You are like GODS to them!
Chris Lansdell
posting to other chatrooms, I came across a startling revelation, one which
scared me to the very core of my being. People in other froups actually
IDOLIZE KIBO!!!111!!1!!!!!!one hundred eleven!!!!!
No seriously. Also, http://web2.airmail.net/thegoat4/life/feb14-2005.html
(not werk-safe)
--
Convention says my name, along with a witticism or poignant quote, should go
here.
Ah well.
Paula
<clan...@nf.sympatico.ca> wrote:
>Yeah, so I'm back and stuff. Having spent an inoridnate amount of time
>posting to other chatrooms, I came across a startling revelation, one which
>scared me to the very core of my being. People in other froups actually
>IDOLIZE KIBO!!!111!!1!!!!!!one hundred eleven!!!!!
That's because they don't know him as well as we do.
--
Paula
"Anyway, other people are weird, but sometimes they have candy, so it's best to try to get along with them." Joe Bay
James Kibo Parry
>
> Yeah, so I'm back and stuff. Having spent an inoridnate amount of time
> posting to other chatrooms, I came across a startling revelation, one which
> scared me to the very core of my being. People in other froups actually
> IDOLIZE KIBO!!!111!!1!!!!!!one hundred eleven!!!!!
I'm sorry, but no matter how hard you try, you won't convince me to go
sing on "American Idol", partly because I refuse to sing on any show
I'd rather shoot myself than watch, but mainly because I'm so tone-deaf
that Her Majesty's government filed an Asbo saying I can never sing
on TV, even though I'm an American and "American Idol" probably isn't
seen on British TV the same way that the new "Doctor Who" isn't seen
on American TV. (And both shows feature singing Daleks.)
> No seriously.
And you know what burns me up? A couple weeks ago I improvised a
thousand words in the style of "Finnegan's Wake", which I've never
read or even pretended to read, and yet nobody commented on my
utter geniusness at spewing out fuh-reeeeeee spuh-eeeee-ach, possibly
because they mistakenly assumed I had an insane ghostwriter, but
more likely because people took my thousand words seriously instead
of pointing and laughing at how great they were. Hey look there's
another one of those rotten old typographical "rivers" here. Anyway
stop looking at the river until after you've absorbed the brilliance
of this reposting of my awesome EFF!-ree ESS!-peech and commented
on my utter wonderfulness. Now I want to see some comments, guys.
/////////////////////////////// ///////////////// RE-RUN BEGINS ///////////
A purple green lemon nougat thing has walls around leftover sherbet.
What sherbet would Bert wart if Bert's warts were wet? Lemon nougat
without drops. Chocolate drops. Turkey balls. Fish flame fell down
the log flume into pantsless Pete's spinning nougat. His nougat's
spinning dizzied dampless pants. Pronto photo lab retriever jingled
Barclaycard's Barclay's beets, sugar sugar, lemon nougat without more
drops. It smells. My favorite letter is "nougat" but word turd not
frequently seen on the silver screen meme cantilevered cantaloupe.
If a cantaloupe, no one can. Whee whee whee whee whee said the
Benny Hill. He died and so can you in cars. Undersecretary pants
command last respects. If purple then lemon not nougat, green walls
with balls of haughty, fa la la la la la la la linoleum, cantaloupe
linoleum, not nougat now. If I get stuck give me a push.
Remote controlled cars are far but faster is liquor. Unhinge, unhinge,
dirigible linoleum with cantaloupe nougat overhanging underhanded Pete.
Where Pete comes in. Never ignore Pete's potential. Him in Jell-O.
Small concern of mine if remote controlled cantaloupe falls on turkey
balls. The turkeys gobble up when the walls fall down, the turkeys
gobble down with a hi-de-ho. Hello, ho! This is all about my nougat.
Smell the smell that favors well the way to tell the sea to sell
the sheets you sell that smell like hell, Pete Benny Bell. Pat
the bunny, I said pat the bunny or go to hell. Rancidities. Langour.
Art and Garfunkel. And and and and. The Fentons' credenza lends a
camphor elegance to flaming nougat turds. Cram it, clown lips.
Particles smaller than nougat can't wake the walls, cannot hear
them all but eat well like a tuba. Eat well like two tubas or don't
tuba at all. Squeeze the tuba from the bottom. Tuba paste goes
in your ear and sounds minty loud. Angry loud, you clod.
The magnetic void of nougat misses the mark when it first comes to
play, with a hey-nonny-hey and balls of linoleum's arty cans. Man.
If I should die before a nougat, I eat the Lord and the fish he bake.
