise to some analysts.

"Who did what now?" asked one leading Wall Street homeless man.

"RUE has enjoyed modest success as a private venture," says Ear, "much more modest than I had anticipated. "But the upside potential for this venture is enormous."

Despite the fact that nobody wanted to hear any more about this subject, Ear continued, "One year ago, nobody expected us to make a cent. RUE was not even on the radar screen of many analysts."

Ear begs comparison of the company's dismal past with its awesome prospects for growth. "We earned $2.16 this year as compared with $0.00 last year. If you do the math, that represents an infinite growth rate. Did Microsoft have infinite growth in the past year?" With numbers like these, Ear expects investors to flock to SMC. "I've already ordered my speedboat," says Ear, so I hope these angel investors hurry up.

According to Ear, SMC does not have any recognizeable business activity per se. "But look at the growth," says Ear. "Numbers do not lie. They just don't. Lie, that is. Numbers, I'm speaking about."

---------------------------------
The preceding represents a forward looking statement which consists of facts and opinions which may or may not be based within the realm of generally recognized reality (GRR). Any statement contained therein may be a delusional fiction made for purposes of defrauding investors and should therefore be taken lightly if at all. I mean, seriously!

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POO NEWS
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Alceste Ahead of Art

Award winning filmaker Martin Creed, having recently released his film involving 19 vignettes of people vomiting to camera, has indicated his work on the Shit Film.

the Shit Film. As the title suggests, this will involve footage of people defecating to camera. It will be shot on widescreen CinemaScope against the backdrop of an "infinity curve" - an apparently seamless background that gives the impression of there being no horizon line between the floor and the wall.

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Murderer Paints With Hair, M&Ms

Donny Johnson is a killer convicted of killing a friend to death over PCP laced cigarettes and then of stabbing a prison guard. Like most artists, his creative urge causes him to murder people. Thank you to the NY Times for featuring this misunderstood soul. If only he would paint with his own sh!t.

For Shame, Milwaukee, For Shame Wisconsin

Evidently, drinking at least two drinks per month puts Milwaukee at the head of the pack Nationwide for 'drunkest city in the country'. Victory by default is never pretty; what kind of losers were competing in this contest, anyway? Where the Hell was Madison during all of this? Or Verona for that matter? I think the Churck should demand some answers, or at least further research.

Doo Doo Series

The old saying says those who can, do, and those who doo-doo, doo-doo. In honor of them, we launch the doo-doo series of Rustywhear.

The distinctive design of the Monkey Thoroughing Poo Rimmed T says it all.

But for those who need to say more, the Monkey Thoroughing Poo Commemorative Stamp lets you send your US Postal Mail in style!!

Or, get the Monkey Thoroughing Poo Framed Tile!! for your office!

And, if you sponsor a children's baseball team, why not outfit them in the Monkey Thoroughing Poo Children's Baseball Jersey

F^CK YOU, Pluto!

Finally, members of the International Asstronomical Union are beginning to follow the directives of the First Unichurck. As go the asstronuts, so go the terrestrialnuts. It is only a matter of time, now, before the alienation becomes inalienable.

Flocking to the Flock

"Please, please do not base your economy on cockfighting."

Nagin calls for Chocolate from the Fed

In an unprecedented and unorthodox move on Friday in Indianapolis, New Orleans Mayor Ray Nagin, who has often been accused of wearing a skull prosthesis for effect (people with large, mushroom-shaped bald heads evidently seem smarter than their non-mushroomed counterparts), made a plea to the Federal Government to speed the relief to the Katrina-torn city. What made the request atypical was it's gustatory if not frankly culinary nature: Nagin insisted that he hated the oranges from "Orange County" California because they are too vanilla for him (does he also hate something everyone loves--Creamsicles? We can only speculate), and then proceeded to go right off the deep end by insisting that all future relief dollars be actual chocolate, to fit in with his previous "Chocolate New Orleans" political strategy. As the masturbating metaphor-junkies in the audience really started to spin, Nagin shocked the crowd by responding to a question,

