And Misspell Should Be Spelled "Mispell"

Ate a pancake this morning. Do you think "Iraq" is misspelled? I think it ought to be spelled Eee'rahck, but I can't seem to coerce anyone into caring. I just wish we had some discernable priorities regarding countries that force us to misspell their names. Seychelles, for instance. Also Maldives. Also some other places I can't remember right now. I'm on my way to the kitchen to prepare a sandwich.

Recent Postcards from Larry Basket

I've been exchanging some postcards with my friend Basket, who is visiting Tasmania. I'm not going to include my replies, but for those of you who worry about Basket, here is what he has to say:

Postcard from Basket 1: "You may as well know, I have four new parakeets now. The sea is beautiful," he wrote.

Postcard from Basket 2: "You've never taken a fancy to parakeets, have you? Terrible cuisine here, by the way."

Postcard from Basket 3: "You really ought to give my parakeets a chance. You might find that you like them. You might expand your horizons a bit," he wrote. "Been getting 10, 12 hours of sleep per night."

Postcard from Basket 4: "I am growing suspicious of the horses here. The gleam in their eye chills me to the marrow. Do you think they could be centaurs? Somebody stole my good hat."

Postcard from Basket 5: "I found a charming souvenir briefcase full of briefcases, each briefcase slightly smaller than the briefcase surrounding it. Like those Russian dolls. The smallest briefcase had in it a folded piece of bubble wrap. Wish you were here."

At any rate, that's the last I heard from Basket.

I Found a Website on the Internets

I just found a website called cheese dot com. This website primarily concerns cheese. I'm only mentioning this because I like cheese; I'm not going to link to cheese dot com because I don't really want others to look at it unless they are serious about cheese.

Gospel of Judas

I don't understand all this commotion about the Gospel of Judas. I translated it years ago. Boring. Scarcely worth the effort. Judas mentions Jesus only once, in passing, and the rest is ordinary diary drivel. Some excerpts:

Why do all my black garments fade to different shades of black? My black trousers faded blue-black, my black turtleneck is violet-black, and my black hoodie is green-black with black-black trim. Dorcus claims that no one will notice these shade irregularities, but she's the one who pointed them out to me in the first place. What, so I should never wash my black clothes? This sort of thing really gets on my tits. (Judas 3:1-4)

Dorcas thinks she's a good lyre player, but she's not. She knows, like, two chords, and they're both wrong. Somebody save me. I think I'm going to have another piece of carrot cake before it dries out. (Judas 4:2-3, 5)

Just got home from running errands. Traffic was horrible. Saw Jesus at Crate and Barrel. He did that thing where he pretends to not see me, but I KNOW he saw me. How could you not notice me? I'm the only man in town with natural strawberry-blonde hair. (Judas 23:1-3)

I can't find my tiki-style sake cup set. Dorcus insists that she didn't throw it out with the nasty old Tupperware last week. Please. I wasn't born yesterday. She's wanted me to get rid of that set ever since we got married. Didn't throw it out, my ass. (Judas 16)

Dorcus's sisters are over, ostensibly to discuss the kitchen remodel, but all I'm hearing is "wah wah, gaining weight, wah wah daughter smokes marajuana, wah wah wah that's not what I heard..." Kill me now. (Judas 19:8)

I was tidying my scrolls just now when I had a great idea: why not surprise Dorcus with a new scroll? She's already read all these ones, and I know she'd like something to peruse while Matthias is at his karate lesson. (Judas 20:4-6)

It goes on like this for four volumes.

*sigh*

Oh, why did I take Coptic in high school? I should have taken something useful, like French. Then I could have translated something important, like the short stories of Gerard Depardieu.

Attention!

I've been profiled by Norman Geras. You may have seen him recently - he's the fellow you always find loitering at the train station, peeling open melty chocolate bars and casually attaching the wrappers to passersby.

UPDATE: Oops. How embarrassing. Turns out the guy at the train station is Gorman Neras, unemployed piano tuner and no relation to Norman Geras. My mistake.

UPDATE UPDATE: Turns out Gorman Neras isn't unemployed. He tunes pianos regularly, and is paid handsomely. And his name isn't Gorman Neras; it is John Robinson.

UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE: Turns out my ergotism-related hallucations are back. Not only is John Robinson not Gorman Neras, he doesn't eat chocolate bars and he wants me to stop harrassing him with questions. I don't even know if I have a Normblog profile anymore.

8 Sequential Auditory Signals Indicating that Rafe Has Fallen out of Bed Again and Has Opted to Sleep on the Floor for the Remainder of the Night

1. The Thump
2. The Cry
3. The Sniffle and Cough
4. The Scrape Across Floor
5. The Impassioned Sigh
6. The Cussing
7. The Silent Fury
8. The Tranquil Hush
9. The Snore

Today's Fortune as Told to EWP by Beautiful Doll

"Beautiful doll makes delightful friend. Eat carrots every day for health. See physician for moles that change in appearance or texture."

What the Financial Times Doesn't Want You to Know

Mild Profit-Taking
"Japanese real estate stocks extended gains into the eighth straight day on Tuesday morning, making up for mild profit-taking in some other sectors in the wake of Monday’s sharp rise. By midday the Nikkei was up 0.3 per cent to 17,384.53," claims the Financial Times. Boring. What the fat cats in Tokyo don't want you to know is that all of these "other sectors" experiencing so-called "mild profit-taking" are secretly financing the design, manufacture, and distribution of the first animate human children made entirely of prosciutto and faux fur. The manufacture and sale of these "Quasi-Nutria Meat Moppets" and "Woolly Stink Cherubs" is legal in most countries, with the exception of Belarus, which has frequently expressed concern over the manufacture (though not the sale) of meat-based concept children.

Prices Jumped to Their Highest Level
"Crude oil prices jumped to their highest level since Hurricane Katrina on Monday... as Iran announced it had tested new weapons during war games in the Strait of Hormuz," claims the Financial Times. Whatever. I heard it wasn't Iran. I heard it was that that little old couple, Sylvia and Sidney Schumacher. Why, just this morning I was having breakfast at the lodge when I overheard a girl they called "Baby" say, "Wait a minute. I know Iran didn't test new weapons in the Strait of Hormuz. I know because Iran was in his room all night. And the reason I know is... because I was with him." Then Baby was all, "Daddy, I'm sorry I lied to you, but you lied to me too," and for crying out loud, that was the last straw. I left without finishing my Frosted Flakes.

Securing a Cash Inflow
"GM agreed to sell a controlling stake in its finance arm to an investment consortium led by Cerberus Capital on Monday for $7.4bn, securing the troubled carmaker a cash inflow of $14bn over the next three years," claims the Financial Times. But that's not all GM has sold. Woo-hoo! I showed up at their estate sale with a five dollar bill and I left with two Nancy Sinatra albums, some photos of Yosemite and a newish bucket full of shrink-wrapped sponges. I thought I saw some old Radio-Electronics magazines and a briefcase full of socks, so I plan on going back tomorrow for the $1 bag sale.

Everything's Ever So Slightly Gone to Seed

Turned forward the clocks the other day. It was a tedious process, clock after clock after endless clock. Yesterday at this time it was a different time, slightly later, and also a day earlier. It was a different world. In fact, it was similar to TVs "A Different World," but without Denise Huxtable chilling us to the marrow with her relentless, unprovoked dancing. It was like, yesterday there was no Denise, today there's slightly some Denise, but one hour later. All attributable to this purported time change, with the endless clocks and the turning. Profound, isn't it - with the clocks, changing with the wind. A thing of beauty. Life cycle. Cosbys.