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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