Don’t Cry Over Cereal Milk

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Upon hearing about the invention of cereal milk, a woman I know well had an immediate opportunity to try it. With a mix of curiosity and fear, she drank the small sample and wondered to herself how the world is simultaneously puzzling and simply awesome.

Months later, she invested a considerable amount of time organizing her two young daughters’ joint birthday party. She diligently arranged the venue, decorations, gifts, invitations and cake. When her checklist was complete she set about her mind wondering “What else can make this party special?” And then it came to her, “How about I buy cereal milk for all of the guests. I will be the coolest Mom there is!”

And so she made a call to a trusted source that knows about these types of things and obtained the name and website of a noted cereal milk vendor. She went to the website and placed her order, carefully executing the online order form with her name, address, email and credit card information.

Several days later she received an email from the vendor which stated:

“I noticed that you are an attorney who specializes in class action lawsuits. I have had problems with companies trying to reverse engineer my product. What are your intentions with my cereal milk? Please let me know or I will have to cancel your order.”

She was dumbfounded. It was a perfect combination of confusion and hilarity. “Heavens to Murgatroyd” I imagine she said aloud to an otherwise empty room.

She wanted to respond.

She dreamed of responding.

“How about I come to your office and empty the containers of cereal milk on your head?” she began to type, yet quickly deleted, realizing the uselessness of such a response.

Clearly she was dealing with a unique case of delusion.

Soon she set about typing again “My intention with your product is to purchase it and then consume it. I don’t have a laboratory available to me to reverse engineer your product, but I would venture a guess that you pour milk into a bowl of sugar cereal and then strain out the cereal and bottle the liquid for resale? My apologies if I have cracked your top secret formula.”

“Just hit send” she thought. But she couldn’t. No amount of time or energy was worth a response to this type of paranoia.

“Don’t cry over Cereal Milk” she lamented and then proceeded to put the events behind her except for that one remaining question. Does this genius vet all of his customers?

Juice was served at the party instead.

 

Cereal Milk Recipe (Preparation Time 30 seconds)

You Will Need

-milk

-sugar cereal

-mixing bowl or large container

-additional container(s) for the finished product

-colander or strainer

 Steps

 -pour milk in bowl or container

-pour cereal in bowl or container

-shake or stir

-strain out cereal

-pour milk into container

-SERVE!!!!!!!

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Wake Me If The House Burns Down

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Slide into bed, so happy you can sleep
No worries as the eyelids shut and the mind unwinds
Wake me if the house burns down

Hellfire!
Assuming that the heating supply will never run out
A place where all the women are over six feet tall (very odd)
Two thoughts diverge, neither makes any sense

All the while the aliens hide like little bugs on the ceiling (to watch you) until you fall into deep sleep and then they turn into life-size beings and take you to their ship to perform their experiments.

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Joint Report of the Director General of the World Health Organization and the Executive Director of the United Nations Vengeful Clowns Foundation

JK KR SM 95
Part I – Declaration of Illegal Insanity

Who is the “Sick Bitch”? Music is the “Sick Bitch”. Love and passion have their itch, but the Sick Bitch is a want for a need.

The Sick Bitch has the earth in its hand to be thrown like a flaming pin intended to hit you upside the head. The Sick Bitch can squeal at a pitch that will make your dog cringe and force you to reassess you eating binge (even if you don’t watch TV). I have seen it laughing like idiotic teenagers sledding towards a tree.

A list labeled “Agenda” found at the base of the Rapportian Obelisk read “Destroy Sick Bitch, it must be stopped”.

“Who is the Sick Bitch?” Asked Goody Proctor’s ghost (oh yes) the Salem Witch. ‘Twas said that it might be called tone or pitch. Ethel the Queeny and White Heap were both fast asleep but I’ve got the next best thing: new blood from my work with mud. And so for this hour off of your life, I hope you’ve come to terms with your body type.

