Gastronomy, Gases Strung Out In Space

 

Honeymooners in Space

Universe 13, Planet 41

41st Chapter of the Stellar Bus

 

            While laughing at Ed Norton and coughing in his hand held microphone, Ralph forced a smile on his face while he mechanized his own clearing the irritants of  such mucus and colonial colon escapees so he can begin greeting and grating the berated present day paid accumulants who acted like they were boarding his radiation powered space bus.

            “Hello and Solar Sphere to all of you Ions with high-efficiency particulate air HEPA cosmicpolitians ,  I wish you were thinking you will be going from here to there.

            “I also would like to transport you from your low densities of matter in outer space up odor to  give you the means for some electromagnetically radiated personal travel  to your vacational metallic odder scents of arc welding fumes.

            “Arise and amass into our baryonic matter benches, seats, and sleepable rooms.  Here and there, the light and flight of dacryon might freight a transport for you across various millennial of time and distance.  

            “We can and calamity will force you into Electrospuratic Waves which we keep sparkinating a malignosphere in stagmights that you stink and think you are the kinks as I wink.

            “1180 ferromagnetism rocks and magnetars  around 20  times 10 to the 23^rd kilometers will be receiving you as quantum-relativistic cylinders thinner for your arrival.

            “I am a member of a group of Omnibus Diverter operators who enjoys working for the United Field Hyperbolics fleet of mass transportational devices.  You can call me, Ralph Kramden.  No ignorance is displayed by Edward Norton, our version of an engineer, or so he thinks, if you can call that thinking, he does.   Included in your meeting list  there is Ed’s wife, Trixie, and mine, Alice, I alike.

            “Welcome aboard.”  

            Ed then said to Ralph, “Maybe they should have a strip to the moon.  I keep thinking of tripping over the moon.”

            Riding up to their compartments along the bus’s long and winding road were several people who were Spacists, several  filled with very thin gas.  Primary Colonials composed of hydrogen and helium.  And occasional gaseous gals who like carbon, oxygen, and nitrogen.

            Trixie talked to a Nebulae, “I like your giant clouds, those gases and dusts.  I often want to hug your hydrogen and helium; they belong in nurseries for new stars.”

            She smiled and said, “Radio astronomers examined my dust clouds and  centered my own galaxy in order to fountain the evidence of the chemical ethyl formate.  Mine sure are  responsible for  flavoring raspberries in different celestial bows.”

            Ralph then whispered, “"She's right, Norton. She's right. There's nothing wrong with giants like Jupiter and Saturn.  Trixie and Alice have their own atmospheres composed of various gases, including hydrogen, helium…  Sometimes they just  want to stay neutron predominate. It's my fault."

            Ed then sang out loud, or is that a Sang Out Lout:

                                    Light Sabers

Life Savors

Life Sabers

Like Saving

Light Saviors

 

            This caused Trixie to ask, “Cannibal or cannon ball?  Is this your New World Order or did a Newt Twirled Occur?”

            There were massive clouds of alcohol, primarily methyl alcohol (methanol), walking up the spacecraft aisle, introducing themselves to  several well-known Sagittarius B2 clouds near the Space Bus’s center.

            A well-dressed Gas, called Intergalactic Medium, flitted between the Space Gals in the third row.  He told them “Methane Gases, such as me, are crucial for life as we know it.”   

            One Gal told another “Some Gas sure considers himself a biosignature.  In Outer Space, who needs Biology?”

            Then three lightest atoms in the periodic table claiming they are to be Accreted the beginning  orbiting disks of gas formed  the fusion with that passing by Meteoric Quinone who is very  conducive to the expert experimental family called Chemiosmotic Energy who like to carry crosses displaying lipid membranes. 

            Ralph pointed this out to Alice, who told him, “ Well, if I was asked to describe your geologic build, I'd say you have, uh, very well developed muscles, uh, a good bone structure, very good bone structure, fine frame... and the whole thing is covered with fat.”

            Ralph just growled, “Dimethyl sulfide on my planet is my life.”

            That was when Mr. Abiogenesis Natural proceeded by them with his own starlite arising from fellow non-celestial matter.  He bragged that his pal, Sagittarius B2, spans over 150 light-years and is estimated to contain enough alcohol to fill 400 trillion trillion pints of beer.

            Upon hearing that, Ed snickered, “"I'm gonna learn all the expressions, too, like ‘Mi-crobe-flee-odd-do’, ‘12 Victor Hess balloon experiments’, and ‘High Particle Radar, alligator, later as I'm eating a potato’, all that stuff, I'm gonna solar burn."

