Words Of Wizdim

"Let no man wear a hat of cheap cloth lest he run down by a carriage and and the undertaker think him a scoundrel."

William Shakespeare

"If you don't get off my dog you will be refused service at the bar."


WB Yeats


"The only thing worse than a stone in your shoe is a slightly larger stone in the same shoe."


Oscar Wilde


"If ya can't find your bloody cummerbund then I would suggest you come back tomorrow when the butler takes out the bins" 


Sir Francis Bacon

Poetry Bro

A Douche Bag's Prayer

Brody sought enlightenment

Beneath the stars of June

Endowed with his entitlement

A spanner and a spoon

Oh Lord! he cried

With eyes shut tight

Give me mine,

And shine a light!

Upon my head,

Bestow me might!

Crowed the silly Loon

fin

Resolutions in C minor

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The False Horoscope In A White Wine Sauce

The Walleye: (January 2 to January 4)--Take stock of your life and find out who wants you dead. Your lucky chair smells faintly of failure. Keep away from apes.

Sheep's Easter: (January 5 to May 16)--Someone you trust is looking for the words to describe how they feel about your white denim suit. A hole dug is a hole earned. Check behind the drapes for your youth.

Parental Lies: (Late May to June 2)--Keep a block of fine spruce and a pen knife near you at all times, for the inevitable day when your internet dating failures finally drive you to whittle yourself a wife.

The Fop's Belt: (June 3 to June 4, 3:27pm)--It is finally time to throw out that old man in your bed. Your lucky number is written of the inner thigh of the gypsy you saw urinating in a public fountain during the cabbage riots of '07.

Dave: (June 4, 3:28pm to September 19 {excluding all of July and August 6})--It is never too late to tell someone you think that they are the sorriest sack of shit you ever laid eyes upon. Time to buy a new dog, the old one is dead. Adding some fiber to your diet will somehow make you even less interesting.

The Bladders: (All of July)--Someone you love is bending deeply at the knees for all the wrong reasons. At some point a comb over becomes less of an ingenious facade, and more a burdensome object of ridicule. Explosions are to be avoided for three weeks.

Simple Salad: (August 6)--Hug a stranger and run away. Take time out of your day to stop and smell the mailman. Picking it won't make it better, but it might get you a day off.

Dented Bean Tin: (September 20 to Elvis 17)--Save a choking man and win a dapper waist coat. You will be followed home from the tanning salon by a man in a rented suit. Your poor sense of direction will lead to a loveless marriage. Your lucky symbol for the week is the one leaf clover.

Chef's Palsy: (Elvis 18 to September 30)--Avoid having children if you still eat over the sink. Your noisy love making is upsetting the waiter. Your lucky towel is on the top shelf.

Vulgar Limp: (Oct 1 to Dec 24)--If you are feeling unloved in the morning, eat two pounds of American cheese and later think back on how much better you felt in the morning before you ate all that shitty cheese.

The Chubby Waitress: (Dec 25)--Your mother is a virgin and your father is a gullible fool. Your personality can be best described as "eggy". Try not to be in the way when the rapture comes.

Soft Eggs: (Dec 26 to Jan 1)--Bitter defeat awaits your attempt to clean your feet. Any hope of improving your breakfast nook is almost as hopeless as it is laughable. Stay funky.

Right up Your Culture

Here at The Endless Ocean Of Gravy we always strive to bring to you the finest in political, spiritual, social, and intellectual musings, perusings, and sundry goings on. In that vein we are proud to present an excerpt from the latest work of an exciting new playwright. Gavin Montserrat (right) has provided us a sneak peek of his latest play Waiting For Bill Paxton, due to premier at the Ronald Reagan Memorial Theater & Refugee Detention Center on Christmas Day, 2009. An except from Act 4 Scene 22 follows, in which Pancho attempts to reveal his indiscretions to Phaedra before their wedding.

WAITING FOR BILL PAXTON

Act IV, Scene XXII

(Interior: A roomy shed illuminated by a bare bulb. Walls of corrugated sheet metal. Soiled mattresses, empty picture frames, and old crutches stacked against rear wall. Two Louis XXIII chairs facing downstage. Pancho, stage left, standing behind chair, wearing a green boiler suit, water skis, neck beard, ten gallon hat, and holding a stuffed goose. Phaedra, stage right, sitting, wearing wedding dress, eye patch, back brace, neck brace, thick glasses, hearing aid, built up shoe, and holding bag of polecats. Exterior noises off stage: Classical music, soldiers marching, gunfire, police siren, braying pack animal, intermittent explosions, clown horns, dogs barking, seagulls, pipe organ, pan flute, wood chipper, tap dancing, yodeling cowboy, alpenhorn, kettle boiling, prolonged farting, and intermittent shouts of Waaaaaaaazuuuuuuuuuuup!!!!!)

