I am Rolled Through a Pasta Machine

I remained shackled to the “recliner” in Lady M’s living room for the better part of the afternoon, a small “tee-vee tray” parked in front of me. I was forced to nourish myself with only a Morey Amsterdam sandwich, cheese tray, chocolate cake, mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, a vegetable plate and tea for lunch. (See photo - notice how thin I have become!)

Presently, I was distracted from my repast by the arrival of Mr. Johnny Sixguns or “J6G” as he had most recently begun referring to himself. Johnny Sixguns was in his usual disagreeable mood but was caught up in some type of self-examination which consumed his entire attention.

“Sixguns .. Sixguns .. Johnny SIXGUNS” Lady M repeated, “I need you in the kitchen, I think I’ve tracked down the spatial-temporal coordinates of the Ur-Gin in China … Oh good grief, is that a bacon necklace you’re wearing?”

I groaned, as I am not a fan of the food of the chinaman; and bacon, though delicious, gives me wind.

Sixguns interrupted, “Isn’t the Arabic word for ‘lamb’ the same as the Persian word for ‘lamb”

Of course, the Persian (pronounced “Per-zee-an) vocabulary is quite different from Arabic even though both are spoken widely in jolly old arab land. Additionally, Persian is spoken with a refined British accent where as Arabic is not. (Having taken A levels in classical history at Cambridge, I was aware of this critical piece of knowledge that neither of these two Yankees could hope to know.)

Lady M responded derisively as only she could “How in Hades should I know? Now, I need you to pay close attention.”

By now Mr. Sixguns had returned to his previous activity and announced that he had ‘a bat in the cave’ - whatever that meant. I strongly suspected it was another one of Sixgun’s foul habits.

Indeed, I was about to find out as Sixguns strode out of the kitchen and began menacing me with the product of his industry, the proverbial “bat” from the “cave.”

“Heh, heh” chortled Sixguns, threatening me with his filthy index finger, “How ‘bout I stick this one on you, Woodpecker-Snot!”

“First of all my name is not “Snot” its Woodpecker- SMYTHE and I’m certain Lady Marzipan will not let you get away with this!” I announced loudly, hoping to draw my host’s attention.

Again, I cried out for help, “Lady Marzipan, help, this rogue is about to besmirch my fine traveling jacket with some nasty bit of goo.”

As luck would have it Sixguns tripped over a rather large cable between the kitchen and my recliner. As he did so I heard a familiar sound, the spinning down of a pot lid as the power to the Q-Device was interrupted in mid-stream.

The scene of the living room oscillated in and out of focus about me. I felt the familiar queasiness as if my body was being extruded through a high quality Italian pasta maker.

I knew it was a bad idea to connect the Q-Device to that flimsy extension cord!

General Tang's Chicken

General Wango Tang, Commander of the People's Liberation Army's 41st Army Group had his court of yes men and lickspitles roaring with laughter as he told a series of quips and witticisms.

Members of people's delegation from Hunan province come to see Chairman Mao, they come, they talk to Mao, and then they go, heading off down the corridors of Forbidden Palace. Chairman Mao starts looking for smoking pipe. He can't find. He calls in Deng Xiaoping, the dreaded head of his secret police. "Go after delegation, and find out which one took my pipe," he say. Deng scuttles off down corridor. Five minute later Mao find pipe under pile of papers. He calls Deng—"Look, I've found my pipe." "It's too late," Deng says, "half the delegation admitted they took your pipe, and the other half died during questioning."

With that the assembled group of lackeys roared with laughter except for two people sitting to his side. One, an obviously bored Englishwoman in a red silk dress holding an extremely long cigarette holder with an unlit cigarette; the other an elaborately foppishly dressed English gentleman was too engrossed in his copy of Voltaire to notice what was happening around him.

BBC America Presents: Britain's Worst Teeth

Premieres June 15th at 10pm et/pt. Part of BBC America Reveals.