            And suddenly, the next group of passengers were called, ‘Somewhat Farts.’  The prism that displayed that said, “These people are radarley domed.”

Trixie replied, “That is radarley domed to you but it is smelly doomed to me.”

That parsec then said, “You may think we are smell doom, but you are odor drones.”

Trixie then said, “Oh, just muon out!”

He answered, “You are sure getting piony.”

Ed pointed out to Trixie, “You sure inflict on microelectronics  a long time.”

All of a sudden primordial soup, passing electrical sparks through a container of gases brought a large quantity of gas around with itself like an energy store, perhaps as a provision for a long trip between nebulas.  Organisms used gas vesicles to control buoyancy and position.  Others optimally photosynthesized themselves. 

That made Alice point out to Trixie, “When she says things about your old boyfriends and about their teraelectronvolts in the inactive galactic nuclei, I know that she doesn't mean to get you cosmic rays. She's just naturally antimatter, that's all."

Filling in the rows of seats those atmospheric entries of Micro-Meteorite, and Implosion of Bubble in C-Space and Optical Waves rustled and pinged.  Alfred Kreb started cycling  another electron transport chain. “Life on earth is not solid. Our cells are mostly made up of water and we have gases coursing through our blood springs, in our lungs etc.” 

            Which caused some shouting of:

                        “Hate Me!”

“Space Meat!”

“Cosmic Sheet!”

“My Flight is in Elevations!”

“It is filled with your Cathode Raynes!”

“I observed to call you my hiness!”

“In electromagnetic radiation I’ll Call You Hiss ness!”

            And Ralph just turned to Alice and said, “For that last space warp, Alice, I'm telling you, I'm going for the technique of self-recording electroscopes carried by balloons into the highest layers.”

Then Alice whispered, “ For the last time, Ralph, I'll be very happy with your aching experiments of Professor Regener.”

To which, Ralph shouted, “Is this the 1920s?  Am I the term cosmic ray!   Peanuts!  What am I gonna do with peanuts?”

Alice kissed him and said, “Solar Wind 'em, like any other elephant.”

                                                                                            

           

                                                                    I enjoyed writing this                                                                                                                                    I hope you enjoyed reading this                                                                                                                    I hope you read some of THESE

Dig Dog Do You Dodgers

 

            In one of the vibrations of the universe The Dog and The Photon’s verses were waverfied to The Dog studying the makeup of the ground up and the ground in college.  Grounds all around. 

            That meant The Dog had studied the gasses and guesses and guests in the various gusts of the Earth where he was spending timing in school.  The Dog spent his time, alright, and The Earth did not spend even a dime.  Nickle here, nickel there, nickels nick less everywhere.  The Dog studied and tried to remember how magma’s mama rises from the heated pressed center and combinations of hydroxidates and nitrites and various carboniferouses made, shaped, misshaped and transformed solidifying, cooling chemical substances which seep out regularly of the Earth’s sole.  Igneous, sedimentary, and coniferous slabs are said to make up where man, both kind and unkind, footed their world.  Upon graduating The Dog was informed that businesses did not want to hire any living things that understood the makeup of the world.  They wanted workers that would follow people in makeup, markup, and mass discontent, continent by continent, continually.  So, to encourage life, instead of outrage it, The Dog got a job to manage restaurants for a restaurant chain which had a racist name.  There sure was no resting in restaurants.  Although some people call them restrooms.  Since The Dog was educated, the restaurant chain’s owner did not want him exuding anything learned, so he earned the must to go from restaurant to restaurant after each few short weeks, since being short with the weak would not add to any thoughts the people that showed up at these places would gain.  Gain or Loss, that is how it is. 

            The Dog became a permanently hired restaurant manager who replaces sick managers at varieties and variations with no vacations in a variation of that very nation with all their notions of that brand’s restaurants across Indiana.

            The Photon, on the other hand and the other paw and with other pauses was profited and proffered profusely as a professor being possessed with a bunch of passes in the past from Wisconsin, and among those many other sins, who vacations in Indiana and hikes across the state.  The Photon diametrically lit up his students too much according (or is that accordioning) to his students parents.  Since those parents were the ones that paid for those students’ educations, then The Photon must listen to them.  They want their kids in darkness.  They are not Kidding.  That made The Photon to start up his personal, solo, lone walking trips through Indiana, in order to give his students, the isolations their parents felt and pelted, wealthed or not, and many nuts, in their own knots,  that those kids deserved.  They are being deserted and desserted.

