“Aren’t bunnies the best?” “Sure are.” “We are bunnies.” Thus went the conversations of Bunny Land. Each day scores of happy bunny topics were broached by the BCI or Bunny Chief Inquisitors.
The job of the BCI was one of great responsibility. It required poise, confidence, fluency in 64 languages, degrees in the interdisciplinary fields of both Chemical Engineer-leading and Chemical Cheerleading, and no history of fur matting.
Although not required, it was expected that the BCI candidate would have a good working knowledge of hair care products. Since almost every bunny in the world has been used for chemical or cheerleading testing, they generally know what hair care products burn their eyes. This universality of training in bunny society is one of the primary reasons that it isn’t even mentioned on the forms.
Bunnies of note have often speculated as to whether a bunny could achieve such a high-ranking position as BCI without having a comprehensive hair care research background and if so, what would happen. The consensus of opinion at the last HRS (Hopping Rodent Summit) was that it would have no positive or negative effect on the duties of the BCI. But the real question remained unanswered, “Could it happen? Could a bunny be elected with no hair product experience?”
The following is a paid advertisement:
Yes, there is nothing more enjoyable than acquiring your very own fluffy, cuddly bunny. As we all know, bunnies are the answer to all of our woes. They are happy, bouncy, quiet, and their poop is round. These are the key factors that have made bunnies such valuable members of almost every family in America. It doesn’t hurt that they wiggle their damn noses when they nibble on clover! I swear, some people have literally died from cute attacks after watching bunnies hop around and nibble on sprouts. This is why the bunny has been featured on the news so often recently. It seems a bit harsh to compare the cuteness of the bunny to the venom of a cobra, but at least they qualified it by making it clear that the comparison was to a spitting cobra. I get the spitting cobra analogy on one level anyway, a spitting cobra can blind its prey from several feet away and a bunny can blind its prey with cuteness from up to 80 yards away. So in that sense, I have to concede that bunnies are more dangerous. However, in most cases I still have to say that the comparisons are unfair.
Get one today!!! A bunny, not a cobra!!!
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Ghost Doll
Once upon a time there was a little girl named Ghost Doll. She was made of glass and fire, and was allergic to killer bullets. But once while waltzing to the soup store, she stepped into the middle of a bulletin board landslide that scraped her out to sea. When she finally stopped barfing shards of lemon pie, she realized that she metaphorically wasn't in Kansas anymore. She also redundantly had never been in Kansas before, at least twice. She paradoxically had ALSO never been to Kansas anymore.
After she had finally finished pondering the realizations of not having been in Kansas, she began to wonder what she should already know, and why wondering this might do her any good, when the answers were bound to be wrapped in mysterious ramblings from an impersonal narration by a former NFL hall-of-famer if they could get him, which they couldn't. But he had turned down so many opportunities that opportunity finally got bored and stopped knocking him on the head and instead tried the kneecaps and landed him like a ton of fish after he stopped bathing because he couldn't afford soup and was dyslexic in a funny (but not derogatory) way.
Opportunity knocks, not mocks. One of the new slogans opportunity had printed for tee-shirts of inverted destiny that it had printed up on aluminum feather garlands that filter through our transparent minds with greased knots weaved within our tangled strangled consciousness creating a shovel-slapped plethora of life-giving crimson fluid for the counterpoint to our intensity of inverse nuances.
Well, of all her friends Ghost Doll's best friend in the whole universe was a girl named Tuna Scooper, and they would laugh and play, even though they were only each other's imaginary friends. But they themselves were in each other's parallel universes, so they would spend their days explaining to the other imaginary friends that in the world to which they belonged they weren't real. But the other imaginary friends treated them as outcasts due in part to the fact that a decree had been written that allowed mice to be used as lies for a decade and four pennies. But still nothing came of it.
But, oh, how they would laugh and play and dissolve crickets and aluminum handbags and western style handkerchiefs which they used to sun themselves on the family gizzard pick and scream about how uptight holidays spawned by cancer are.