Crispy critters Jell-O the dotted Q, "bouquet" of Q, boo-hoo.
Femtovirus head.
Inner thoughts relaxing in the pool where chocolate drops but can't
flush, by Barclaycard melted in the breeze, dinner burnt by force of
law. Haw law, haw law, haw law, haw law, haw haw doe law, burn the
doe law, law the burn doe, Joe the Don Doe, burn Joe the Don Doe Baker.
Eat God at Joe's.
Tissues and scraps and fish flames in the photo jingler's jungle gyne,
Spirographing across the land of Dairy Clone. A single vowel holds
no water unless wet, and everything is too wet to be wet unless dry.
Dry is a lie.
Scams are tubas that don't play. Eat the tuba, eat the tuba. Tuba on
you. You the tuba, you the nougat, free at last, coupons on Friday.
Dum-da-dum-dum. Book 'em, dictionary. Cranky old world. If eat the
when, wind the walls, blow the balloon with new nougat. Nuclear cat on
the mat! Don't eat the cat!
Sandwiches never lie, never ugnore Pete's retential. Pete has a shoes.
Q and Pete went to the alphabet to buy a woodwich. But she was a badwich.
Lasers for hair and feet for heads, slimy like a rained-out elastic
waste land. Boinggggg! It's Richard Simmons again.
Obviously not. Nobody can. Take my letter away. It's not a Q it's
not a nougat it's blue and not tree. Spank spank spankity flank.
Roooooooooopa vieja! Camisole with butter nougat and no Pete Bunny
and his dots. Stop dotting the T's. Ingle jungle English riding
jungle grime. It's a gas, Dan.
Marie's last resport cancelled all credit curds lax operative, dial
tree to get out. Put on baggy pants and bark. Barking rad. Smamop
top of the topic tree, spam spam look at me. If ever we needed a now,
then we don't need it when. Russell Crowe is an asshole. Masters
and Johnson shine their shoes with love. Love is a tuba of fun
but fun burns the law. Dum-da-dum-dum, Joe Don Friday burned the tar.
Burn the tar in Tarvard Yard, you nard.
If there's a will, there's a wall. There's a wall on. Now is the time
for all good menials to come to the yard in their panties. Spirograph
that to Headquarters, chief. Rigorously wiggle that squiggle through
the land of Dairy Green.
Remote controlled food basters blasting up the lawn, you kids get off
my dinner. Dinner duper dee winner, deedle dee, deedle die. Eat dinner
and die. Manly bannisters fancy canisters lance Armstrong's landing pad
where he left nut. Do the mighty dance.
Rewind, rewind, be hind. Nougat sees where it bleeds but a cat goes
where it knows. Always clean the letterbox. Vowels stick to the roof
of your house. Twerps! Softer and redder but tastes like plastic
because sharp fox can't stop from living the dinner. Never live over
the dinner but under.
Flaxen wared naughties in their canties hell got a snail, look how nobody
eats panties under there. Benny Hill of cantaloupe flame nailed the
headboard to the west wing. Flap flap floppity flap up your uncle Bub.
Wuggity woob woobler goob, smerp smerp spoip gloop gleep cancer,
there's always your answer. Of course it's illegal in your estate.
Cantaberous aspirin and soylent asbestos from the master asbestor poison
the nougat for lax, whence what stopped can't wind racks. Effectually
simmering the slimming Simmons for his snacks, whack whack, don't grow back.
Tongue salad, no nuts. Hands off my arms. Buster you face. Underhandable
evil Maalox a mess. For every action there is area traction. Of course
it's a spasm of a different molar. Core lunt spied on Benny's hollow hill
for the cookies and Keebled it up good.
This was only a tesseract.
///////////////////////////////////////////////// RE-RUN ENDS /////////////
There, see how special I was two weeks ago? And yet not one of you peons
has offered me my own TV show! Not even a lousy game show modelled on
"Match Game '77" except with mock executions! I DEMAND JUSTICE AND THE
HEAD OF CHARLES NELSON REILLY.
-- K.
I want to hurt everybody.
But because I am a nice
person, I channel that
unbelievable rage into
the energy to make my
prose so spectacularly
enjoyable, you dinks.
plorkwort
James "Kibo" Parry <ki...@world.std.com> wrote:
>of pointing and laughing at how great they were. Hey look there's
>another one of those rotten old typographical "rivers" here. Anyway
rivverun, past Scollay Square and Brigham Circle, from swerve of ess to
bend has bee, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to
alt.religion.kibology and Environs.