Pancho: (stood erect, knees slightly bent, feet wide apart) My dearest Phaedra you must wonder why I have pulled you aside mere moments from our nuptials. Know that I did not act rashly when I pulled you from your father's hand as he presented you to the congregation. He must be mystified at my actions that caused his youngest daughter to be spirited away prematurely while he is shoved into the trout pond where he no doubt wallows still.

(Noises Off: shotgun discharged [both barrels] squawking water fowl, applause)

Phaedra: (shouting, squinting at empty spot on stage)What? Why'd you biff my dad into the pond? He's got croup and a cracked sternum.

Pancho: Damn my poor timing to the seven halls of Lucifer! I could not wait a moment longer to say what I have to say. I could not stand before God and take vows without you knowing the full truth.

(Noises Off: mariachi music, fist fight)

Phaedra: (shouting off stage) Shut the feck up! We'll be out in a sec.

(Noises Off: loud protracted "shooshing" snapping mariachi guitar strings, fist fight)

Pancho: Please my dear. Worry not about the guests or your father. I'm sure they have pulled him out by now. I'm must implore you, please listen to what I have to say.

Phaedra: Well if you are going to tell me why you took my old dad by the collar and cummerbund and heaved him over the railing into the frigid waters below you had better hurry up. Those deviled eggs won't keep for long in this heat.

(Noises Off: donkey slipping in spilled butter, glass breaking, turnip hitting skull, applause)

Pancho: (bending deeper at the knees, arms askew) Oh forget the fool for now. The longer he is out of reach of the Drambuie the better for all.

Phaedra: Well out with it then ya big wally. These smoked oysters are starting to waft.

Pancho: I have been unfaithful.

(Noises Off: extended "Ricolaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa" followed by long sonorous fart, applause)

Phaedra: Is this about the maid?

Pancho: No.

Phaedra: My sister?

Pancho: NO!

Phaedra: My Brother?

Pancho: Um......................No.

Phaedra: That hoor who you paid to do a shit on you?

Pancho: Not as such.

Phaedra: You sneaking out at night and sticking your tackle into holes in the lawn again?

Pancho: You know very well that my people believe that pressing one's gonads into the soft earth will help one commune with nature and assist in the quickening of the soil. It is our way.

Phaedra: You're from New Jersey.

Pancho: Nevertheless.

Phaedra: What have you done this time then?

(Noises Off: two explosions, man falling over pile of plastic buckets, fog horn, cymbals crash)

Pancho: (drowned out by noises off, making dramatic hand gestures)

Phaedra: (shouting, squinting)What?!?!

(Noises Off: brass band, train whistle, screaming)

Pancho: (drowned out by noises off, making dramatic hand gestures, deep knee bends and pelvic thrusts)

curtain lowers

Scene

One Man, One Purchase

This is Floyd Purchase writing for you now. When I say, writing for you now, I am of course typing some time in the past (depending on when you read this) and you, as the reader are not being placed under any obligations, or are in any way indebted to me by my act of doing this for you. For the sake of journalistic accuracy let us agree on the following statement of fact. What you are now reading was produced by me (Floyd Purchase) with the intention of you reading it of your own free will with the understanding that it places no encumbrance on you. Enjoy!

At the request of Mr Fish I will, from time to time, take a break from my busy schedule as a mobile librarian to contribute to this space with my ruminations on matters of the heart and technology. These are the areas of my life to which I give over the most thought and energy, with varying degrees of success. Some find the act of intimate congress to be an impenetrable embuggerance, while having no difficulty grinding to level 80 with a Blood Elf on a PVP server. Naturally there are others who need to call the help desk if someone turns their keyboard upside down but still manage to somehow woo the red headed girl in customer service who would clearly be far more stimulated by a man of greater cerebral capacity. She must know that narrow trousers and an easy manner will not long cover up a shameful pig-ignorance of information technology.

It is indeed lonely at the top of the "brain chain" at times. A finely tuned intellect can be intimidating at times, even when I am perfectly willing to correct any mild factual omissions at any time. I am certainly not a fussy man but I would not waste my time with someone who did not appreciate Watchmen at the highest possible level, at least not very often. When one finally meets someone who truly appreciates mad spreadsheet skills, then the gushing fountain of love will be that much sweeter and more everlasting..........I've forgotten what point I was making.

Until next week friends and ladies. This is your very humble and single, Floyd Purchase.