            On the way down to an Indiana City which held a state prison, The Dog stopped at a state’s reserved forest preserve and walked himself along the river which held statues of what the inhabitants put up with during the last great Glacial Period.  While The Dog was there, on his way towards his first dinner management sickness shielding stop he stopped to start walking along official states’ paths.  The Photon bumped into him in a group and told them that the Wisconsin Glaciation retreated from Indiana 10,000 years ago so Indiana could not claim state representatives had heroically survived those ice sheets because Indiana was not an official state until December 11, 1816, which is not quite 10,000 years ago.

            The Dog went to Wet LaFayette.  He still hopes to be Laughed At Yet.  He did get laughed at when he burned arm on grill while he was actually cleaning it.  How can you call a facility owned grill clean when there are Dog arm carbonations, carbonatics, and other parts of the attacked attics in, on, and over, and I mean all over it.  The Dog was then Taken to the Hospital. And by  ‘Taken to the Hospital’  I mean the managers’ state wide supervisor told him to drive himself to the Hospital so the restaurant does not get into any legal trouble.  The Dog made it back to keep cooking and kooking.  The Photon beamed The Dog’s head and handled him like a puppet so the puppy could look like he is driving himself to the Intervention Care Unit, get covered with oil not from the stove, bandaged with band aides as a visual aide, wooden you not move it cast so his arm looked like it was being saved for a wonderful life, and then the hostile hospital peep holes smiled as it looked like The Dog walked back into his car and drove himself back to the restaurant from which he came.  The Photon also noted but did not stop the who spies workers from wilting The Dog’s wallet by letting money out so they could write up a deceitful receipt for half of the taken amount claiming they received for saving The Dog’s valuable life.

            As time started going on The Dog was next kept in a low priced local kennel while he worked as the Fort Wayne, Temple of Doom, or is that Tempting The Domed Restaurant as a  Manager to temporarily replace the one who had the microbes and would not be at this time allowed to run the restaurant in person, or in prison, and handle the cash register for his permanent customers consumers and costumers.  Speaking of Prisons, that local kennel was also holding a killing animal while the social and unlogical poor lice held it in a cage next to the cage The Dog was paying for.  The Photon lighted, high lighted, and delighted the village laundromat so The Dog could claim he is always clean and not just keen when he is Working as the Restaurant Manager when he is Working for that particular Restaurant Manager.

            In Terre Haute, not far from the Turkey Run State Park  the permanent manager, who was sleeping with his regular waitress while his irregular wife vacationed in a state other than Indiana, well that not at that time manager had recently hired someone whose wife steals displayed objects such as vases and shot glasses.  The Photon ribbed The Dog and told him that this was the date that the state inhibited inhabitants would honor a yearly religious date by letting people of that specifically  religion pay with prayers.  The Photon came in to light up The Dog’s life so he could work twenty four hours a day for three days straight and claim the coverage of the vases and shot glasses of the new employee’s wife who left and were never heard from again.

            Next The Dog wagged and waged his way and weight all the way towards Bloomingdale the place where you share your roomers and ask the girl next to you ‘Where are your Bloomers?’  The Dog was managing the cashless register while a new employee comes in for a used visual restaurant shirt.  The Dog took him into the non frigid food storage room in back where the cleaning supplies and shirts and ties were stored.  This New Employee was also a Nude Employee and was the Emploding of The Photon so The Dog covered him up with a reversable tie and a pleasant peasant pheasant shirt.  He now fit in with the wing ding feathers in the rest of that restaurant.

            Finally, The Dog managed to act like his was managing a restaurant in Indianapolis just in time for the 500 mile race, hoping and hopping for 500 smiles from racists. The Dog was frying some burgers on the grill and cooking three eggs in the microwave oven when a retired regular person came in for a cup of coffee.  He told The Dog that he would warn him if someone came in to talk The Dog’s employees into joining a union.  That coffee was lit up by The Photon who used that moment to make complete his Union with The Dog as they were again United and Untied and they went On and On and On across the cross of  their crass crashed Onion Field.  Who Do You See Fields?

            This unfit of unity united The Dog with the surreal world and he left artificially managing real and fake workers in restaurants.  Lefting them was right.