"No, I'm talking about ACTUAL chocolate federal dollars. You know, like the
kind you used to get in your Christmas stocking as a kid. Or if you're Jewish,
given to you by your parents on Channauka as a sort ofpre-conditioning--HA!
That's pretty funny, aint' it? I love the Jews. Come in a little mesh bag. Gold
foil wrappers. Indistinguishable from legal tender until you pop 'em in your
mouth. You all know what I mean.
The larger plan is to create an entire
(Nagin slowed his speech at this point for dramatic effect) CONFECTIONERY
economy, if I may. The long-range plan that I and my advisors have come up with
is to take those chocolate federal dollars (another dramatic pause), and place
them...in the chocolate bank we're presently constructing next to Cafe Du Monde
in the French Quarter--though I may be prone to a few, how should I say,
'personal' deposits into my mouth, if you know what I'm saying-- and
then...simply live off the interest. We could even replace paper money with
beignets if things work out. Maybe a little messy with all that powder, but
worth exploring. It's a well-organized, comprehensive plan, and there's no
Vanilla, if you know what I'm saying."

When asked for comment, OneEar was noted to remark something non-sequitur and essentially unintelligible. But, he stated, University of Wisconsin, Madison,has dropped from number 1 (Number 1? Number 1?) to number 5 in the BigList.

Steroid Use Denied

Renowned blogger OneEar, who persists in writing in the third person, today denied any use of writing-enhancing chemicals.

"I have three extremely large testicles," claimed Ear, "and my writing simply reflects that anatomical reality."

Ear's bodily fluids will be exposed to bleach and a washcloth in order to remove them from the counter-top. Commenting on performance enhancing chemicals, Ear indicated his support for smoking them out. "I do not support mandatory drug testing," indicated Ear. "Recreational drug testing works just fine."

Ear believes this scandal is a distraction from more important issues such as how much money is being spent to kill how many people and at whom Lindsey Lohan is mad.

"This is a sad day for my family and for the sport of writing," read Ear's prepared remarks, "and my only goal is to see how we can all move forward and put this unfortunate episode behind us. Please, for the sake of the children."

New #2 Lives Up To Title

Her Next Friend, the Virginia power trio band best known for its dedicated stance against the number pi, has released its next EP - New #2. http://cdbaby.com/cd/hernextfriend2

To the ear of this reviewer, the band is gressing. There are hints of early Who, some Lou Reed, and a bit of Nirvana lingering around on these tracks, but there is also something new emerging!?! Will it grow, or will it be aborted? What will it be when it matures? Why do they hate circles?

FREE HALEY JOEL

Haley Joel Osmond, youngest of the talented Osmond family, was wrongfully charged with several minor "crimes" yesterday.

According to wikipedia, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Haley_Joel_Osment

On August 17, 2006, TMZ.com reported that Osment was charged with DUI and marijuana possession. At 3:20 that day, Osment was charged with four criminal counts: Driving under the influence of alcohol, driving with a .08 blood alcohol level or higher, enhancement of driving with a .15 or higher, and possession of marijuana while driving. [1]

His trial is scheduled for September 19, 2006 and he could face up to six months in jail if convicted. [2]

You will recall Osmond from that 70's variety show, Haley Joel and Dawn.

Now, I'm no lawyer, but how can it be that driving with a BAC of .16 is two crimes? As to whether it should even be one crime, please refer to my previous posts about Ted Kennedy.

I Had Tears When I Read This

Subject: Two Choices

What would you do? You make the choice! Don't look for a punch line; There isn't one! Read it anyway. My question to all of you is: Would you have made the same choice?

At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves disabled children, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a question: “Where is the natural order of things in my son?”

“When not interfered with by outside influences, everything the almighty does is done with perfection. Yet my son, Shaq, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do. And he is 7 feet tall and weighs 300 pounds? Where is the natural order of things in my son?”

The audience was stilled by the query.

The father continued. "I believe, that when a child like Shaq, physically and mentally handicapped comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes, in the way other people treat that child." Then he told the following story:

Shaq and his father had walked past a stadium where some people Shaq knew were playing basketball. Shaq asked, Do you think they'll let me play? Shaq's father knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shaq on their team, but the father also understood that if his son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps.

