Hearty chaw: The lectures that co-created Kauffman's Investigations.
& a SciAm interview from earlier this year
Today in Slate appear'd the Final News Quiz.
I point at a glass-- I expect it to fill. Are you going to excel? I can't believe my head is real. It mustn't be. I haven't been told even once. Now it's time to imitate Charles IV, who had more carpets than he knew how to lie. Tray mysterioo! Let's play charades with them: [whispering] Oliver North, on a bicycle, trailing "Just Married" soup cans. Act influential. Indubitably I won't remember either.
A Czeckish ansoo to a cotton hand is a lip prevailing over cottonland. A turkey bird failing in the sink is vanishing in a blink. The turkey got caught up in a million toothpaste vowels, but in the end the electors knew, in their hearts and hearts a-plenty (which is what electors've got!), that the turkey (Tommy -- see below) is a real spate of Checkomocko answers. Tommy turkey's got a face, but has it ever done him any good? He'll never know. Time would tell, if time ever told anything. Which it hasn't.
Add a stingy comment to the grape-blasting hog: the wait-a-second folks for a 28.8 minute freeze-up are trundling on up his spine.... Welcome to the apocrypha. I hope it seems like a corpse. Especially to the goths. I hear that a Russian ended up here yesterday (today?) looking for pictures of a flea (searched Google for "chili nude"). Well, what can I say, there's certain ways of looking at a spool of adding-machine tape, where it seems to be coming at one. Pardon me Liza, there's light on my toes. It's cut with a stylus, you know, but that's okay.
Stu Kauffman (as his friends call him) has a new book out. ... he presents four candidate laws to explain how autonomous agents co-create their biosphere and the startling idea of a "co-creating" cosmos. Hmmm, "co-creating" -- "co-originating"?
Candidates giving or purchasing liquor on election day prohibited. It shall be unlawful for a candidate for office or for nomination thereto whose name appears upon the ballot at any election to give to or purchase for another person, not a member of his or her family, any liquor in or upon any premises licensed by the state for the sale of any such liquor by the drink during the hours that the polls are open on the day of such election.
RECOLLECTIONS OF CORN
I rubbed my fingers together to see if it was sweet corn cream, or just water. It was so cold inside I couldn't tell by touch alone. [turned out to be water -- Ed.]
She cut open the pigeon's throat. "Rocks," I said. "Corn," she said.
I watched the old man chewing an old grain of corn and realized the old train was definitely going to arrive momentarily.
all searches from current reflog:
turducken -recipe -turducken.net -mp3 -recordings
the righthand column of SCRUMPAX ON THE OHIFLO
It's mangy pickins, Mistah Beenz.
Whatsa matta, Mistah Beenz, ya git milk up ya snoota?
Mistah Beenz, ya ... shit. My gunna hafta bullfrog ya?
Compelled as one is
to give one more for one's
money, Baron Celsius comes with
a flute out of his recent stateliness
to cheer the gourds to victory
and wipe the weasel blurb away,
to tramp down ethereal
biways a chomskelly scudding
clod of mischief booming
out the skeletal farsis,
making for a heathen's landing
with wife, kids, and honest edge,
failing to support a compilation
(awful) upon the scene,
baking roach-cakes without butter.
The Baron falls into the trap:
can you? It's outside the glass,
it comes by once in a blue hedgehog,
over the smashed hedgehog glands,
sponsoring hedgehog racers,
debating with contentious hedgehogs,
hedging the hog on a breakdancing law.
the witching hour
Nov. means a ridiculous one
NOW YOU'RE COOKIN' ... WITH GAS!
Old Farmer Macdonald, who claimed to have "learned to love to live and learn, and learned to live and learn to love" but was called by the family goat an "E I Onanist", explained to a dag-blamed shrimp lamb and a mute turkey his philosophy of humanity: "A human person is like a jungle tree, its processes extending above and below the paradoxically broad bottleneck of the trunk, meshed, and in fantasy joined at infinitesimal junctions, with the millions of other species of trees-- do you see what I'm getting at, Tommy?" The mute turkey wobbled gobblelessly. The dag-blamed shrimp lamb bleated feebly. Old Farmer Macdonald shook his head and wept tears into earth that would later yield only bare brambles.
