My eldest received for her birthday a cookbook devoted solely to cupcakes. She was thrilled and immediately began plotting an obsessive compulsive new hobby, to with; baking complicated cupcakes. Since this is obviously not enough, she also planned a cupcaking blog. As she brainstormed a title she became increasingly frustrated and asked me, her father, a writer, for help. Doesn't she know you, you well may ask. She does, but sometimes her memory fails her. Herewith, a list of some of the titles I suggested:
-Li'l Cups o' Hitler Cake
-Hate Crime Cupcakes
-A Fistful of Cupcakes
-Kick You in the Cupcakes
-Sucking Chest Wound Cupcakes
-Rancid Pork Loin Cupcakes
-Cups of Poisonous Cake
-Not For Consumption Cup Cakes
-I Wouldn't Put This in My Mouth Cupcakes
-Li'l Debbie's Headless Torso Cupcakes
-Hidden False Tooth Cupcakes
-Spoiled Dairy Products Cupcakes
-Ground Glass Cupcakes
-Serial Killer Brand Meaty Cupcakes
-Unending Vomiting Cupcakes
-Killed your Mom Cupcakes
-Test Your Will Cupcakes
-Irritable Bowel Cupcakes
-Nazi, Nazi, Nazi Cupcakes
-Cupcakes for Morons
-Hideous Eyeball Injury Cupcakes
-Psoriasis Fingers Cupcakes
-Missing Pets Cupcakes
-Maybe Mercury Laden Cupcakes
-Them Ain't Cupcakes
-Mister Deadly Cupcakes
-You Didn't Eat That, Did You Cupcakes
-Obese Leering Registered Sex Offender Cupcakes
On fine spring days like this I like to strap a box of cabernet on my back, run a surgical tube to my mouth (A bit of duct tape on the cheek keeps things nicely in place) and sally out into the meadow to walk a while in the tall grass and truncheon puppies.
There are a few slight problems with this, and here are some of them: (more...)
Gentle reader, at this moment I am keen to let twin trains of past and present obsessions collide. The engines meet face to face at exactly equal velocity so that they rise up on their hind wheels while peeling apart and driving through; prismatic spirals of shatter glass, chrome, iron, hydraulic tubing, tungsten (the engines of my mind are always built primarily of tungsten).
Now the lead cars are also rising, pelted by expanding bits and pieces of both engines like meteors, perforating, crushing, collapsing, introducing chaotic elements into what nanoseconds past was perfect symmetry and then the shock wave dispenses with the subtlety of shrapnel and tears each lead car to accelerating, unidentifiable hot chunks. (more...)
Gentle reader, a colossal rainbow soap bubble of an idea has burst in my brain, or else I’m having a stroke, and in any case the concept is too unmanageably huge for me to dream of actually executing it, busy as I am with all the various what not of my day to day. And so, rather than madly tossing the baggage of my life overboard, throwing my arms wide and embracing it, but also unwilling to let it drift away, another cloud dispersing into the stratosphere of all the grand ideas I’ve had and then forgotten; I’ll sketch it out for you here and leave it; A blueprint made of cobwebs and synapse left lying in some virtual attic corner to be found during my eventual estate sale.
I have in mind a metaphoric tool for looking backwards over our shoulders at the collapsing twentieth century we are rapidly clattering away from and it works like this: (more...)
Gentle reader, when I first decided to create ‘Myspace’ and ‘Facebook’ pages, I was mostly screwing around. I thought ‘social networking’ sites were entirely populated by gum snapping teenage girls, desperate rock bands pathetically clinging to the belief that they will one day ‘make it’ while knowing in the pits of their stomachs that they will not, and sexual deviants aroused by pretending to be teenage girls, desperate rock bands pathetically clinging to the belief that they will one day ‘make it’ while knowing in the pits of their stomachs that they will not, or both.
In the case of ‘Myspace’, it turns out I was quite correct, except in that I did not account for the large number of people trying to sell pornography while disguised as fun seeking young ladies with Myspace pages.
‘Facebook’, however, has proved to be quite surprising. It has unexpectedly connected to a whole host of old friends, schoolmates, fans of my writing, ex-girlfriends, ex-girlfriends who want to kill me, parole officers, former cellmates, bail bondsmen, ex-girlfriends who turn out to no longer be girls, the occasional Mexican dwarf I left to die after we collided with that coast guard boat (sorry, Raoul), and ex-girlfriends who turn out not to have been girls at the time I knew them.
It is also the source of a number of pervasive Memes I have not bothered to exploit for cheap laughs.
To put an end to that, I reprint a list which I have already posted on Facebook, an act I justify by the preceding paragraphs, which can only be found right here at I-Mockery.com. That makes this a ‘variant’ and thus more valuable to collectors. Take note, Raoul, as that’s all you’ll get from me... (more...)
Gentle reader, you may have noticed I have been absent more than present recently. In fact, I think I may have begun my last ‘Blog entry’ with similar words, and I’d know if I could be bothered to look it up, which I can’t, though it would be easy as ‘pie’, which ought to give you some idea of how much I ‘care’.
If memory serves, the last time I wrote this sort of introduction, I blamed the decline of my fecundity on ‘difficult’ events that had taken place in my ‘personal life’ that were none of your ‘business’. Since that time several more ‘events’ of a difficult nature have take place that have made me nostalgic for previous unpleasantness, have indeed lent to those previous unpleasantnesses the ruddy glow sometimes associated with the cheeks of happy Sunday School Children. This second set of events are even more none of your business than the first set. For those of you entertaining the notion you know what I am talking about, let me say you are almost certainly misinformed, owing to both your inherent, amiable gullibility, and the wealth of misinformation regarding my circumstances as easily plucked from the internet as village idiots pluck spoiled fruit from beneath trees. Unless you are thinking of reports involving a certain species of Japanese giant salamander and damage to my left testicle, which are for the most part true, except it was my pituitary gland, damage to which turns out to be more crippling, but less funny. (more...)
Follow us on:
Want Your Ad Here?
Send us an email!