Part II – Corrupt Land Distribution

Owing itself to Rapportian discourse, King Kovalcek (The Fat Chicken) raised his staff and called out for war. “Capture the Sick Bitch and we will exploit its wisdom”. Meanwhile Plunk (the Practitioner of Percussive Assault, The Ruler of Russe, He who reigns over relevant rhythms) had already accomplished this task and had Sick Bitch imprisoned in the eye of the needle atop his city. But what Plunk didn’t understand, what neither Rapport, The Fat Chicken or any other could grasp was that the Sick Bitch was content in its own mind.

Nails ruled his village with riddles of Rapportian discourse. World domination could only be achieved by filling everyone with watermelon and then hiding the key to the bathroom. It was by chance that the four Dictators came together and formed an alliance to coerce Sick Bitch into revealing its secrets. Their plan was to kill it with kindness but first they’d have to learn their instruments.

Part III – First Things First; Get Yourself a Guitar (a lesson from the Sick Bitch)

In the interval between death and rebirth, certain concessions were made. The bed won’t be a prison and we’re going to have to put a dimmer on the sun when the baseball travels to me in right field. In planning for the future the suggestion was made to hit the rewind button and learn from the past. For the sake of argument we’ll call the button pusher Jem (she’s truly outrageous, truly, truly, truly outrageous).

There was never any real sense of urgency around the house. The word ‘bustling’ was just recently introduced into my vocabulary and simply as a phrase of description during a phase of contradiction. Next door lived a big family whose jolly nature it was to set their sights on the holidays. Curiosity led me into their backyard many days and always led to a tightening in my stomach from incessant laughter. “And Abraham begat Isaac… and so on” (and now do you understand what was so damn funny)?

I suppose it was the split second before the ice ball hit the special needs bus windshield that I understood the true definition of accountability. And that is where this sense of urgency came from; recognizing the complexity of the mechanism that allows an operational lift on the special needs bus. “It’s too bad you’re moving on” interjected Jem “you are like my alter ego.”

I don’t know how many shelves there are in the Library of Congress but does there really need to be more than one? “Well of course” was the coarse reply “everybody’s got something to say and they are saying it to themselves!”

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The Never Ending Michelin Tire

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Kelly Lauren forgot that she was foreign
She tied her hair in knots
Gimme another brother, she called to her mother
Let loose the Mary Magdalene robots

Jennifer Shoemaker hailed the test-taker
And said to his face “you’re a cheat!”
She threatened this prick with a scratch and a kick
And peppered his face with her cleats

Kerri Di-saw-bells stole the Book of Kells
And drew in cartoons of her own
“You must know I have lied” she said to her tribe
“I am the telephone, so pass me the megaphone!”

Prudith Rivera is in love with Clara (and Yogi Berra)
And it seems she has learned to fly
She constructed her wings with these plastic leaf things
And drank the Connecticut River dry

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Pockets Full of Ice

Jacy-Lynn, the Princess Original Sin, started off her Wednesday morn’ with pockets full of ice. “Freezing ass freaking chilly” she was fond of saying. “My sister’s brother won’t shake my hand but he’s got a leak in his inner core and the temperature is far too high for sleeping comfortably”. On her way past the puppets she placed her scissors into her burlap sack and shook her head four times for good luck.

“Ice is swell, go to hell, ice is clean, friendly puppets.”

“Man overboard!” screamed the puppeteer (better known as King Leer) as his strings intertwined like thousands of coiled snakes trying to mate.  [Author’s note: the Discovery Channel proudly presents such fascinating animal mating scenes rather periodically in order to scare aging conservatives and make immature teenagers giggle with glee].

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The Waves

We were waving.

We were waving at no-one.

We were waving at no-one special.

We were waving at no-one special except for those in the ocean. 

We were waving at on-one special except for those in the ocean because those in the ocean were riding on waves.

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Driggs and Roebling (Original Liner Notes)

What can you do? What can you say? Why would it matter anyway? Afraid of the creatures? Well why would that be? You are bigger than them you see!

Tomorrow I had left my notes by the clarinet room. It was a nice room without any furniture. Driggs will be late yesterday so I will ask him to sweep everything into the corner and dust the ceiling. You see Driggs is peculiar. He fancies lemon meringue desserts but only has time for them on every third Memorial Day that falls on a leap year.