 

                                                               I hope you enjoyed reading this                                                                                                                     I hope you will enjoy reading some of THESE

           

Hand Helled Devices

 

               I felt my heart and I put a hand to my head.  There I was, pounding and warm and pouting and swarmed.   What was it?   What is it?  Faith or Fatality?  Are the Swine to run all night?  Do I need my Wine to run all day?  I left my buddies for a ring tailed pig.  Somebody yelled at my hay!  Are you Nose Fur Achu?  Cousin Tight.  You seem like you sure Draw Cula.  Will you get Franked and Stoned?  Where Golf?  Is there a Van Fire?  I hope that is Not King Kong.   Maybe it will be just Ping Pong.  Just?  And with no cheating shots?  Speaking of shots.  Electron Man.  Neutrino Man.  Light Bright whenever a Blight Man can.  Lava Man.  Proton Boys.  Pro Tun Lives just like toys. 

               You are Hair Man.  You call yourself Skin Man.  You are a Sin Man.  You get directed by the Snail Man.  Come on, Shoe Man.  You need to Show Man.  You are not even Sound Man.  You step on all our Souls Man.  You call yourself a Sweet Heart.  And you sure have your Sweat Arms.  I hope I get no Harms.  Whatever comes after the Water Man is in the Water Main.  You lost a lot when you were Suer Man.  They just called you the  Sewer Man.  I think I am Lazar Man or at least Lazy Man.  We are just a bunch of No Men who are called Nomads.  My neighbor said you were Home Man or maybe Human or was that Hue Man or Who Man.

Up in the sky there was the Ceilium Man vs Seldom Man.  That Man and Robust or Robot or Robin sure keeps Robbing US.  Stealing Steeling Squealing Switching Snitching Itching.  You and me are just a Caveman and a Brontosaurus.  To me you should be Slave Man.  Out across the water you are Sale Man.  And beached up you are Sand Man, you sun on a beach. 

Instead of greedy you are churning greeny, you Salad Man.  You claim that you mounted a lot of things, you Mount Tan Man.  Should I Agree to Argue?  Are You?  You are such a Fake Mustache which really is a Nose Fun Tattoo.  Oh! Oh! Oh!  You are Owe Man.  And that makes my  Omen Man.  I look out for Man Pants vs Pants Man.  I hunger for Food Man.  I must be a Fool Man.  Someone slammed my Foot Man.  Am I anyone you can Stand Man?  Stand? Slam?  Sand?  You must be Silt Man. If there is more than one of you, you would be split men, through your Slits, Men.  And if you are more than Won, I really have lost.  I wish I lost you.

Muddy Muddy Mud Man.  You are full of lies you Fossilized Man.  Look up to My hero, Rock Man.  Your say your life is musical, you Roll Man.  Over here, Oven there, you pop out Biscuit Man.  Bliss Quick.  Just Quit.  You burn me, you Barney, you are just Pebble Man.  And you claim you are People Man.  The truth is you are Peep Hole Man. 

We all need some harmony.  No guts.  No guitars.  No harmonica.  We are all Hair Man.  I am called Herman.  I wish I was Her Man.  When I try to talk to her, she can’t even Hear Man.  She looks like such a bunny.  She just keeps on hopping away.  She made me into a Hare Man.

What language am I speaking?  German?  I sure am full of Germs Man.  Oil and pokes.  Life is full of Gears Man.  And they keep coming Near Man. I am humilified.  I am all washed up.  You sure are a Humidifier.  I really am not a Human Definer.  We all think of you as a Humane Defier.  There you go, You, You, You Mandy Fire.

I keep thinking that my life is Missing Accomplished.  But is it really someone’s Mission Complexity?  Hey you!   Do you want a cease fire?  But all I heard was “No!  I want to keep you seeing me fire!  See Me Fire Until I hit you, or at least seer you.”  I need to just steer away from you, you  Bull Steer.

So, I just waved good bye. You waved Good Buy.  I wish there was a girl who, when she saw me, she would wave Good Boy.

               This is just a Crushing Assault, and it ain’t even done right.  Did you  mean a Cussac’s Law?  How about a cousin of some cussings?  And that brings such a sock to my mouth.  Sock Jaw.  Such Law. 

 

               Oh:  Brain, Brain, Go Away

                       There’s Putin’s Donald out to play

         Look for us the ghost to get slaid

         Of the one lost most today

 

Don’t blame about me, Melonie

You knew He was immoral

 

 

               Then I looked at the door and saw that I had to open it.  I opened it with a saw.  Was that what I was supposed to do?  Who supposes me, anyway?  Or at least imposes on me?  Any way at all.  And I do weigh a lot.   I’ll just get a shopping fart.  I’ll go with my Farter and Brother.   Brother he really is a Bother.  Just when  I was going to open a Fart Museum.  I had to go Farter than anyone.