Shaq's father approached one of the boys on the field and asked if Shaq could play, not expecting much. The boy looked around for guidance and said, “We're losing by sixteen points, and the game is in the fourth period. I guess he can be on our team seeing as how he is extremely large.”

Shaq struggled over to the team's bench put on a team shirt with a broad smile and his Father had a small tear in his eye and warmth in his heart. The boys saw the father's joy at his son being accepted. Shaq's team scored a few points but was still be hind by three. Even though the game was closer, they put Shaq into the game. And even though nobody passed him the ball, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game, grinning from ear to ear as his father waved to him from the stands.

As time wound down, Shaq’s team closed the gap and was down by only 1. There was the choice – do they let Shaq stay in the game and risk the chance that he might get fouled and have to shoot free throws or do they pull him?

They left Shaq in the game. The opposing team, recognizing Shaq’s situation, left him unguarded so that he could catch a pass. Then, in an extreme act of kindness, they all mauled him in an obvious foul. Shaq would get to shoot free-throws.

As Shaq stepped up to the foul line to shoot his first shot, the crowd began chanting, “Shaq, Shaq.” His shot was straight as an arrow with very little arc, but after it bricked against the back rimmed and up into the backboard, it miraculously fell through the hoop. Shaq had made a free-throw.

By now, the crowd was in a frenzy. All were screaming, "Shaq, Shaq, Shaq, all the Way Shaq"

Shaq dribbled once, twice, thrice and then held the small basketball in one of his giant hands. His huge arm cocked like a rocket launcher, and he let ball fly like a catapult launching a golf ball. Again, the trajectory was absolutely flat if not slightly downward. The force of the ball impacting the front of the rim not only bounced the ball 20 feet into the air above, but it immediately shattered the plexiglass backboard and caused the rim to fall to the ground below. As the rim clanked onto the floor, with glass falling all around, the ball fell from high above and landed directly in the middle of the hoop. Shaq had won the game!

“That day,” said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, “the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world.”

Shaq never forgot being the hero for a day. Instead of dying, he decided to become a multi-millionaire NBA player despite his handicaps.

AND, NOW A LITTLE FOOTNOTE TO THIS STORY: We all send thousands of jokes through the e-mail without a second thought, but when it comes to sending messages about life choices, people think twice about sharing. The crude, vulgar, and often obscene pass freely through cyberspace, but public discussion about decency is too often suppressed in our schools and workplaces.

If you're thinking about forwarding this message, chances are that you're probably sorting out the people on your address list that aren't the "appropriate" ones to receive this type of message. Well, the person who sent you this believes that we all can make a difference. We all have thousands of opportunities every single day to help realize the "natural order of things." So many seemingly trivial interactions between two people present us with a choice: Do we pass along a little spark of love and humanity or do we pass up that opportunity to brighten the day of those least able and leave the world a little bit colder in the process?

A wise man once said every society is judged by how it treats it's least fortunate amongst them.

You now have two choices:
1. Pass this inspirational story along to any 7 foot tall 300 pounders that you know; or
2. Forget about this and get back to your spreadsheets.

Which one will you choose?

Pro-Planetary Legislation Needed

The sanctity of planetary existence has been under attack by so-called liberals who would expand the definition of what constitutes a planet. Bucking traditional planetary values, these people would define "planet" in such a way that a horse would qualify as a planet. Should we all go live on a horse?

The International Astronomical Union has proposed a definition of:

a celestial body with sufficient mass to assume a nearly spherical shape that orbits a star without being another star or a satellite of another planet. By this definition, the list of planets in order from the sun now reads: Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Ceres, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, Pluto-Charon (considered a double-planet system) and the newly discovered and officially unnamed 2003 UB313, otherwise known as Xena.

The committee also proposed a new category of planets, called plutons, be applied to those bodies that, like Pluto, both take longer than 200 Earth years to revolve around the sun and have eccentric orbits outside the typical orbital plane.

The First Unichurck has already made its position clear on this subject. The mistake was in including Pluto instead of Xena in the chosen nine.

But now, these reductio ad absurdists have attacked the whole dignity of planetariness. They want to literally throw the baby out with the bath water, and that is a form of post-birth abortion. The First Unichurck opposes post-birth abortion (with certain exceptions such as telemarketers, e-spammers, and Ted Kennedy).