Every Sunday night at 10pm for the next 14 years, BBC America presents a 728 part series of all-new documentaries that take an in-depth, honest, and often surprising look at the state of dental hygene in the UK. Britain’s Worst Teeth follows four twenty-somethings with some of the worst teeth in Britain, and that's saying something. Their teeth are so bad they affect every aspect of their miserable little lives. They are in pain and are embarrassed to go out to the pub more than 7 or 8 times a week. They find eating fish and chips and speaking about how they hate America difficult, and not surprisingly, they find it difficult to attract partners anywhere other than Lambeth or Margate. There is an epidemic of poor teeth in Britain. 17 in 18 people never visit the dentist. 7 in 10 is terrified of the dentist chair. Sugar consumption, eating disorders, and bad diet make Britain’s global reputation for being a nation of terrible teeth completely justified. All might not be lost. Britain's three dentists have agreed to take on these four cases and see if they can do anything to save their terrible teeth.

ZZ Top Tribute Band to Play for Central Committee

The ZZ Top Tribute Band "Sharp Dressed Men" will play at the gala openning of the plenary session of the Central Committee. Sharp Dressed Men is a hot ensemble that recreates the Texas boogie and hard rockin blues sound of that phenomenally popular band from Texas USA - ZZ Top. To make the show complete, they include the funny proletarian antics of Billy and Dusty, and the famous in-concert moves that make seeing the Rock and Roll legends so memorable. That means that you will see a great show anytime you see Sharp Dressed Men. The group are also all long time communist party members and are very active with local party activities.

Opening for the group is the Los Lobos tribute band "The Bamba."

Strengthen the union of the army and the people, be ready to annihilate aggressors at any time

The following article is reprinted from the June 2, 1966 edition of the Guangdong Red Guard Student's Daily:



Two imperialistic oppressor spies were apprehended in southern Guangdong province, after mysteriously appearing in flash of light in middle of crowded auditorium during Red Guards lecture entitled "Sloganeering: Which slogans best represent our feelings towards Chairman Mao."

Upon appearing, the man and woman looked about in confusion, as did most audience members. The woman then began shouting unintelligently in English. Her words were later translated as instructions to Counter-Revolutionary elements that were apparently in attendence at lecture. As precaution, entire audience has been detained for re-education. This is important example of need for eternal vigilance. The enemy lurks even in midst of our beloved Red Guards, apparently.

While the woman was issuing her Counter-Revolutionary instructions, the male, who was evidently taught Chinese in his spy school, began asking the crowd if they knew where the Guangdong British Bingo Society was, as he had a 3:30 appointment with Rear Admiral Sir Dudley Compton, and then started crying "Oh God, I need a drink."

They were both led away to 41st Army Group Headquarters for interrogation.

The most surprising Red Wings fan ever

Guess who comes from Detroit and happens to have a Chris Chelios Jersey in his closet?

this guy

HURRAY FOR THE RED WINGS!!!!!!!!

You may return to the blog now

A Little Touch of Scaramanga in the Night

Chapter 5: Escape from an un-Peasant Purgatory

Captain Stuart Turnips walked out into the courtyard which was lined with what he thought might be Metasequoia glyptostroboides or maybe Cryptomeria japonica. The metasequoia, or Dawn Redwoods, he knew to be local to southern China. The Cyptomeria seemed to have journeyed fairly far south from their native Japan. Perhaps some industrious Japanese officer had them planted on Tunga Island he mused.

In either case the local flora was not the most significant thing to behold. In the courtyard were several dozen oriental gentlemen wearing a kind of white pajama. They were all practicing ka-rate moves like the ones he learned about in the book he had borrowed from the Shelby Municipal library. "Holy late fees!" he thought to himself. The prospect of having to pay the lost book charge to Old lady McGillicuddy was not one that enthused. That book was surely lost to the sea or to the CHICOM Navy along with the Blue Side of American. Just as he was thinking this he heard a voice behind him.