               I only wanted to brag that it was Big Of Me, but everyone knew it was Bigamy.  I hope I do not get any Bigotry because people do not like it when other people are Biological.  They are just not Logical.  My life sure is a Big Old Tree.  Why do I need to keep up my Big Old Tries.  I am just hit with your Big Old Lies.  I am not living as a Bigamist.  Life is so fogged that I can’t see anyone in front of me.  Your claims of Biology are just a tube of Bologna.  Why should I try to branch out?  I really hate saying, Gee I’m A Tree.  I cannot see with Gee All That Mist.  You Mount All those Eruptions.  Well, lava to you.  Robbing me.  Taking my readings on your GeoMeter.  Gee You’re Not True.  Gee I’ve Not Trust.

                                                                I like writing                                                                                                                                                  I hope you like READING

Simpering Siblings

 

I was just sensing in the segmentations of silica subcultures.  I sat there with my engraved  random thoughts on these dolomitic stones.  Just sticking up along the walkway in my training area.  I hop.  I hope.  I skip.  I skype.  I jump.  I want to juniper berry, I mean bury, the world of condition that my contrition was in. 

I realized that our President is setting the Heat Wave.  A Catastrophic Heat Wave.  He sure is a Deep Veined Trombone, Sis.  But, Anna, your name spelled backwards is Anna.  And you just told me, Bob, my name spelled backwards is Bob.  But I am Robert.  And that spelled backwards is Trebor.  You keep calling me Dennis, which spelled backwards is Sinned.  I am not backward Sinned.

We keep arguing that verses agreeing verses makes me hungrying verses hollowing with my crying verses greedying which is definitely not a greeting.  Oh, you are Argue a Bull.  And that certainly is some Cow Plots.

I have to get across to you I have a nose problem.  I always thought you had all snorts of problems.  I know you think you are a  pro fem.  You just try to take my nose off, that’s my problem.  And your nose, like your life, sure blows.   That, sis, is your problem.  My nose keeps observing your problem, everywhere I turn.

And, another thing, I’m sure not as fat as I used to be.  You think you’re not Fat.   Art you?  You’re nuts.  You are fat.  You are tubby.

But then you tell me “You too!”

And was that really,  “YouTube?”

Think about it, I’m not as fat since I used two pies.

Oh, that last election.  Now there is No Taxation without MisInterpretation.  He just keeps telling all of us, and that is US, “Blood on Hue, Bludgeon Huge, I will build my Bulge on You.”  And I realize that he really thinks we all are saying, “Kill Me, Will You?”  And he feels that,  “It’s in our Will so he won’t get it until we get Killed.”

I just want to say to him, “Tell Me!  Tell Who?  Tell them your Hue. Not that You are Due.   Then, I will tell them I am very Huge.  In the past I would be called a Huguenot.  So, are you  French?”

And he will answer,  “ No, I am stale.”

I will respond, “Victor E Huge Or Not.  Pierre Allix, at Alencon and Latex.”

But getting back to you, sis, “The Handmaiden we Borrow.  Or did I mean ‘that we Burrow?’  Anyway, she sure looks like a Burro.”

And sis said back to me, “Don’t you know?  She was  initiated from the unknown, from the first lie.  Look at her burritos.  Those toes sure hoof me!”

Which caused me to react, “A poke on my toes sure makes me a lyre.  I lied  that I played all day.  Day Light, Day Bright, the first Clay you’ll seesaw tonight.”

She then just gave back, “You  look like  somebody put their stanch to your nose.  Well, that same somebody, you must have put your toes to their nose.”

I asked, “How did you nose that?”

She told me, “I was told that the nose can symbolize our sense of self wisdom.  But my scents definitely are not expensive.  There is no cents in that.”

I gave her my explanation, “One celestial nose had stared up at those snubs.  If only it were stars instead of stares, then at least he could take the stairs upward to the Aurora Borealis.”

That caused her to  poem to me:

 

“ Meteor flight, Meteor fight,

  The first war I die with fright;

  I miss my days, I fish at night,

  I hate the bliss you get from spite. “

 

               So, I said to her, “You think you are such a comet.  You think you just knocked three times on my space craft traveling towards celestial silicates.  You want that asteroids to just hit me twice and their remnants won’t glow.”