Roebling has some recipes which he keeps by the clarinet room. He is only slightly stranger than Driggs. Since I play the Trombone it is only fitting that I am not allowed to solo. They used to call me Bones, then Nails although I suggested something a little more flexible like Slinky.

In a daze South 4th will call and quit the record. South 4th wants guitars. I will say that everybody plays the guitar.

I tried to pry open the little notebook in the hope of memorizing its contents but I was less than successful. So I kicked at the trash can and grabbed my cracker stick. It was only then that I will realize what I will have to do in the past. Billy Beetroot had it right when he said “Freedom is for the rich!”

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The Flaming Pin!

We were bowling. True story. We were bowling. Probably only 5 of 40 lanes were being used. Approximate time: 1:30 AM. We had two lanes; one of us bowled the ball…which hit the pins…which brought the Ole’ Bowley widget down to “pick and sweep”. The machine got stuck, shook a bit, made some loud noises and then it was released. The only pin left standing was aflame! We gently spoke “Fire, fire…um… there’s a fire.” The attendant ran a great length to get to Ole’ Bowley. The fire went out before he got to be the hero. The bowling pin looked like a champagne bottle. We were moved to another lane without reduction in price. Mark that down as a nine!

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Power Drum Suit (Part 3)

It was either by choice, or by ridiculous storms, which prevented the adults from thinking.

The only thing interesting about Nails was his jaundice, recently brought on by being born again. “Not another second of this can I stand mon’” screamed Toots as he smoked himself to death and passed into Reggae heaven. Denny Anyone picked up his scratch and motioned to Cho, trailing in with “…the Pig Blood Porridge and he’ll have the Pork Stomach Porridge”. O’Donnell was now demanding down beats on the 2’s and 4’s from D. Rich and then something happened. As D. Rich steered the conversation away from the inevitable D’yer Maker, Spirit of Radio, Live and Let Die scenarios by stating “It was a big deal when I switched my wallet from my left pocket to my right…”, everything not nailed down turned into Crystal Gale. A giant Crystal Gale. She turned on her television and threw her snifter into the fire. As soon as she hit the chair her body stiffened as she was entranced by the wondrous voice of Julian Tavarez narrating the Telenovela. She focused on the subtitles which read:

Griselda speaks “Brollik, the policia are patrolling the skies with their jet packs. We must find D. Rich and his Power Drum Suit, he must save us…”

Nails speaks “Griselda, ever since D. Rich found out that he was both O’Donnell’s uncle and son, and that the alternate universe he had been living in was just a dream and that there are no talking tigers, and that his famous march across the Rio Grande was merely a book he had read about Poncho Villa, …well… he just can bear to be in the band anymore. He’s moved off and went back to Masky’s Cave.”

Enter Eric Estrada after having flung a grappling hook into Maingey’s thigh shouting “That is for impregnating my partner John!”

{This story now abruptly removes this nonsense of subtitles and disregards any need for the coddling of its readers.}

“Maingey” said O’Donnell slightly off-topic “if you want to send her a message that you’re not interested just call her the wrong name next time you see her.”

It was in this moment of confusion that Nails attempted his escape. He had weaved another Power Drum Suit and with it he took to the sky to battle the crooked cops. He ended up in the hospital next to a woman who turned out to be of no relation. In the next room lay Maingey, beaten by Estrada and mauled by wolves. He was only saved because one of the cops had lost control of his jetpack, landed in a sheep herd and pulled Maingey to safety. The cop turned out to be his step-cousin. “Griselda, we must go to Masky’s lair and convince D. Rich that he has to come back” pleaded Ana. Griselda and Ana hopped into a suit and took off towards Masky’s Cave. Ana would never be heard from again.

When the light hit the room you could see that the room was green. Strewn about were old power drum suits, littered with burn holes and tears. You could almost see D. Rich busting out of them with the smell of fear in his nose. That he ever agreed to don another one was beyond Maingey. O’Donnell kicked at the scraps and took a deep breath. When he exhaled he nodded. After he nodded he went catatonic. Maingey threw a pitch fork at him. Masky was reading the New Britain Herald.