Sir Kibo, lasso d'amore, fr'over the int_short C, had passen-
jare stamped in the presence of North Angina on this side the scraggy
bad haircut of Morris Minor to welderburn his riddling war; nor had
the dolphin's prehensiliate speeches by the Ohio current flown
black-currant-wards to pirate doubloons that were driving me nuts, arr,
nor avarice from abush bellowed mishegoss; not yet, though venisson after,
did jakobson heidegger burn the stake and kidney pie and get his
ears boxingdaied by the huswife; rot a peck of pickled peppers had Ham
hammered by moonline (bareredarrdaferrrfdfgghththlupppprerrrrrggg
kkkkkrrrerrdfdsfsfssdererere3434kll2!11!) ere here he heard her hard
tumptytumtoes.
plorkwort. (I know, Jorn does this better than me)
--
A girl and a boy bump into each other -- surely an accident.
A girl and a boy bump and her handkerchief drops -- surely another accident.
But when a girl gives a boy a dead squid -- *that had to mean something*.
-- S. Morganstern, "The Silent Gondoliers"
David DeLaney
>James "Kibo" Parry <ki...@world.std.com> wrote:
>>of pointing and laughing at how great they were. Hey look there's
>>another one of those rotten old typographical "rivers" here. Anyway
>>A purple green lemon nougat thing has walls around leftover sherbet.
Which I commented on the FIRST one of, but apparently Google is eating my
posts again or something.
>rivverun, past Scollay Square and Brigham Circle, from swerve of ess to
>bend has bee, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to
>alt.religion.kibology and Environs.
>
>Sir Kibo, lasso d'amore, fr'over the int_short C, had passen-
>jare stamped in the presence of North Angina on this side the scraggy
>bad haircut of Morris Minor to welderburn his riddling war; nor had
>the dolphin's prehensiliate speeches by the Ohio current flown
>black-currant-wards to pirate doubloons that were driving me nuts, arr,
>nor avarice from abush bellowed mishegoss; not yet, though venisson after,
>did jakobson heidegger burn the stake and kidney pie and get his
>ears boxingdaied by the huswife; rot a peck of pickled peppers had Ham
>hammered by moonline (bareredarrdaferrrfdfgghththlupppprerrrrrggg
>kkkkkrrrerrdfdsfsfssdererere3434kll2!11!) ere here he heard her hard
>tumptytumtoes.
<flicks lighter>
>plorkwort. (I know, Jorn does this better than me)
Only because he's DEAD and thus can sit around for hundreds of years
improving his prose every week or two. If I did Wikipediaing, I'd put your
effort under the definition of ROXXORZ.
Dave
--
\/David DeLaney posting from d...@vic.com "It's not the pot that grows the flower
It's not the clock that slows the hour The definition's plain for anyone to see
Love is all it takes to make a family" - R&P. VISUALIZE HAPPYNET VRbeable<BLINK>
http://www.vic.com/~dbd/ - net.legends FAQ & Magic / I WUV you in all CAPS! --K.
Joseph Michael Bay
>And you know what burns me up? A couple weeks ago I improvised a
>thousand words in the style of "Finnegan's Wake", which I've never
>read or even pretended to read, and yet nobody commented on my
>utter geniusness at spewing out fuh-reeeeeee spuh-eeeee-ach, possibly
>because they mistakenly assumed I had an insane ghostwriter, but
>more likely because people took my thousand words seriously instead
>of pointing and laughing at how great they were. Hey look there's
>another one of those rotten old typographical "rivers" here. Anyway
>stop looking at the river until after you've absorbed the brilliance
>of this reposting of my awesome EFF!-ree ESS!-peech and commented
>on my utter wonderfulness. Now I want to see some comments, guys.
>/////////////////////////////// ///////////////// RE-RUN BEGINS ///////////
>A purple green lemon nougat thing has walls around leftover sherbet.
>What sherbet would Bert wart if Bert's warts were wet? Lemon nougat
>without drops. Chocolate drops. Turkey balls. Fish flame fell down
>the log flume into pantsless Pete's spinning nougat. His nougat's
>spinning dizzied dampless pants. Pronto photo lab retriever jingled
>Barclaycard's Barclay's beets, sugar sugar, lemon nougat without more
>drops. It smells. My favorite letter is "nougat" but word turd not
>frequently seen on the silver screen meme cantilevered cantaloupe.