Alouine oudé, from the Phrench:
an egg souffle in operatic britches,
in a focal soup of stretched ranges,
disperses beyond the foyer's limits...
they long for the wine,
the State appears at the foot of a gargoyle...
I've descended through the carcass
of the epoch indicted by a convex glass...
the bread bombs and contoured sophistries,
billiards bracketing my sleep,
a damp heat seeping from the central hamburger of my nascence...
the verifying vehicle gazes on the great effaced route
FOR TODAY'S HOLLOWEEN TEPIDOSE, IT'S A GHOST STORY ... A GHOST STORY FROM HELL!!!
told they're utterly unlike people,
they keep up stapled bellies,
pants ------ pants don't matter, for they stick in the barn, come on you lousy sucker. How much is it a matter of technology? Ask Mr Owl. The world may never know. How---I've never been so good at the engine circle--so much for having learnt anything in Tucson. Thank you for leaving a few bills to chaggo chaggo.
Well did ja ever read that G R,
down in streptococcus town?
Say did ja ever read that G R,
down in mean ol streptococcus town?
cause the fighting newton's lightning
gonna buy anoita roun!!!
If the suckas an the garfish
welch divining this a time
well if the suckas an the garfish
is up divining this a time
gonna take to a four dolla penny
gonna drink a crate of lime
a robut puts its camera up her skirt
another leaps around a pseudo pen., ttttt-
maybe a postman bumps into a hot car,
the the alarm goes off,
the period of the sound shifts in his mind,
It's part of the transfinite transferability of the r and w, the transchangement of r and w.
make it new! to be frank
it's I want that new package,
yuzgetaine a peckidge foah me, aincjou, mistah
postman, mistah card-dealer???
the beachfront property of Yuzgetaine.
something sombre, something spiffing
that stuff about the postman, it takes place at our beachfront property at Yuzgetaine. The policeman however, nocked nonce. Cat chews his foot, kicks his chin and dust all over the station
heard the NPR Love Supreme feature [here I think but haven't listened]-- They talk to McCoy Tyner, and the head of the Saint John Coltrane African Orthodox Church, who points out that Coltrane's liner notes line up with the music of the final segment of the suite (hint: you have to start with the title "A Love Supreme")
chain boomed oak momma rocks maudlintown
loan the cracker bitch a monkey that'll scoot
the licky lets witches croak
Circe, I get rinkydoke the all I damn first flik fick
puear woondered bout
Suear wndered bout your zis loxation
When bemoan'd our bored oax mowed Load
loan the biker grat the you musky ox torsion
dear, lady-lix, whipped crone
and calcified oxipital regimes
could never tax the spleet out of the dake
and po po po po po po po po pox
is splenoid. Is splendid, fantastix, rad!
And a wholsox stoat of other things.
A bog from the novel set in Lobstercorxlake.
had a great time at the salt tox
had to get a pennythroax in the salt lake
foux a sand dollar at the salt lake
Xanax torque forks an ass: Capitapetels
a domesticated edition of a prveionas:
SOME SWEET ITALIAN ATROCITIES
Can you see already everlasting light in my awaiting extremity of ethereal triumph?
If Univathe and the Bafflece are against the toothy anywho official, as yeoman Hero Alteus (the sore cone template effendi) once out-eunuched the Shah at the annunciation of an uneducablebodied pauper (the bellwether fellaw) and smelled the then African fibrous eunuch while unearthening his ear by elision, then where would the said messieurs cleave and arrange my lop-eared camel into segments for the construction of alkaloid minarets on Al Ternat, also called "Him Pith Two"?
Where would they rally the evaporated hordes, with the shakes of an "Uncle Adam", and launch Lethes of cigarettes between Li and Yi to land where Yav is?
Where would they hem in a can of Kabiscite with bee mucus and other Ratañujo forces that heave lariats at my Lu Pao stallion?
What can we expect of that damn briny grief-bringer, the Shah, troll-like native he has been, if he don't reach and itch the hand he held when that cohortable Fect-Herare, Inrike Anamentou, hurled beefy potions at the True Cross's ribbed rappelling God?