After a brief pause and genuflect D. Rich dreamed a dream. Through this dream he communicated Brollik Service Announcement Number R to everyone within a hectare and a half perimeter. It was to deal with O’Donnell’s year long ban of guitar solos for testing positive for human growth hormone. The Power Drum Suit spoke D. Rich’s dream thusly: “Turns out God is the oldest living woman. I met her one Monday when I was at La Cocina ordering burritos and she was behind me in the queue telling me to change my order. We had both called in sick that day from work. She disappeared for a spell but now she’s back and fond of emailing spam to agnostics and burning atheists. For the first month of O’Donnell’s suspension Nails must take all of the solos.”

Thus began National Keyboard Solo Month. Unfortunately, Nails only knew one solo, in one key, and played it in every song no matter what tempo, genre or tonal center. It took 27 days for Super fan Sillman to notice but finally the damage to Brollik’s reputation had to be reversed. For the next 11 months D. Rich and Maingey had to kick their soloing into high gear in order to escape the Telenovela. Once freed from it they would lean on Suge to extract them from all things Crystal Gale.

But Suge was no more. He had made passage on the latest Voyage of the Mimi (something he had dreamed of doing since his time at Degrassi Junior High).

It was Griselda who hired Bryce Manheim, Dairy Magnate from Nebraska, to manage the band. Bryce enjoyed the ability to mispronounce everything, from names to common phrases. Bryce booked Brollik on the Barbara Mandrel Comedy Hour when, out of the blue, Crystal stepped through the studio roof with space boots and appeared in full cosmonaut regalia. Mildly amused by the tenor of the conversation Mandrel had been holding with Brollik, Crystal interjected herself during the shocking pause her entrance created and asked D. Rich what the D stands for. “The D stands for decrudescence, because that’s what I do for people, with the help of my Power Drum Suit that is.”

But with the utterance of decrudescence everyone who heard it had been carried off in the Rapture. O’Donnell, Nails, Maingey and Bryce had not been however since they never listened to D. Rich anyway. “Bye Griselda” Maingey faintly spoke.

Everyone had been a little on edge since escaping the Telenovela/Crystal Gale fiasco and it was only heightened by the discovery that Chimpy had joined a social network. “Sycophantic dullard who enjoys cheeses, short movies and multi-vitamins” was his status. O’Donnell worried aloud that “other primates might try to stalk him”. D. Rich’s worry manifested itself in the additions of a helmet cam and an air conditioning unit to his suit. “I need to combat the heat of the stage lights” he would often say. Maingey, well…he could barely touch a cigarette as he fretted over Chimpy or another Drum Suit implosion. “Give me one shot of Paddy’s” said Maingey as he held up two fingers. “It must be high noon somewhere.” Nails stopped writing because he got sick at Snacky’s and was never the same again. Somebody started to brush their teeth.

And when the last note of delay finally ended from U2’s LA rooftop performance, Brollik became a board game.

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Power Drum Suit (Part 2)

Broonzy…. well he was the kind of guy who’d take your family in after a Quake but probably not the type of individual who you would subpoena as a character witness on your behalf. You see he had that twitchy kind of eye thing (or so said Masky) and was nearly impossible to get a hold of unless there was a disaster (perhaps no coincidence Maingey often thought). It was after the Grizzly/Sasquatch War of 2023 that Brollik found themselves in Broonzy’s lair (although he could only be seen at “special times”). The furniture was mostly old pillows and shipping filler glued to rocks, but Masky did make a point of cooking breakfast for the boys every morning (unless there was an away game in Trujillo or somewhere). One morning O’Donnell woke from a dream yelling “Brollik! Mount up! We’ve lounged here too long! We need to buy back the gear we hocked in Reno! At dusk we’re going to rob the Santa Fe Line; Maingey go find us some ponies!”

Armed with his super-slingshot Maingey scanned the horizon. Nails had commandeered a scythe back in Broonzy’s tool shed and O’Donnell had several canisters of tear gas ready for ‘Operation Felony’. D. Rich needed no additional weapons for he had not pawned his power drum suit – and with the Vic Firth endorsement he’d just received he was ready to shoot his old Evans and Remo sticks at anything that moved in the Conductor’s car.