A few years ago it would have been Joycean, but now it's sort of
like what you get when your search terms have been co-opted by
those guys who make slightly pornographic web pages that open up
zillions of pop-ups (or try to, anyway) and have all this invisible
text that's like:
slowly she lowered her nougat helmet danger danger onto his throbbing
nougat helmet danger danger. Annie turned around and said "nougat
helmet danger danger", ignoring the lesbians who were downloading
free nougat helmet danger danger. Looking for free nougat helmet
danger danger they booked a hotel in nougat helmet danger danger
--
Chimes peal joy. Bah. Joseph Michael Bay
Icy colon barge Cancer Biology
Frosty divine Saturn Stanford University
By reading this line you agree that I am quite handsome indeed.
James Kibo Parry
>
> James "Kibo" Parry (ki...@world.std.com) wrote:
> >
> > And you know what burns me up? A couple weeks ago I improvised a
> > thousand words in the style of "Finnegan's Wake", which I've never
> > read or even pretended to read, and yet nobody commented on my
>
> A few years ago it would have been Joycean, but now it's sort of
> like what you get when your search terms have been co-opted by
> those guys who make slightly pornographic web pages that open up
> zillions of pop-ups (or try to, anyway) and have all this invisible
> text that's like:
>
> slowly she lowered her nougat helmet danger danger onto his throbbing
> nougat helmet danger danger. Annie turned around and said "nougat
> helmet danger danger", ignoring the lesbians who were downloading
> free nougat helmet danger danger. Looking for free nougat helmet
> danger danger they booked a hotel in nougat helmet danger danger
Yes, but see, my point was that I made it up and wrote it all by myself
without any assistance from either Google or knowledge of James Joyce,
which makes me smarter than Google plus James Joyce. I'm even smarter
than a network of 10^100 James Joyces (each drunker than the last.)
And I improvised it at the drop of a hat on a dare in a short period
for no financial gain, which makes me even more better than James Joyce
because he got paid for whatever the hell that stuff he wrote was,
and he spent his whole life doing it, while merely posted it and then
went out to the supermarket or something like a normal, well-adjusted
super-genius who doesn't dwell on his own incredible genius would do.
Also, I can tell which one of Spock! Must! Die! simply by looking at
them, given that every fifteen seconds Regular Spock raises his _right_
eyebrow to express utter befuddlement at even the simplest events around
him. Presumably this means that Evil Reflected Spock would lower his
left eyebrow. Also his ears would be less pointy than a human's.
And he'd be played by Martin Landau. And pronounce his name "kcopS".
And be in "Star Wars". And people would demand that nerds write more
fan-fiction about him having heterosexual sex with Mary Sue.
So you see, I'm smarter than James Joyce, Google, and Spock combined,
not to mention handsomer than any giant blob of two people fused with
one computer network.
-- K.
Also, the Nougat Helmet
Danger Danger is a
legitimate sexual technique,
not that you'll ever get
past a Bent Twizzler.
Wiblur the Once
29040506...@10.0.1.2:
> I'm so tone-deaf
> that Her Majesty's government filed an Asbo saying I can never sing
> on TV,
That shouldn't stop you. My father was completely tone deaf, but had a
serious case of enjoying to singing. (He also actually enjoyed the
(alleged) singing of Slim Whitman.
Going to church with him was both entertaining and painful. He would
belt out the hymns, but being somewhat handicapped as far as intonation,
key and other such musical concepts, he would randomly raise and lower
the note-age according to whim and his internal random note generator.
However, he was very enthusiastic (i.e. loud).
No wonder I ended up listening to Captain Beefheart and enjoying the
Noisefest CDs that Talysman sent me a while back.
--
"...The job is to seek mystery, evoke mystery, plant a garden in which
strange plants grow and mysteries bloom. The need for mystery is greater
than the need for an answer." - Ken Kesey
http://www.aros.net/~jchapman - The Wiblovian Institute of Kibology
Joseph Michael Bay
>No wonder I ended up listening to Captain Beefheart and enjoying the
>Noisefest CDs that Talysman sent me a while back.
Hey, are you aware of "Improvised and otherwise"? They
are cunningly hidden at improvisedandotherwised.com and
it's really good for people who are into that sort of thing,
as Yogi Berra would have said if he were a reviewer of
experimental music and such.
Also I think it's in Brooklyn, which is where my mom
grew up, so if you say anything bad about it my mom will
kick you in the nuts, I think.
Wiblur the Once
@news.Stanford.EDU:
> Hey, are you aware of "Improvised and otherwise"? They
> are cunningly hidden at improvisedandotherwised.com and
> it's really good for people who are into that sort of thing,
> as Yogi Berra would have said if he were a reviewer of
> experimental music and such.
http://www.improvisedandotherwise.com/
IFYPFY
Also, thanks for hipping me to that fest. It sounds like much fun.