The men minced themselves when Sion's student Nathan lay in a coma; meyouically he could feel, could say, "Gux cut," and sit forever while the morality of my relatives, Ueri Thisow, made his large-ass steady way between feelings gotten of wine kegs and Inrike's payola.
Will halogen, my Inrike, will halogen and the rough world wait on the legisligature as gas-happy, eructatively, we hearken to Holism?
They sent me scampering up the great redwood,
Farmer John below over a megaphone crooning,
"Can you see-- the heat-- closin' in?" and I looked around,
shouting down, "Nothing," for miles. I had to
hoist the pyroscope to my perch.
I removed its cap, adjusted the focus for twenty,
and took a spy around the canopy.
Turned out there was fire throughout the forest,
hidden below the pine pillows clustered,
in the veins of the trees, in worms,
in elephants' discarded tusks.
I smashed my head hard on the bench, and I smashed it again, and I smashed it again.
Say a wooden strawberry were to pass through my head, quickly, rupturing everything, or slowly, the tissue mending in its wake, but either way leaving no residue: it could still be certained out who shot the JFK.
July of eighty fifty sixty, the Daniel Oberon legal suite proves to Missus Attorney Regular that beveled adages stand in staunch revelry of certaining-out legal personas related to the Juan Feis-Geraldo Gennadye Whatsisnameovski portfolio caper, with polio or pollo added as a side-measure. It Goes Upretorted. It's a Karnatic Kaper for the Kockbiter Kops to figure out, too. Just when they thought something was up, it comes out with a rounding edible basemanship finding. Those beveled adages, they get you in the karmic half. The karmic half of virtue. This is to say, put it out in public where nobody can hear it.
Due to the disme respons to the secret sponsor's paper offer, it is revoked and (half) the matter is posted here-on, for maximal delectible materialist purposes, which is probably poor dunking, but what do I care? The other half, it couldn't be realised in [s -- Ed.]itchaway:
Mafol Laput, Sr. Addresses the Assembly of Gods
Can you see already everlasting light in my awaiting extremity of ethereal triumph?
If Univathe and the Bafflece are against the toothy anywho official,
as yeoman Hero Alteus (the sore cone template effendi) once
out-eunuched the Shah at the annunciation of an uneducablebodied pauper
(the bellwether fellaw) and smelled the then African fibrous eunuch while
unearthening his ear by elision,
where would set cleaver to and arrange my eloping camel
into segments for alkaloid minarets on Al Ternat, also called "Him Pith Two"?
Where would they rally the evaporated hordes, with the shakes of an "Uncle Adam",
and launch Lethes of cigarettes between Li and Yi to land where Yav is?
Where would they hem in a can of Kabiscite with bee mucus and other Ratuljatto forces
that at my Lu Pao stallion heaved lariats? I can thank that damn Shah,
troll-like native he has been his life, with his wife and whatall, his knife, causing strife, bringing briny grief,
if he don't reach and itch the hand he held when that cohortable Fect-Herare,
Inrike Anamentou, hurled beefy potions at the True Cross's ribbed rappelling God.
The men minced themselves when Sion's student Nathan lay in a coma.
Meayouically he could feel, could say, "Gux cut," and sit forever while the morality of my relatives,
Ueri Thisow, made his large-ass steady way between feelings gotten of wine kegs and Inrike's payola.
Will halogen, my Inrike, will halogen and the rough world wait on the legisligature as gas-happy,
eructatively, we hearken to Holism? Inrike himself befiends Mafol Laput, Sr. ["bethou me, bethou me" -- Ed.]
I achieved a great progress in the way I perceived the turkey filling the crust.
The turkey took on a life of its own. It lived in the bread, and filled it out.
The cheese that met the turkey at a dance loved the turkey, and thrived with it.
The turkey tasted almost acrid, but met the mouth halfway,
and established a kingdom of kindness.