               Sis then replied, “With you it is always My Pronouns vs Your Anti-Nouns!  I just hope it is not something our Auntie Known.”

               I asked her, “Sis!  What do you think I am?”

               And she sung out:

 

                              “Garbage-Man, Garbage-Man

  You do whatever a Garbage Can

  You hold those bags, any size

  You think you catch bees, but they are just flies

 

  Stink out

  Here comes the Garbage Truck

  Is your smell that strong?

  Glistening me out of luck

  Your snot is a rapid detracting hood

  Can be sting from your head?

   Looks like a snook, oh such lead

 

   Beware

   where goes you, Garbage Man

   In the smell of your flight

   You’re what seems just like slime

    Like a freak with a blight

    You’re worth less than a dime

 

    Garbage Man

    Garbage Man

    We know you are here when we hear your Can Slam

    You’re full of such brags

    And speak such lies

    You think you have friends

    But they all are just flies

    Poop out

    There throws your Garbage Scams

    You’re just a Garbage Man.”

 

                                                            I hope you had some fun reading this                                                                                                            I hope I have some fun with you reading THESE

 

Going To The Space Where I Learn. Are You In?

 

Should  I be studying Astro-Physics or another Astrology Lie?  Is that teacher a Super Star or just a regular in this  Suburban Bar?  Can we get taught, not taunted or at least bought at this Bar?  If I was brought to this Bar. I could not drive home.  Speaking of Bars,  was she a Bare Nun?

That was when the bartender told me to keep it a secret.  Or did he say I should not secrete it?  He sure wants me to have a success, or was that just another suggestion for my secretions.  He said that it was my secret to run.  Or did he say that they all know I got the runs?

One time he told me that I am Charles.  Or was it that for me he could not Charge Less?  Maybe he told me I was Chair Less?  Or just that I am always Care Less?  Everyone else keeps telling me that I am a head of us.  I did not know that I really am  Hairless.  And not Harmless.  I sure can’t think less.  He said “You can’t stink less!”

All along the time, me and my buddies are shaking hands while the bartender is shaking drinks and the girls that walk by are shaking their heads.  I kept looking at what else they were shaking. 

Fred then asked me, “Did I just miss the last call?”

And I looked at the phone and asked Ed, “Was that a missed call?”

Ed looked at me and told me, “No!  What you heard was a fog horn!”

Then Fred asked, “So, Ed, how much did that frog earn?”

I said, “He really acts earnest.”

Ed then said, “At my job, it is like I must constantly Earn A Nation.”

I told Ed, “My Actions Speak Louder Than Your Words.”

And Ed replied, “You Adding Factions Freaks You Out with these Weirds.”

I then turned on my stool and told Frank, “All I want to learn about is The Solar System, The Moon, The Stars, The Planets.”

Frank said, “You don’t need to be Spaced Out anymore.”

Ed said, “He can’t be Spaced Out any less.”

I said, “How can I learn how to get to Pluto?  I need to think more than about Biology.  I need Chemistry.  I don’t want Geology. But I do want Geometry!  I want to be able to count!!  I want to be counted on!  I am the Count of Coma Sutra.  I want to learn Numerology!  Or do I need to be Numbing More Of Me?”

Frank asked, “Are you really wanting Mathematics or did you just say ‘Ma, Them Antics’?”

Ed answered, “He sure is Mad as a Hatter but I’m just Glad I’m a Hater.”

I commented, “You’re a Hater.  There’s a Hater.  All over there are Haters, Haters, Haters.  Man, this Home really wasn’t built in a day but we just roam around a bunch of silt in clay.”

Frank then said to Ed, “Are you going to Bury the Hatchet in my Neck?”

Ed replied, “It ain't over 'till it's over.”

Frank reacted, “I ain’t Orvile!  Spill it over.“

Ed, “Practice makes perfect.”

Frank, “Artifacts mase prefect.”

Ed, “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.”

Frank, “You jerks and all you say makes my Life without Joy.”

Ed, “Silence is golden.”

Frank, “Violence is Olden.”

Ed, “The squeaky wheel gets the grease.”

Frank, “You sneaky weasels cut the cheese.”

Ed, “You're never too old to learn.”

Frank, “You are never too smart to not burn.”

Ed, “What's good for the goose is good for the gander.”

Frank, “What you say is gross and you go on forever.”

Ed, “ One man's meat is another man's poison.”

Frank, “One man’s mate is another man’s prison.”

