Thursday, June 17, 2004

Rubber Bomb Decoder Ring

Ladies and Germaphobes,

The Rubber Bomb (patent lapsed) is an organization that prides itself on security and strict quality controls (consequently, you'd think we could get a decent bear claw around here!) in producing it's literary content (read: blithering babble). As a result, all of our published entries are encoding with advanced algorithms to confound and thwart our sworn enemies (read: loyal patrons). To keep the information flowing freely to our boon companions (read: arch rivals) we ask you to adhere to following guidelines in order to properly decode (read: try like hell to understand) the light banter and whimsical tales contained herein.

KEY: [word/phrase written] = [word/phrase to be used]

Perrier = Night Train
clay oven = acetylene torch
a clearing in the forest = alley filled with broken glass
years spent abroad = a weekend at the track
Henri Matisse = Bruce Jenner
a natty cap = 3 unmatched sweat socks and a cheese shredder
the azure sea = a rusted nail
beyond reproach = taking a leak in the front yard
a remarkable coincidence = who's the leprechaun and does HE have the key to the humidor?
wire whisk = rear spoiler from a mid 60's Impala
Highway Patrol = Dan Haggarty on a bender
the ocean floor = 2-for-1 night at the Boobs 'n' Wings
a vital contribution = face plant in the onion dip

Monday, June 07, 2004

While The Gorgons Are Sleeping

1. Why can't the asphalt whistle?
2. Who's the card shark in the cellophane pants?
3. Is the Fruit Brute in season and by whom?
4. Which way to the radiator tree?
5. Who left the snickering crowbar out in the sun so long?
6. Are the mallets for rent and what are the going rates in Chuck Connors rookie cards?
7. Which brand of margarine is prefered by 4 out of 5 heads of state?
8. Where is that less than pleasant Sherpa eminating from?
9. How did the wombats take the fortress?
10. Why have you glued the camels to the tarmac?
11. Is it my turn to burp the gold ingots you simpering twerp?
12. Do you expect me to believe that and for how many Chuck Connors rookie cards?

Thursday, June 03, 2004

Statement of Missin' Porpoise

Posed the querulous query, "Hobbies?" We here at the Rubber Bomb responded in the following manner:

Forming independent letters into sounds and stringing them together in order to produce "words." Then (in a laboratory environment/parent's basement), breeding these so-called "words" in order to produces phrases (or "sentences," we've heard them called). Finally, orphaning these alphabetic behemoths in strategic locations whereby innocent readers are most likely to stumble across them, regard them with a combination of horror and pitiful affection and gather them up to read and write them as their own. Utilizing an array of highly unorthodox (read: patently illegal) surveillance devices, we monitor the progress of our budding verbiage. When these bastard word-strings bloom into the full flower of their bitterness... when the meaning of their existence mutates in the miasma of muddled lineage... when they rebel against their rearers and rip their roots from the fertile soil of their sole solid foundation to seek their syntactic framers, we will be waiting.

And golf.

Clay Pots (and Other Assorted Tax Dodges)

Just got back from Roland Garros and boy is my face red. (Wow, I . . . I do apologize. Right out of the gate, too. No time for anyone to prepare. Goodness. I suppose I could blame the four cases of merlot, but as we/they say in Paris, that'll be 5,000 francs Misseur Lewis.)

Upon my return: Everything in my office had been rearranged and painted coffee filter orange, save for the green tea bags, which I knowingly faxed to my broker before I left (less caffeine means a lower commission--I'm saving already!). Let's be clear: My partner is both shameful and shameless at the same time (void where prohibited). Once I was in Civil Brand for six years, and I came back to find that he'd laminated my paralegal. (I'm not paying that temp $55 an hour just to spinal flex! That type of effort is worth $40 an hour, tops. Besides, who will run my wagers over to the OTB?). Were it not for the fact that my partner won back my favorite plastic binder ($11.50 on sale. On sale! I tells ya the Plastics Council rules the Free Masons, who in turn command the Rose Bowl Committee, who in turn run a mighty fine parade with a modestly priced after-brunch) in a fixed game of hold 'em (is there any other kind?), I would take my pre-moistened clasp envelopes and saunter elsewhere. But as it stands, the rent is paid through the month, so I may as well relax and dream of meatless Fridays (I believe their next disc drops on the 8th).

Anyone seen my 6-iron?