The sound was deafening. Nails moved up in half steps in every major key, O’Donnell moved down in diminished scales, a bass player (that no-one remembers) played whole tone scales at random, while D. Rich yodeled into the microphone, banging his array of bathtubs with rubber mallets. It was a recording from a midnight jam session back in 2006 blasting through speakers placed by the prison that knocked down its walls. Out sprang Brollik from their cells and they boarded a starship piloted by Suge Knight. “Rap is getting soft…..Psychedelic Rock is where the real bangers dwell” he said to the boys as they shrugged off this seeming lunacy and took turns chest bumping Robert Zimmerman.

As Suge stood menacingly in the foreground, Brollik entered from stage right. Nails decided to paint himself in neon Indigo for their gig in Greenland. There he was, clutching his keytar, feeling badly for the rarely mentioned color. O’Donnell appeared with a triple neck Gibson and proceeded to open the set by bowing all the necks simultaneously through a stack of Marshall’s injected with fuzz, big muff, tube screamer, univibe, rotovibe, phaser, flanger and wa-wa with a hint of delay. D. Rich joined in with a set of 51 variations of gongs and triangles and Maingey strapped on his tuba.

There was no stopping them, at least until they got filled with drink. They ended their set with a jazz tinged rendition of A-HA’s “Take On Me” and smashed their ‘Who’ records on the stage. Suge pealed off some cash for the boys (except Maingey) and they headed for Odin’s Luxury Inn. “I can dig this. Who gave Masky a key to the minibar? He’s cleaned it out again!” said Nails. Masky emerged from the bathroom with Vanessa Minnillo screaming “I own Lachey now!” Maingey stared at the TV and harmonized along with the humming frequency.

“I’ve got a new song idea” said D. Rich. “It’s got a D minor in it – so you know it’s good”. O’Donnell picked up his washboard and sang along in ancient Mayan. Halfway through the song Masky had a giggle fit. “Gents, now that Suge is in charge, and you’ve invented a new transport beam to move your gear without aid from me – I think it’s time I hit the road. Maybe I’ll make my way down to the Chitlin Circuit and hone my act; I’m a song and dance man as you know” said Masky. All that was left was a lone tear from Maingey’s eye.

“Hide the contracts!” Yelled Suge. “Don Orsillo and The Insane Clown Posse are coming for me! Orsillo’s precision perfect voice turns into a photon-death ray in Greenland and he and the ‘Posse’ will stop at nothing to sign the mighty Brollik!” “I’ll handle this” said D. Rich as he slunk into his drum suit. “I’ve battled dragons and warlocks; anybody who hangs with these clowns is no match for me.” Just then Orsillo broke his fall with his face. “Help us” screamed the ‘Posse’ as they hung from the rafters, trapped by O’Donnell’s fishing net and grappling hooks, wielded ever so masterfully by the so called “seafaring guitarist” although in reality is was a Spiderman toy from his childhood. “Crisis averted” exclaimed Nails as he finished his box of Franzia.

“This next tune is called Insane Clown Posse Meets Mr. Grappling Hook” said O’Donnell as Brollik launched into a demonic jam filled with haunting screams. The tour had taken them to Qatar. By day they bathed in the oasis and by night they foiled crime during Maingey’s brilliant yet extended bass solos. But after a few weeks in the sun Nails and D. Rich decided to retire from crime-fighting and switch to crime-making. O’Donnell could only be distracted by suggestions that he build a quadruple neck guitar with ejectable grappling hooks to ensnare the young women fans they were amassing. After a few false starts {note: several claims are currently in litigation and/or settlement negotiations and therefore cannot be printed here} O’Donnell decided that the hooks were a bad idea and instead decided to purchase AXE to make the ladies swoon. “Pheromones” muttered Maingey. “That’s how I’m going to get my girl. During the underwater sequence of our set I’m gonna get real close to her and ask if she digs crazy people.”

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