"You probably should send this back to the library by mail to avoid the late fees"

Captain Stuart turned and there was a striking gentleman in casual resort wear (blue silk short-sleeve shirt, white linen slacks, rattan slippers). This man must surely be Scaramanga, whom his father Lord Turnips had sent him to kill or capture for Her Majesty's Government in order to pay off a gambling debt to Princess Margaret. In his hands he held the book on Ka-rate that he had brought on the journey.

Captain Stuart remained as cool as he could under the circumstances. "Scaramanga, I presume?"


"You presume correctly, lad" Scaramanga said in an almost glass cut Oxford/BBC accent. "I suppose you are wondering why I had you brought here and didn't have you fileted or left you to the tender mercies of our dear friends the Chinese."



"Naturally, the thought had crossed my mind."

Scaramanga smiled and motioned for him to join him as he walked into a covered courtyard. Not able to think of any other option, Stuart obliged.

As they walked into the covered courtyard the same white pajama-clad figures he had seen outside in the tree-lined patio were engaged, not in ka-rate moves but in a series of fine-art endeavors. Here Stuart saw a group engaged in painting water color pictures of John Wayne. There Stuart saw a group discussing the finer parts of the latest motion pictures. Next to that he saw a group engaged in a discussion on poetry.



Stuart glance at the paintings. Some were pretty decent. One in particular captured John Wayne's stirring western cowboy visage nicely.



(Really captures the majesty of the Western Cowboy Hero, doesn't it?)









(Meh, its kinda impressionistic)






Scaramanga brought him over to the group discussing motion pictures and, interupting a discussion of the movie: Alfie and the relative merits of Michael Caine in that role, he introduced Stuart to the group. "Chop-xin, Lin Ye Tan, Fang Chi, and Timothy, I introduce Captain Stuart Townshend, the future Lord Turnips. "

The one that Scaramanga identified as Fang Chi waved and greeted Stuart. "Hi, we were just discussing the director's use of the fourth wall as a particularly ground breaking way of keeping the Alfie character sympathetic to the audience despite his patentedly unlikeable personality." The one Scaramanga identified as Chop-xin interupted. "Nonsense, Michael Caine's personality made Alfie. This fourth wall nonsense you keep talking about is just a gimmick."

Scaramanga raised his hand "Gentlemen, I must continue my introductions, please forgive us."

Scaramanga led Stuart over to the group engaged in the discussion of poetry. Scaramanga and Stuart walked up right in the middle of a passionate reading:

"Turning and turning in the widening drain
The Sloan Valve man cannot hear the Sloan Valve failure;
plumbing falls apart; the centre cannot
hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the septic system,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity. "

"Utter crap, Bao-Dang!" Interupted one of the poet appreciating martial artists. "Try mine: "

I met a Sloan Valve Man from an antique land Who said: Two vast and
trunkless legs of porcelin Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand, Half
sunk, a shatter'd visage lies, whose frown And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold
commandTell that its sculptor well those passions readWhich yet survive, stamp'd
on these lifeless things,The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed.And on
the pedestal these words appear:"My name is Ozymandias, plumber of kings:Look on my valve works, ye Mighty, and despair!"

"Horrible, just horrible" the rest of the group all groaned.

With that Scaramanga led Stuart out into patio. "Stuart, I hope you appreciate what we have here on this island. I understand that this might be hard to grasp but I have endeavored to provide a haven for these artists within the cliche' of an Army-of-martial-artists-engaged-in-nefarious-black arts-for-the-evil Communists. I have been doing some small odd jobs for the Chinese government in exchange for their looking the other way while I provide a haven from the troubles occurring on the mainland for these Chinese artists."

"Hopefully you will join our artist colony and bring us the benefit of your fine breeding and education."

Clearly, Captain Stuart had some thinking to do. As he considered that, one of the oriental artists ran up excitedly. "Oooh, Scaramanga you just must have him answer the Proust Questionaire! Its always the most delicious game!"