Let's stop the insanity. If you want to make up a new definition for your little round objects, then so be it. Call them "happy-balls" or "space thingies." But, for the sake of the children, leave our "planet" alone.

Rusty's Unextinct The Rhino Operation

Rusty's Unextinct the Rhino Operation (code Rut-Ro) has begun reanimation processes to re-originate the black rhino. In a sharp split from his past directives, Rusty is now endorsing certain classes of the undead including Saviors and rhinoceri (but not garden variety zombies or accountants).

Rusty's godly directive to "Get f^cked by a rhino" will be analyzed over coming months by the First Unichurck high council. Chief spokesman OneEar has indicated that, in this instance, he would rather that someone else be "the chosen One."

The True Churck has begun stockpiling petroleum jelly, screw drivers, and other prying implements in anticipation of the high council's canonical imperative.

Rhinorevival

I've got it! We'll recreate the now extinct black rhino.

The way I understand Darwinism, somebody needs to f^ck white rhinos and then kill the offspring until a black rhino appears. This is called natural preservation.

Then, somebody needs to f^ck that black rhino and give it all kinds of treats. This is called natural selection. It is how you origin a species.

Get to work, rhino-f^ckers!

Way to Extinguish Another Cool Animal, A$$w!pes.

Well, now you've gone and killed off the Western black rhino. see Western black rhino feared extinct. Way to go, rhino-f^ckers!

Hypoothesis

There was this ape, a very large ape, that escaped from the zoo. It wandered into an upscale hotel, snuck past security, and, after eating some extremely spicy buffalo wings and, apparently, a cigar, it broke into room 519, shat on the floor, picked up both of the occupants, stamped their feet in its sh!t, reset one of their watches back 4 hours, knocked the mirror off of the wall and then took all of the towels and left.

SOS - A Mystery
A Clue

The Following May be a clue to the Mystery:

These strange entries were captured on police radio scanners:

Alceste:
And...there is no more smoking in bars. You need to file a suit on
conventioneers behalf. We just passed that law in BR as well. tsk
tsk. I am free as the wind, just trying to clean up the shit in my
bathroom before the maid is stuck with it. Call me when you are
available.

OneNoteSolo:
You clean up for the maid but not CocoaNoGoGo? The trail of shit stains you
left at his house was epic.... Be careful and do not tape dollar bills to your
fur as a trusting wookieI know once did....

Alceste:
The sad thing is that I did clean up in Chicago--it is just that the job
was so immense. On a similar note,I shit myself last week on I55 in
Mississippi. I was between exits, and the guts were rumbling. I
squeezed and squeezed, and, luckily, made it to an exit. There was an
Exxon a mile down the road, but it was boarded shut. I began to panic, and
tried to go down the other way---bad mistake. My bowels exploded and the
runny brown liquid oozed out everywhere, soiling the seat of kristin's new
Altima with a brown paste. I drove to the back of a church and found an
fence-enclosed air conditioning area. The fence was short, but I had no
choice. I stripped down and attempted to clean myself with a new pack of
Hanes undershirts. It was simply too much poo. Then, a pickup truck
pulled into the lot, but it went to the front of the building. I put on
some other shorts, but the brown evil paste was still everywhere. I put
down one ofHunter's blankets over the shit in the car, and I made it to Taco
Bell and cleaned up in the bathroom, then returned to the church to retrieve my
shit coated clothing. I couldn't leave that for the ac repairman to
discover. I found a convenience store and bought a roll of paper towels
and some Orange Clean. It worked like a charm. Later that evening, I
rinsed the crap-laden clothing out in the hotel tub, but the drain was slow, and
I couldn't get things to flow south. I checked out in the morning, leaving
the stained undershirts in the trash of the hotel room. I felt bad for the
lady who would have to clean the shit up, and feel bad for this lady as well
here in Madison. However, I suppose that is the cost of doing business with a
pig like myself.

Alceste:
Everyone--in an unbelievable sequence of actions, I blasted mud in
the shower this morning, coating the walls and clogging, once again, the
drain. I have been traveling for two weeks, and the food is killing
me.