Ed, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

Frank, “Air scents make your farts go around more.”

I then said, ”Hey guys!  Calm yourselves Down!  I think you need Calmer Suture!

It’s always Gas Light, Gas Fight, yous are The First Gases I Smelt Tonight.  I wish I could have missed this Day.  I wish I missed your Fight.  You moan and hiss, I miss delight.”

               Ed then said, “Are you saying we Messed up soap pains in your gaul?”

               Frank agreed, “Gaulumetric or a galuga or even a beluga, you add up to the one we met during a trick.”

               The bartender then brought us a round and stated, “Tether around, boys.  Are those your Dentist’s shoes?”

               Ed answered, “ No, I thought they were your Tennis shoes.”

               I let them know, “No way!  Those are some Dennis’s shoes! “

               And then, all of the sudden Colonel Hoggin DeSpotlit told us, "We're lost, but were making good time."

And that caused a reaction by Kirkjadant Stink, "I know none of you were expecting this. I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to throw up a little sooner. Warp 5, Hoggin."

Colonel Hoggin DeSpotlit stated, "So much for the cute little girl there."

Colonel Hoggin DeSpotlit then said, "May I remind the captain that if a good looking woman enters this zone..."

Sergeant Had Schlitz interrupted, "I'm aware of my responsibilities, Mister."

The Demander then said, “This is Kirkadant Stink.  I am the one causing damage of the Star Stallage Thirteen.  Soused, I finally got here.  These are the rumpuses that are on the rise.  My five beer mission was to gulp strange new drinks.  To see life only as blurs.  To seek out free shots in weird situations.  To stumblingly go where no sober man had gone before.”

I then opened my eyes because I thought I heard a Barroom.  But it was just the Bar Broom.  I’m not even in the Barber Room.  Onto my head there keeps going, “Ba Boom!  Ba Boom!  Ba Boom!”  And I’m flying in the sky like a balloon.  Or am I frying as I die in this saloon?

 

                                                       I hope you had some fun with this                                                                                                                 I also hope you have some fun with THESE

 

              

 

How, Not Who, Do We Think We Are?

 

We just went through Valentines Day.  Why did we do it?  And I am not talking about the “Bug” Moran St. Valentines Day Massacre in the garage on 1929.  Someone just stated to me, “You should find yourself a Good Girl!”  And I am wondering, “What does that mean?  Am I looking for ‘Someone to Couple with?’  And should I be looking for a ‘her’?  Or are they saying that I am a man who should or does act like a woman? “

Am I surrounded by a bunch of people who think they are Super Heroes but are really Stupid Neros?  I think they are the ones that  sound like the Sopranos. And their music makes me sick. 

Where did any of this Earth’s life come from?!!  Molecule to Molecule?  Electrons falling into Protons?  Did the Neutrons build up the individual cell and eventually a group of cells and then a body of various groups of cells, and some sorts of Neutrons put skins around their built bubbles.  Bubbles of Life.  And most Earth’s Lifes are related.  Think about any other planet or comet or cosmos or gassed grouped radiations.  In so many ways Life can be Life but it doesn’t need to be, cannot be, is not the same.  Dust particles could fall in together.  Enough to brag that they are Life.  Magma can group with similar looking or feeling or heating Magmas and claim to be the Nations Under Ground.  Cosmic Radiation keeps grouping with other Cosmic Vibes.  We have got to Realize and Admit It Could Be.  We Can’t Know What Could Be!

I Am A Man.  But that mandibles when a horseshoe-shapes a bone that forms the lower jaw.  A man dribbling basketball.  How about the dripping urine after going to the bathroom which is common as men age. Men think they woo Women.  But isn’t it is really the Women wow men!  And Women also woe men.  Some Women also need to whoa men. 

It could be that at the cellular level, animals are not considered "male" or "female" as the sex designation is determined by the genetic makeup of each cell, meaning every cell in a male organism carries the male genetic code and vice versa for females; essentially, each cell has its own inherent sex identity based on its chromosomes, not a distinct "gender" as humans understand it.  

Some of us push the thought that while "sex" refers to the biological characteristics determined by chromosomes (like XX for female and XY for male), "gender" is a social construct that often involves cultural interpretations and identity. I wonder that, If we ever discover life on other planets, would that life not have biologically evolved from our life forms so the ways they reproduce or produce more of themselves would not necessarily follow our methods.