Wednesday, June 02, 2004

An Pound Of Flesh plus CRV

Act II, Scene XVI: Beside the Mandan Tree (filed Friday, 3rd District Court of Appeals), in the gloaming.

[The Lincoln whose headlights have been on all this time peeks from the wings and motions to its owner. Embarrassed, the owner tosses his keys onstage wrapped in a 50. His date (3-time IBF boxing champ Torreo "u-UH-glee!" Garza) is not impressed and weeps softly to himself. The Lincoln exits with a respectfully played "toot toot" of its horn. Meanwhile, a large jar of mayonnaise has been applying aloe vera to its label. It cringes in pain having overslept in the Portuguese sun. A knock on the door. The stagehands begrudgingly lumber onstage to construct one.]

Not in the [expletive deleted] script. Not in the script.

LOUIE (shamelessly playing to the audience)
We suffer for our art, Lou. We really do. Hey, there's my Mom! Hi Mom!

Grab a hammer Louie and if you're ma is handy, she can work the sander.

Take it easy fellas, take it easy. Hey, I said take it [expletive deleted] easy!

[The other two stagehands go silently and pleasantly about their business]

LOU (his rage increasing, his pants retreating)
Yo, I told you [expletive deleted] [expletive deleted] to take it [expletive deleted] easy!

How's yer ma with a plane, Louie. We sure could use a solid planer.

LOUIE (going hoarse as he screams to the balcony)
Well, it may be the life that we've chosen, but I wouldn't have it any other way. It's simple, plain living and hard work. It calms my nerves and puts my mind at peaceful ease.

[LOUIS collapses out of exhaustion, breathless. The others drag him off to thunderous applause. Another knock. The mayonnaise jar answers the pile of wood and nails. It giggles when a pajama-clad wash basin prances in. The wash basin throws Jolly Rancher brand hard candies into the audience who collectively shriek, groping and clawing their way for the exit.]

It is by thine good graces that I have found what was the very essence of mine own soul. Oh, but for the gruesome incident involving the cole slaw recipe --a mere ruse to disguise the appalling mustard stench emanating from the egg salad-- I too would be as free as the proverbial ethers to skip merrily. But alas, 'twill not be so.

[The wash basin is indelicately hoisted into the rafters and 3 dozen migrating geese swarm in tearing at the seat cushions]


Tuesday, June 01, 2004

The Elegant Waist of Thyme

Kind and gentle readers... piss off, no one's talking to you!

Nasty and abrasive readers,

Firstly, our field trip to Pimlico is this weekend and I need your forged trip slips and completed Daily Racing Forms (remember to show your work) by Thursday.

Secondly, how are you homeboys (and young ladies) hanging?

**Please note: we at The Rubber Bomb consider it immensely important to reach out and bond with today's disenfranchised youngsters and apathetic pre-teen population. (After that, eh, who cares anymore? Hit the bricks, fend for yourself, stop yer grousing.) We feel that it's critical to make a positive connection with these street-savvy hoodlums --forgive me, that was insensitive-- street-savvy "wastrels" BEFORE they turn to a life of violence and crime and subsequently beat and/or rob US. It is in this manner, that we are able to employ these lovable and developmentally damaged ragamuffins to strongarm the weak (not us, the OTHER, less foresighted weak) on our behalf and at our behest for pennies on the dollar. In so doing, we are teaching these losers --ooh, scratch that-- "non-entities" a valuable lesson in cultivating and capitalizing on cheap labor. Further, by serving our precious li'l pawns a balanced diet of demoralization and appreciation, we are able to hold in check their natural emotional evolution, thus maximizing our investment, by extending the window of juvenility and recklessness. Their innocent sense of invincibility and inability to identify potential danger are unique qualities that we find invigorating, exhilarating and exploitable. The Rubber Bomb is a leader in youth services, services that include (but are in NO WAY limited to) extortion, larceny, land and mineral rights dispute resolution, battery and arson. Please contact your local chapter for service availability and current rates.**

Thirdly, if anybody has seen my ottoman, please contact me immediately. The wisecrackers responsible are advised to return it along with the half-dozen bars of Zest. We know these two pranks were related as the same brand of peanut butter was recovered from bathroom tile and the matching Broyhill recliner. Thank you for your understanding.

Oh, did I mention nobody eats until these items are returned in tact? It'd be a shame to miss "solid food" night... that's all I'm saying.

Thank you for your cooperation,

The management.