Now, what could have happened on that famed evening of Wookies and Grizzly bears sleeping in the poopy hotel? Which of the large, furry creatures crapped the floor in this scatological mystery? And left their respective paw prints in the doo? The fact that both had traipsed through the evidence, casually unaware, makes the mystery even more difficult to solve. And, to add insult to injury, Grizzly blames Wookie, and Wookie diplomatically states he can't imagine who could have broken into the room just to do that, force them both to stride through the mess, break the mirror, and steal the towels.

The image of a Grizzly squatting down behind an air-conditioning fence trying to clean liquid turd off his fur is suspicious, thought-provoking, nauseating, yet somehow hysterical. Who can crack the code? This case is sure to go cold.

SOS - A Mystery

It was a weekend like so many others, beautiful sunny weather in an idyllic midwestern city. But, during this weekend, something would go terribly wrong.

It began innocently enough when a middle-aged man, we'll call him Alceste, enrolled in some sort of conference. The conference happened to be venued at the home city of your hero and mine, OneEar.

Thursday evening ended without a splash. The following is excerpted verbatim from Alceste's report:

Just spent the evening in the company of the wookie. Here is my report. We went to the college where they have an immense terrace that serves beer. We heard a band warm up for an hour, play one song, then they put all their shit away. The wookie seemed sober. His back was straight, and he wasn't holding his stomach. He did not break anything, and he said "excuse me" when walking past another table. He did not leave any trails of fur. Is this a ruse? Am I being luled into a situation that could turn ugly? Please advise.

Friday, Alceste apparently reported to his conference and your hero and mine, OneEar aka "the wookie", reported for duty to the office. After spending the day tending to their respective professional obligations, the two reconvened Friday afternoon for the occassion of having OneEar drive one of Alceste's colleagues to a Harley Davidson store (read all over tarnation).

After a few pitchers of beer at a beer garden and a couple of beers at Rusty's tavern, OneEar and Alceste parked at Alceste's hotel, ditched the colleague and set out on foot for some drinking proper. The first stop involved, you guessed it, beer, as well as some extremely spicy buffalo wings. (Note: this clue may or may not be relevant later). The duo continued bar-hopping through the evening and into the night until they returned to Alceste's hotel.

Flash forward 8 hours. It is now 10am on Saturday. "Housekeeping!" is knocking at the door. OneEar awakes, checks his watch which reads 6:00am, and wonders aloud, "What the f&ck?" "Occupado," he yells.

Looking down, OneEar notices that he is still fully clothed except for his shoes, but there is what appears to be sh!t all over his feet and bedsheets. "What the f&ck?" He takes a second look around the room. Alceste is beginning to rustle in his bed. Good, he is still alive. The large hotel mirror has been knocked off the wall and the door to the adjacent room is open.

OneEar sits up and notices that Alceste too has what appears to be sh!t all over his feet and bedsheets and there is a large wiped up mess of what appears to be sh!t all over the carpeting at the foot of Alceste's bed.

"Alceste, What the f&ck?"

"I don't know," says Alceste.

"What happened here?" wonders OneEar.

"I don't know," says Alceste.

"Well clean that sh!t up."

Alceste returns from the bathroom with one wet washcloth and throws it on the pile of diarrhea. "We should go," he says.

OneEar goes into the bathroom to wash his feet in the tub. "Where are all of the towels," he asks when he is done.

"I don't know," says Alceste. "We should go."

So, after leaving their last $5 for housekeeping (Not nearly enough), Alceste went down to check out promptly and OneEar proceeded to the parking garage to pull the car around and they left the mystery behind them.

What could have happened?

On Adfinitem

The alien nation is building.

The Verfremdungseffekt for Vendetta initative of the First Unichurck is nearing culmination of the test stage. It is time to renew. Members are invited to re-member. Judgment is passed. Only in this way can the FU make sense.

The Clowns have emerged from behind the painted smile to reveal their inherent anarchy. These are not characters. The sound they produce is not music, unless music is irony.

None will be held against their will, for they have no will. All are left alienated eventually, zombies one-upped by partial bodies with gelatinous souls.

Is this a comedic war? Are we really at war? Who then the Warrior?

What is the Clown without the mask? What is the revolt without the humor?