Bryce Utting
> rivverun, past Scollay Square and Brigham Circle, from swerve of ess to
> bend has bee, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to
> alt.religion.kibology and Environs.
[ alt.religion.kibology.environs. ISAGN. ]
> Sir Kibo, lasso d'amore, fr'over the int_short C, had passen-
> jare stamped in the presence of North Angina on this side the scraggy
> bad haircut of Morris Minor to welderburn his riddling war; nor had
> the dolphin's prehensiliate speeches by the Ohio current flown
> black-currant-wards to pirate doubloons that were driving me nuts, arr,
> nor avarice from abush bellowed mishegoss; not yet, though venisson after,
> did jakobson heidegger burn the stake and kidney pie and get his
> ears boxingdaied by the huswife; rot a peck of pickled peppers had Ham
> hammered by moonline (bareredarrdaferrrfdfgghththlupppprerrrrrggg
> kkkkkrrrerrdfdsfsfssdererere3434kll2!11!) ere here he heard her hard
> tumptytumtoes.
Stay us, should wee or flee. A stayed staid stayceplayce of leather
and laids, where posted be are all funicky punchlike puntish, punkwood
pontics over with wills and wilks proper, muddy sated satyrs
underpont, among them goatish Aigipan (for want of Caprihorn) in the
aegis of old Tale trolled. And others, years before and hence, they
say, per noncenames and songs and rumours all higgledypiggledy caught
with luresome barbhooks (O! deliciousdesiredness irresisted) and
miscarded, many, past, now, and forever, falling falling downrounvoid
bottomless nullending tumblescorn pointerchase even today unwitting.
For want of clemency or clamworm, the new unde-sired cloofish
clamatory was cast without, wherewithwith clanjamphrey he fell
barerump Badump! amongst fellows unshipped and scorened.
butting
TMG
Wiblur the Once wrote:
> ki...@world.std.com (James "Kibo" Parry) wrote in news:kibo-
> 29040506...@10.0.1.2:
>
>
>>I'm so tone-deaf
>>that Her Majesty's government filed an Asbo saying I can never sing
>>on TV,
>
>
> That shouldn't stop you. My father was completely tone deaf, but had a
> serious case of enjoying to singing. (He also actually enjoyed the
> (alleged) singing of Slim Whitman.
>
> Going to church with him was both entertaining and painful. He would
> belt out the hymns, but being somewhat handicapped as far as intonation,
> key and other such musical concepts, he would randomly raise and lower
> the note-age according to whim and his internal random note generator.
> However, he was very enthusiastic (i.e. loud).
>
> No wonder I ended up listening to Captain Beefheart and enjoying the
> Noisefest CDs that Talysman sent me a while back.
My uncle is (seemingly) the only soul in Wales that doesn't have an
angelic voice. He means well, and certainly has the spirit - but the
larynx be lacking.
The good hearted people in his chapel have made him a rector, and now he
has other duties during the actual service. They still welcome him for
twice weekly choir practice - but he needs to be elsewhere during the
service.
A real win-win.
Bryce Utting
>>>I'm so tone-deaf
>>>that Her Majesty's government filed an Asbo saying I can never sing
>>>on TV,
>>
>> belt out the hymns, but being somewhat handicapped as far as intonation,
>> key and other such musical concepts, he would randomly raise and lower
>> the note-age according to whim and his internal random note generator.
>> However, he was very enthusiastic (i.e. loud).
>
> has other duties during the actual service. They still welcome him for
> twice weekly choir practice - but he needs to be elsewhere during the
> service.
oh yeah? well, way back when I was an undergrad, I got kicked out of
a -capping revue chorus line-.
"... look, just stand at the back and move your mouth, okay? Don't
actually -sing-."
"(Have we ever done that before? Ever?)"
"(Nope. 's a first. Don't tell him.)"
"I've set a record? WOOHOO!!!!"
(an entirely made up exchange demonstrating that to go with my lousy
voice I've got excellent hearing.)
also, we had a skit where we needed me to sing badly. opening night,
I sang. second night, they asked me please, please, PLEASE FOR THE
LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY AND DECENT, don't sing. ever.
bastids.
butting
TMG
<snip>
> oh yeah? well, way back when I was an undergrad, I got kicked out of
> a -capping revue chorus line-.
<snip>
> PLEASE FOR THE
> LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY AND DECENT, don't sing. ever.
>
> bastids.
>
>
> butting
Maybe you need to join the choir in Llanidloes. You can stand next to my
uncle during practice, and they'll find something else for you to do
during the actual service.