Angus Thripshaw's Ditch

Just when you thought is was safe to read a piss poor excuse for a blog, here comes your old pal Angus to spice up the bisque. Some of the less discerning of you will no doubt remember me from here. Maybe it's the horse liniment I drank for lunch, but I feel all tingly being back after all this time. To those of you new to the Green idiot's tiny circle of readers, let me introduce myself. I am Angus Thripshaw and I am a contributor to The Endless Ocean Of Gravy. I am the only reason to come here and I am the sweet living shit. So cuddle up children. Angus is back! Where have I been? Well let me fuckin' tell ya.

Angus Thripshaw's Ditch

Presents

in association with the endless ocean of gravy

Thripshaw's Doings

• I was living with Green Fish for a few months until I was able to get a certain business venture off the ground, or until he could pin me in a best of three challenge. He pulled a fast one on me by putting sleeping pills in my Thompson's Wood Stain and moving away.

• Left to my own devices I decided to find lodgings and pursue my business venture with a renewed passion. As luck would have it I secured shelter in a drainage ditch on the outskirts of a condemned industrial plaza.

• I secured financing for my business by strolling "mother naked" into large grocery stores and being paid to go away before the fruit spoiled.

• With capital secured I opened up a roadside consulting firm specializing in executive entertainment solutions and seminars. I planned to specialize in up market firms with a large female clientele who would be enamored with my determined, workman-like, love making skills, in the prescribed Soviet style. I felt that this, complimented with home made Vodka, would be a market leader in executive solutions.

• My first day went well, except that I set up my stand to close to the highway, and a wide-load transport trailer clipped my turkey costume and threw me, my stand, and my home made vodka dispenser across the freeway and under the viaduct. I was relatively uninjured until a pack of feral dogs, emboldened by the stench of blood and rotting potato peelings, set about me with a vigor.

• I spent the next eighteen months convalescing under that viaduct, living on home made vodka and feral dog tar tar, and maintaining my network of clients by shouting obscenities at passing cars.

• I finally taught myself to walk again after discovering that both my feet were in fact wedged into one shoe.

• I then wrote for the Toronto Sun for six months until this became just too much of a strain on my dignity. That lead me to reopen negations with Mr Fish (follow him home from work) and secure a staff writing position (he still forgets to lock the door).

So that's all for now kids. I'm going to be on my merry way before the big fool wakes up. Right after I have a wash in the sink and a crap in the tub. Bye now, Fuckers!!!

Community Bulletin Thingy

The West Turmeric Wrangler

Vol. 9 Issue 47

Mrs Althea Trapes would like to thank the gentlemen of Plumbers Local 314 for giving her organ a good pounding out before the children's choir recital last Tuesday. The vandals who dented her wind system and flattened her expression peddle out of recognition have still not been identified. She says she will be buffing the pipes of the fine men of Local 314 for some time to come.

****In a correction from last week's issue (46), Dr Robert Culter, 46, is the Chief administrator for the Lower Fourth Parks Project, and not, as reported by Audrey Wong, a fat sack of pompadoured horse shit.

Harlen Waxman, 32, is looking to rent a room and workspace within the city limits for the purpose of launching an exciting new business venture. He requires a small windowless room with a low bed, two stainless steel sinks, a dentist's chair, weather sealed windows, and heavy mosquito netting. In leu of rent Mr Waxman will finance his accommodations with yard work, small engine repair, honey, and tales of seamanship from his days as a showgirl aboard the QE2.

Dapp Heldersmith, 66, is collecting signatures for a petition to take legal action against the City Council for damaged and lost property in the wake of last month's Retired Sailor's Convention. Mr. Heldersmith is also offering a reward of $50.00 for the return of two garden gnomes, a hammock, and Mrs. Heldersmith, 64.

In local sports, the West Turmeric Sack Bladders (Go Bladders!!!) avoided relegation to the ladies division last Wednesday by winning the 103rd Annual Red Cup And Cape tournament when none of the other teams showed up.

Elvis LeCruz, 31, will be giving the sixth installment of his very popular lecture series, "Why I Am So Fucking Extreme. BOOYA!!!" This week's talk (Bros before Hoes) will cover such topics as, tribal tattoos, Affliction clothing, pre-distressed denim, fist bumping, late '90s BET slang, Bud Lite, tanning, man flip-flops, little beards and the gradual acceptance of using the word "disrespect" as a verb.

****In a correction from last week's issue, Mr Kevin Flatt, 88, is alive and well and not, as reported by Mrs Candi Flatt, 22, dead and buried. The party however, will go ahead as planned.