On War

von Clausewitz' classic treatise On War begins with the simple question, "What is War? (Was ist der Krieg)" He answers that question a mere paragraph later with the statement, "War therefore is an act of violence to compel our opponent to fulfil our will." (J.J. Graham translation, 1873).

Note that "our will" and "our opponent" assume a "we" with consensus. This assumed consensus is problematic in societies with diffused power and various agendas. If "we" cannot agree on our intentions, we do not have a shared will to fulfil. This is the principle reason why we are failing in the war on Iraq, the war on terror, and the war on poverty.

Let's take the most important case, the war on poverty. In that case, the opponent is poverty. Poverty is defined as "the state of having little or no money and few or no material possessions". So, now we know which state to attack.

What is the appropriate act of violence? We could choose beheading or cutting off nipples like the ancient Irish? Or, we could blow up some cities like more contemporary warriors. Before deciding how to hurt the state of poverty, we must decide what we want to compel poverty to do.

What is "our" will? Let us assume that our will is to enrich ourselves. By that I mean enrich myself. I don't give a damn about you (for rhetorical purposes). But what of your desire to enrich yourself? When we try to determine the appropriate act of violence to compel the state of poverty to fulfil "our" will, we run smack dab into the concept of "me."

The solution to this dilemma is the immediate suspension of any and all dissention. We need to be united in our violence. Remember, there is no "I" in "team," but there is a "me" "met" "mate" "at" "meat" "tea." That sounds like something a monkey could be taught to say by sign language.

von Clausewitz' model tries to "emphasise the necessary and general, and to leave a margin for the play of the particular and accidental; but to exclude all that is arbitrary, unfounded, trifling, fantastical; or sophistical."

Now do you see the big mistake?

On Weeeee

Our friend Alceste (motto: mihi in odi est) has been noticeably absent from FU services for the last few months. His absence corresponds suspiciously with his new employment. Does anyone believe in coincidence any more? I didn't think so.

This caused me to ponder the larger question - Is gainful employment anathema to the True Churck?

In order to enable myself to answer this pressing question, I turn to the dictionary in order to figure out what "anathema" means:

anything laid up or suspended; hence anything laid up in a temple or set apart as sacred. In this sense the form of the word is _anath(ee)ma_, once in pluralused in the Greek New Testament, in Luke 21:5, where it is rendered "gifts." In the LXX, the form _anathema_ is generally used as the rendering of the Hebrew word "herem", derived from a verb which means

(1) to consecrate or devote; and

(2) to exterminate.

Now we're getting somewhere. I've been looking for a verb that means both to consecrate and to exterminate. This is sort of like loving someone to death. That happened to my pet frog when I was a kid.

I still am left to wonder - is Alceste's absence the result of a shunning? You will note from the linked article that Jehovah's Witnesses apparently use shunning to "disfellowship" members who stray from the flock. I believe JW's "disfellowship"may be the derivation for the phrase "Don't `dis' me motherf^cker!"

Alceste, I'm not sure who is the shunner and who is the shunnee in this instance, but I think it is time to refellowship. Otherwise, I'm going to anathematize your ass.

On Tolo Gee

Coco is missing, and the time-honored tolo dance is being turned into a freak show. Coincidence?

Tolo is another name for the Sadie Hawkins dance. This is a tradition whereby, in a vast role-reversal, the women have control over who gets laid. At Mountlake Terrace High School, the tolo girls opted for everyone on the dance floor. According to news reports, they engaged in "freak dancing" which:

involves bumping, grinding, dancing back to front, bending over and more.

This, of course, brought Coco immediately to mind. Let me say at the outset that I have never supported the right of young people to bend over, and I don't want my comments to be misconstrued to the contrary. If I had my way, all teenagers would be strapped to boards.

But dancing back to front really is something to see. I have witnessed Coco dancing back to front, (by himself of course), and I cannot begin to describe the look of shocked horror on the faces of all of the other dancers.

It leads one to ask, when does an activity cease being a dance and start being a chase/flee? Amor Fati, the love of faith, exemplifies Coco's ontology and the way he finds meaning in life through dance. But must it be such a dirty faith?

To Florida

Bodaciousa

Important Boudica discussion