Is it dada?

Admission!

This dinosaur of a champion has a time-honored bone eater to replace his can. Every fifth invention receives bigger bonuses due to the inflation we see fit to grow faster and quicker. Roses have grown in your honor and we know why. It’s how the runners stop in time to feed the grass. Right now, someone can hear another one chopping an onion. Chop! Chop! It doesn’t take much to imagine someone’s eyes watering from the seething edges of a freshly cut onion. I myself prefer the leek, that underrated vegetable growing so nearby.

I had asked for your attention prior, but apparently you had lent it to a flea-bitten mutt. Dogs have too much of everyone’s attention anyway. I find them disturbing my peaceful sleep and dirtying my neighbor’s lawn. Your attention had been asked by me for reasons unknown to you and most of the royal court. Now it is time for me to uncover that reason in a poem.

Slither, slither, a snail in a snake
Just how long to the tail will it take?

Yes, misters. I’ve witnessed a snake devour a whole snail, but this was no ordinary situation. You see, I wasn’t in my garden or any garden FOR THAT MATTER. The snake had somehow acquired bipedal locomotion (don’t ask me how) and went into a French Restaurant. That bizarre scene caused me too to become a connoisseur of that very restaurant. The snake orders a plate of snail…one snail…just one snail. And I must add that the gastropod was still living and breathing when the snake gormandized it. The Gormandized Gastropod: oh, how I say what a riot it was. Just then I started worrying about the poor snail and how he would meet his end.

Thank for your persnicketiness! And watch out for the wicked for they shall pick at your bones.


Artlessly,

Margrave Rachel Sedgewick

Lady's Angelic Men

Berthold Dalyrimple, a stockholder in several of the world’s leading fish markets.

Gordon Trask, inventor of superpolymer 171 and mountain bicycle race champion of the world in 1991 and 1996.

Ernest Hennington, all around relaxed man who happened to save 7 POWs from Vietnamese and Lebanese prison camps in the early 1980s.

These are the 3 men “Lady” has deemed “Angelic,” but only one of these titled men may share a bed with “Lady.” We now urge you citizens of New England and the North Atlantic region of the United States to assist her in such a matrimonial decision.

Please fill out the following (brief) form:
I, _____________, from _________, __ have decided that Angelic Man, _________, is the right man to lay down with “Lady” because of the following 3 small reasons. 1)__________, 2)___________, 3)_________
And one more lengthy reason with a minimum word count of 250. (attach the pages).
I have made the decisions rightly because my background is a highly reputable one.
For example, I go to church __ times a month.
In my prayers, I included such people in my prayers.
1)____________
2)____________
3)____________
4)____________ and other people close to my heart.
Of all the human virtues, I consider the top two attributes to be the most enduring:
1)_______________ & 2)________________
___% of my income is put towards charity per ___day(s)
Besides God, Jesus Christ, and all the Saints, I find the following historical figures to be the most upright in our world’s history: 1)_____________, 2)_____________
3)_______________, 4)_____________
My most treasured material possession in my house is __________ because _________________________.

Advertising for RC

Whether you're up or whether you're down
It's a good time to drink some Royal Crown

If you're from the city or out of town
It's about time for some Royal Crown

If you can't fit into your wedding gown
Relax and taste refreshing Royal Crown

If you're feeling serious or like a clown
Double the intensity with Royal Crown

If you're skin color is white, black, or brown
The right drink for you is Royal Crown

Question: What is an example of a proper noun?
Answer: The name of the beverage Royal Crown.

Coke and Pepsi will make you drown
Not like the fabulous Royal Crown

The False Rhymes...
If you can't afford to gain another pound
Have a little sip of Royal Crown

When you find yourself thirst-quenching bound
Drink yourself silly with a liter of Royal Crown

If the key to your happiness hasn't been found
That means you've never tried our Royal Crown

What's the cola with the fizziest sound?
It's RC, also known as Royal Crown

Don't drink water like your hound
Be a human and drink Royal Crown

Do you know how your friend unwound?
She enjoyed 8 ounces of Royal Crown.