Found: Two jam stained garden gnomes, under the overpass at Bridge Street

The Ugly Side of Procrastination

To my eternal shame it has come to pass that I have not exactly been burning up the blogosphere lately. I know my seven loyal readers must be wondering what the hell is going on. Well I have several very good excuses, and I shall list them here for you now in my own inimitable way.

THE ENDLESS OCEAN OF GRAVY PRESENTS

"WHY THE HELL I HAVE NOT BEEN WRITING MUCH LATELY"

(ALL TRUE)

I had an accident with a bowl of soup (lentil & watercress) that caused sever scalding to over 95% of a bus driver.

I got stuck in a revolving door with a rabbi, a priest, and a newfie and they would not stop regaling me with tales of their wacky adventures.

I found a lump. It's on the back of the toilet about halfway up the cistern, and I'm terrified to scrape it off in case it starts screaming.

Although I have no injuries I have begun wearing a neck brace, an eye patch, a truss, a hook, a diaper, and a built up shoe, just so I can enjoy the respect that goes with such extravagances.

I was taken under the care of a specialist with what I thought was an hysterical pregnancy, but it turned out to be a dream.

My two legs developed a condition unique to me which is called, Uncontrollable Runnin' Around Like A Jackass Syndrome.

My home made gin caused blindness.

Inexplicably, my home made blindness cure (gin & Tia Maria) does not, in fact, cure blindness. It makes it worse. By adding painful diarrhea to the blindness.

My home made Creme de Menthe does in fact cure home made gin induced blindness, and although it tends to intensify the diarrhea, it does put it in perspective.

My beard of bees has caused some unforeseeable complications with my love life.

My computer has started to smell faintly of eggs.

I have been training a monkey to wash the dishes, make wine, paint and genuflect.

I have been severely bitten by a knife wielding, drunk, bright green, genuflecting monkey.

I was arrested in the middle of the night at the lumber yard while trying to feed a bright green, frozen, monkey corpse into a wood chipper.

~fin~

The False Horoscope (not the real one)

The Walleye: (January 2 to January 4)--Avoid eating poison and being robbed today. It is time for that nuisance lawsuit you've always talked about. Those lucky rocks you've been collecting don't do shit, try getting a lucky job.

Sheep's Easter: (January 5 to May 16)--Your cat does not like your tie. Eggs will not do you harm for the rest of the month. A kind word to an elderly man will not do either of you any good.

Parental Lies: (Late May to June 2)--Very few people can tolerate the volume of your night terrors. You will buy a lottery ticket today from a man suffering from pica.

The Fop's Belt: (June 3 to June 4, 3:27pm)--The old trunk in which you found your father's dresses has a false bottom in which are hidden his letters from Larry King. Of all the hats in the shop to choose from, you will be drawn to the one that makes you look even balder.

Dave: (June 4, 3:28pm to September 19 {excluding all of July and August 6})--No one saw you steal the hammer but people are curious about the blood on your cummerbund. What you assumed was furniture polish is in fact a sexual ointment.

The Bladders: (All of July)--Wedding bells are evident if you go to a bell maker and ask. Two people whom you know well are planning your well deserved comeuppance. Avoid impulse coat purchases while in the company of partially sighted.

Simple Salad: (August 6)--Take some time to love yourself today and then put it on the internet. Try making tacos without embarrassing your loved ones. Flip a coin to decide between pancakes or procreation.

Dented Bean Tin: (September 20 to Elvis 17)--A public bathroom is not a picnic area despite the obvious conveniences. If it ain't broke, take it while no one is looking. Your legs are not lucky so stop asking co-workers to rub them.

Chef's Palsy: (Elvis 18 to September 30)--Don't buy a pet that you would not be prepared to eat in an emergency. Today is as good as any other to hire a prostitute. Make a prank phone call from an up market coffee shop while clad only in a false beard.

Vulgar Limp: (Oct 1 to Dec 24)--Let your hair down and untie the mailman. Television is ready for you to unleash "Who Wants To Marry A Singing Hobo". Your dry heaves could be the excuse you are looking for. Avoid water and staggering today.

The Chubby Waitress: (Dec 25)--Avoid family situations. Opening packages that do not have the contents clearly written on the top will result in injury and toe loss. Your buttocks has no powers beyond the mundane despite what your boss it telling you.

Soft Eggs: (Dec 26 to Jan 1)--Bitter defeat awaits your attempt to organize your sock drawer. Abject failure will be the only result of any attempt to get ahold of yourself. Any hope of improving your situation is almost as hopeless as it is laughable. Stay upbeat.