Those were the days we all recalled with trite contrition spoon fed like a baby mermaid glittering in the mundane & noxious oceans of our prefab bliss.
After she had finally finished pondering the realizations of not having been in Kansas, she began to wonder what she should already know, and why wondering this might do her any good, when the answers were bound to be wrapped in mysterious ramblings from an impersonal narration by a former NFL hall-of-famer if they could get him, which they couldn't. But he had turned down so many opportunities that opportunity finally got bored and stopped knocking him on the head and instead tried the kneecaps and landed him like a ton of fish after he stopped bathing because he couldn't afford soup and was dyslexic in a funny (but not derogatory) way.
Opportunity knocks, not mocks. One of the new slogans opportunity had printed for tee-shirts of inverted destiny that it had printed up on aluminum feather garlands that filter through our transparent minds with greased knots weaved within our tangled strangled consciousness creating a shovel-slapped plethora of life-giving crimson fluid for the counterpoint to our intensity of inverse nuances.
Well, of all her friends Ghost Doll's best friend in the whole universe was a girl named Tuna Scooper, and they would laugh and play, even though they were only each other's imaginary friends. But they themselves were in each other's parallel universes, so they would spend their days explaining to the other imaginary friends that in the world to which they belonged they weren't real. But the other imaginary friends treated them as outcasts due in part to the fact that a decree had been written that allowed mice to be used as lies for a decade and four pennies. But still nothing came of it.
But, oh, how they would laugh and play and dissolve crickets and aluminum handbags and western style handkerchiefs which they used to sun themselves on the family gizzard pick and scream about how uptight holidays spawned by cancer are.
Those were the days we all recalled with trite contrition spoon fed like a baby mermaid glittering in the mundane & noxious oceans of our prefab bliss.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Understanding Nudity
We don't choose to be nude. We're born that way.
Words such as these may make some people uncomfortable. But it is a fact that we are all nude at one time or another, and in fact we are unclothed to some degree at all times, so "partial nudity" should not be a shocking thing to see. If it is seen, it is generally seen with the naked eye, because binoculars and video cameras will often convince the somewhat nude person to cover up.
Now I want to make it perfectly clear that I do not condone nudity, nor do I revel in it. I am merely admitting that I have been nude at times. It's nothing to be ashamed of... unless you're nude in front of other people, which is disgusting.
There are however, many people who actually apply to themselves the label "nudist", as if they can really be summed up in such a generic term, and who am I to say that they can't?
Also, many people live their daily lives with little or nothing to wear, and yet they wouldn't generally be thought of as nudists but rather, as lazy, poor, itchy, burned over 80% of their bodies, too fat right now, sun bathing, getting a full body waxing in preparation for a nude photo spread that they were tricked into believing was actually required by the government to pre-screen potential organ donors, taking a bath or shower, deciding what to wear or "other".
I'm sure there was some reason I started writing this... trying to be clever, sorry it didn't work.
Words such as these may make some people uncomfortable. But it is a fact that we are all nude at one time or another, and in fact we are unclothed to some degree at all times, so "partial nudity" should not be a shocking thing to see. If it is seen, it is generally seen with the naked eye, because binoculars and video cameras will often convince the somewhat nude person to cover up.
Now I want to make it perfectly clear that I do not condone nudity, nor do I revel in it. I am merely admitting that I have been nude at times. It's nothing to be ashamed of... unless you're nude in front of other people, which is disgusting.
There are however, many people who actually apply to themselves the label "nudist", as if they can really be summed up in such a generic term, and who am I to say that they can't?
Also, many people live their daily lives with little or nothing to wear, and yet they wouldn't generally be thought of as nudists but rather, as lazy, poor, itchy, burned over 80% of their bodies, too fat right now, sun bathing, getting a full body waxing in preparation for a nude photo spread that they were tricked into believing was actually required by the government to pre-screen potential organ donors, taking a bath or shower, deciding what to wear or "other".
I'm sure there was some reason I started writing this... trying to be clever, sorry it didn't work.
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