And, think about it.  Also, on our planet, Genders are entirely an animal thing. Plants - at least, most plants - do not have either sexes or genders. They are what is known as monoecious which means that one plant produces both micro- and macro- gametes. Those plants that do have separate male and female plants have sexes but do not have genders.

Is what we are trying to do, “Again or A Gain?”

Do we have any super heroes who are plants?  White Mercy, Floronic Man, Man Thing, Groot, Nature Girl, Mantis, Krakoa (and that is not east of Java), Rictor (and that don’t have a scale), Poison Ivy, and Swamp Thing.  Vervain, Garlic, and Wild Parsnips kill Vampires.  The plant most commonly associated with harming werewolves is Wolfsbane (also called Monkshood or Aconitum).

What do you think happens?  A Vampire traveling through space eats circulation from a different type of living creature because what is considered life, which is different based on the ruling chemistry and ruling power sources of the group of planets.  When they find me, I’m just a Green Skinned Frankenstein Monster.  To them I’m seen with Foot Long Feet.  And I’ve got Two Bolts along my neckline.  For Electricity!  Quit calling me “A Mummy Backed Camel”  I am really a “Camel Backed Haily.”

 

Some Bats

More Bats

And Bats

Those Bats

When They Bite Me For More.

Do you hear that bell ring?

There are Bats in my belfry.

 

Why should I want you guys to sing “Spider Man, Spider Man, Does whatever a Spider can” when you claim I am Spider Man and  with those real spiders, the female eats the male spider after she starts building children spiders?  I don’t want to die.

It’s not just spiders.  Look at those Bee Hives!  They have a Queen Bee!   Not any King Bees!  Look at all those Worker Bees.  They are all Girls!  The only Males are those few Drones!  Once the Queen Bee uses them, they are removed. I don’t want to be considered just a Drone.

There is a similar thing, common with Ants.  And these Ants might be your Aunts.  Not your Uncle, under her Knuckle.  Male ants are also called Drones!  Sure, we look up to, brag about, and want more Drones now!  But that is just so these rich business owners make more money off of us without them having to do any work for it.  Anyway, male ants have wings and are fertile to mate with the queen.  Male ants are much smaller than females and have longer antennae. The males only emerge from the colony for one day in order to mate.  They usually die a few days after they mate.

We’ve got to Stand Our Ground!  Earthworms are hermaphrodites, meaning they have both male and female reproductive organs.  They turn about from their front to their back and make babies with each other.

I am not called ‘Hero.’   That is supposed to be a genial, encouraging Worm Man who secretly supplied the first Wards team with video games and movies so that they could have an enjoyable pastime between their work as heroes and after school.  But Worms are not just Men.  They, are, have been, and will always be both.

Like that M.A.N.T.I.S. superhero.   Female mantises are usually larger and heavier than males. Male mantises are usually smaller and thinner than females. Female praying mantises sometime eat their male mates during or after mating.

When you want to Jump around, think about some grasshopper species.  Females may eat the male after or during mating.   The Grasshopper was a thief who met a somewhat crooked entymologist who gave him a serum made of the leg muscles of grasshoppers.

When you claim that You Light Up Your Life, well those Female fireflies of the genus Photuris lure and eat male fireflies of the genus Photinus. These female fireflies are known as "femmes fatales".   Firefly began as a criminal who played with lighting and visual effects to successfully pull off robberies, but in the dark reimagining he became a sociopathic, core member of Batman’s rogues gallery, though not nearly as popular as the other Gotham City villains.

Our Hero, Firefly, wears a fireproof battle suit and is always equipped with a flamethrower, incendiary ammunition, and explosive agents. He compulsively sets fires, and once burned himself in a chemical explosion before having developed his protective costume. Lynns also uses a jetpack for high-speed flight and quick getaways.

 I’ve got to tell him, “Don’t Flash by me, It is the Green Land’s Turn.”

Life!  Life!  Life!  Look over there! That is the Testosterone Terrorist Turantula who is Terre Firma. I am a fighter, not a flighter.  Am I fighting against him or with him?  You sure are not fighting with Tim!  But I don’t know if you are fighting Him!

Sadly, Joe, I feel that your skills do not need our matching skills and definitely not your matches or your mattress and definitely not any of your kills.

Did someone say that I am a Hero or a He Rogue?

I think you just want to Elect Trick Lights.

Am I going to be Fossilized or are these all Life’s Fossil Lies?

                                                 I hope you got something                                                                                                                               Out of reading this                                                                                                                                          I hope you read                                                                                                                                               Some of THESE