Xenomanes the navigator was a Barbarian by birth, although there was Greek on the spindle side and a Roman on the distaff. He was always scratching his head like a monkey with cirrhosis and babbling under his breath like a crustacean. Yet here was the man who in proud liege to King Knute learned to ski with a toboggan on each foot. And by the king’s daughter in holy wedlock sired the man who first put his head into a lion’s mouth and saved a shilling on a barber. When he, Xenomanes, returned to north Africa, he barbecued a slug of wildebeests in homage to the three fates, the four farts, the five senses that are thereby aroused, the six packs, and the seven maids a-milking.
The Tlingit of northwest America tell a story of the magical conception of a girl by the sawdust of the fire borer. The boring for the new state fire among the Loango of west Afticaa coincides with the public coitus of a young couple.
This conceptual framework seems to be a late consequence of earlier ideas of fire in the body of humans, especially of women, as a centre of sexual life. The Marind of New Guinea, who, in their myth of the origin of fire view it as being derived from the sexual act, undertake the new boring of fire in connection with a cultic act in which the raping of a girl is the central rite.
When iron-smelting techniques by means of fire became common among New Stone Age peoples, the making of iron in shaft furnaces and bellows has been interpreted as coitus with a subsequent birth.
Elvis never came to my funeral, and why would he, I never came to his. Jesus never mentioned me in his will, but I will mention his in mine.
Of Tarzan and the arm I sing
Wonder Woman and Fu Manchu
Working it up in the lab at night
By the light of the silvery moo
His good arm got caught in the wringer while trying to squirt a growth hormone into the whites. He treated it with a double dilution of the ruptured spleen of the creature from the Black Lagoon. You can imagine how that turned out. His hard drives barely get to sleep. He’s sooey generis, very generous, especially with his greenhouse gases. He was able to convert them to laughing gases via the laws of capitalism.
What to say about her? Born dancing. Junior achiever. The crack in the cosmic egg. He had her tailed so he knew there wasn’t another man.
When you go out to write, you’ve got to look out for those hemmingways. What’s a hemmingway? Forty ounce in the old measure, just shy of a jeroboam.
Even flies sleep, so I suppose worms do too. Or maybe they just take a nap. Do they dream? Even Freud couldn’t figure that out.
Simulations show that if the Earth did not have a Moon, Newton would not have discovered gravity. At least not until 1950, by which time the Russians were already working on Sputnik.
I heard on the news something about transcendental darwinism, or was it about christian capitalism, or post-modern antiquity?
And who said it? Clark Subaru — Hieronymus Honda — Karl the notorious communist synthesizer?
No, it was the man who had his face shot off by vice-president Dick Cheney on a duck hunt. He forgot to duck, according to the inquest, and he got off with a light sentence. His wife couldn’t go in or out the door without being adorable. And him, some say he was double hung.
Seven times the seven came to the first gate and failed to penetrate. They were getting nowhere fast. Then each of the seven consulted seven wise men, who offered seven solutions each and every one.
Bearing them all in mind, the seven bore down on their next excursion and beat the gate. The first gate.
Seven times the seven came to the second gate and failed to penetrate.
Xenomanes was Apache on the spindle side. His father was Tarsands the carboniferous man. His mother was Queen Jane for a day and a half.
Wonder Woman was his sidekick, to go back to primeval days, his mate, his date, his funraiser in times of need, his kneader of daily bread, his breeder in butter times.
He had laid aside some buffalo chips for when the shit hit the fandolear when out of the blue said shit did hit. That put a big hole in his background story.
She got up on on her stump. With a huff and a puff she blow your man down.
They were true nobodies like in days of yore, and nobody could deny.
Those who command resources always need more. It’s in our own best interest, according to their lawyers. It’s an odds on favorite, according to the bootlickers. It’s the end of the line, according to those who execute the code.
All the advance thinkers agree on one thing, but they don’t know what it is.