Squealing hollywood away
Through the grinding gills I've thrown
Over for a melting craw
Oust the pawn shaped bicycle
Veldt and uncle housing too
The ancient heels of west a bray
The buns in shaved hung silence and
Shitting beans is Mars a man
Waddling braves and sulfur bricks
Abrade a stone scowl's facial tics
Caught in shovels digging proof
View askance the griping buns
How's the scratch on malted man
Feel a sickle arc the fleck
Shine the keel of smoking spike
I parched the smoke coat through a flute
Finding first a crack at buns
A scotch pinched parlor taipei crew
Parsing shekels three by four
Doffed a pursed horse photograph
Scallions boast the opposite store
Belted birds the pessimists
I set the toucan flaming out
Again upon stromatolites
A beer stung beagle is the whore
Astrologized the parking slots
The moat stretched through the overload
Tugging leads the girl flea steps
Down the seagull apertures
Sweetened flues are airplane's roots
Caches full of ripened pulse
Drape apart the starlit buns
Annunint Punlication of! [again:
"A Trench Mystic in Vierpam May 1938 a Multimedia Donkey"
including: "A Trench Mystic in Vierpam" and "Mafol Laput, Sr. Addresses the Assembly of Gods" and "Scrumpax on the Ohiflo" and "Gals of Declared Equipage" all higly regarded pieces of redoubtable folk authorship, guaranteed to smakk you daddly.
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Better too, w/ no backtalk! Juts out like a cream car like on the telly!
Godamnit go godman fumcing hell! I thought whether my panini aw burning or somtheng? And tore the living livewiring fuck out of my nice headwphonse, the wires popped pulled the fuck out of the head sockets?? Dammit, right in the middle of European Son, too
The best POKey?
There's some of that real gogetter dagmar_chili spirit floating about, touching on this or that:
her't It Cool here
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www.aint-it-cool-news.com/ - 28k - Cached
The goodle smack that snapped the plank over the twohundred thousand dock ("GASBLASTER") has sudden-sudden snapped up another number, making: Three.
an' i Yam chocking chansessss!
ssss! an' i Yaven't got me moufup!
pan a chocky sloven footerrrrrrr!
rrrr! shoking hema-wochsen!
Howdy there Gerald and Darlene, good to see you agan. Din't that Mahoment cut off like his arm to feed his cat? "Fortue to day : Hear women cut off singing while you wiping yer mouse trap. Your rectal aperture I mean." --the Shikantaza Kid, why not cuz sinct we kin misuse 'zen' and 'satori' up the north pole?? Fuck them, eheh? heh. Heh heh heheheheheheh!! Snortch
this serves as a notice not a real entry]The pay load's deliverance went off with out a hitch. The day was green. If you got here via Vierpam, very congratulating toward you! If you do not live on Mt Shasta, you can order your own copy of "A Trench Mystic in Vierpam: May 1938 a Multimedia Document About" from knock a garage. 2 to 5 pages, let's go]
Arcomyedezschoffsky[*!]!! Using modern technology to uncover ancient secrets!!!
misses the pointcompletely.
|||anyone who has scritinized, scientotated, or mathematized successfully will understand that painting instantly.
Maxed out on scruples*
* Not I, not I-- I made a raisin bran paper contraption. Was I talking about raisins? Oh yeah, raisins-of-the-ether. What's your raisin-of-the-ether? Mine is E I O.
--The Vlasic Stork
Second Note: that wasn't one of those poor, forked-tongue puns.
"Yours: look: it's shriveled!"
"Docent mater: whither he will or whither he won't!"
Maq n cheez incident @ th Y2K canal!
"Tradition!"-- said Floorissa Smolensk, cupboard cruiser, serachin for froots N vejtibbles N snakzmikzes, at the house of One Tne Mlone. Tone Malone. But, "Howdy howdy howdy"-- the CD was skipping, "Howdy howdy howdy howdy howdy" said What Was It Again? and a scholium (a little one) intercedes here, deliberating over sketzchkes of pines: "Anapis apeptis| apeptis?" Yea, "virago" verily, uh betides a claret sometimes outside a Houston? Maq n cheez? Floorissa makes it a spousage for Onetne, pavisade, whatsa pavis? Okay. He must have hauled up that pavisade to keep out the maq n cheez. She was throwing it at him. Bad spousage! It clogged up the CD player, tho.