What's that drink that making rounds?
It's bottle after bottle or Royal Crowns.

When you find yourself on the pitcher's mound
Throw a strike after drinking Royal Crown.

What's that pirate got hidden underground?
It's a treasure chest full of Royal Crown.

Do you know why you friend has frowned?
You finished off her last Royal Crown.

New Japanese Planets

Radio House Kingdom
in connection with…
The National Telescopic Astronomy Administration
funded by NHK and NTT
have jointly discovered 14 new planets outside our Japanese solar system

Planet One is New Tokyo with the highest real estate in the universe
Planet Two is The Planet that Says Ni! Because Ni means Two in Japanese
Planet Three was lost when Okabe-san bumped into the telescope
(it will soon be located under ExxonMobil funding though,
so please visit their homepage at www.killearth.com)
Planet Four is already inhabited by dogs. We’re waiting for a suitable name for that planet.
Planet Five was claimed by Pink Floyd and David Bowie to hold their new recording studio
Planet Six is so close to Planet Seven that we don’t know which is which
Planet Six will be the only planet in which racism will be encouraged
Planet Seven is where Earth will store all its toxic waste
Planet Eight is TOP SECRET c/o US GOVERNMENT
Planet Nine is Hubbell II: The Telesphere
Planet Ten actually is Pluto (we made a mistake)
Planet Eleven is completely made of gold and was found to have the Microsoft logo on it
Planet Twelve is for Japanese tourists only for authenticity’s sake
Planet Thirteen has been deemed Satan’s Lair of Doom by the Roman Catholic Church
Planet Fourteen is the last planet found so we don’t have enough information on it yet

People Who Have Upset the Apple Cart...

Eat meat at night
Drink champagne in the daylight
Play mind games with children
Sing to marigolds between their toes
Call late at night just to say “Hello”
Roll the dice sideways
Stand on their heads
Duke it out on Sundays
Call “lunch” + “dinner” = “dunch” or “linner”
Use machines towards their own advantage
Ditch their friends for the day’s last train
Tell too many Polish jokes
Bus their own tables
Smoke Lucky Strike cigarettes
Dance naked alone in front of their neighbor’s rose gardens
Dial direct from overseas
Smell like pine tree sap

The International Museum of Garbage and Sages

The wise man wipes in the garage
No one pays him
Any attention he gets is squandered on refutation
No one pays him
He owes no one
The key to the car unlocks independence
The key to wisdom unclogs the drains
Windshield wipers can solve the problems of obscurity

The Robot's Exhibition, part 7

For every busy shopper in the Mall of America there is a gift certificate the size of a deluxe bite-size Whopper. The shopper with the most coupons can win all the gift certificates if nine and nine never add up to twelve, a yellow twelve with pieces of chocolate surrounding the savory number. Twelves are for sale next to the jugs of ale in the counselor's twisted sense of bail.

The barrister on a banister rejected any illegal reasons to open a discotheque written on a legal pad. He did not know that the place was called THE LEGAL PAD after the barrister's backwards and fiendish scandals involving linen closets and the easy women found inside them. No, they weren't dead. The banister found a way to preserve women's sex appeal, but they had to be stored in linen closets. That's the story written by the journalists from the land of Overhype.

Overhype flashes in the eyes of dullards. Dullards are the people who love living in Overhype. Overhype is the land where it is possible for very small things to create big explosions. The land of Overhype is ruled by the Esquire Enquire and the Sun-Times of the Round Table. Esq. Enquire has the special capability to create any substance from concrete.

The real story behind the barrister on the banister is this: The sexy women volunteered to wait in the linen closets awaiting the butterfly's insectual message. There's nothing true about preserving sex appeal. Those rabble rousers from THE LEGAL PAD will go to the far reaches of the globe, such as the land of Overhype, to find a valid argument for their dancing establishment.

Without hesitation, an anchor detaches itself from the almighty cruise ship and heads for the underworld. This rebellious incident causes the Aluminux to float with the trade winds in the middle of the Atlantic night. Meanwhile the anchor finds the reservoir of other lost anchors joining in a current towards the rupture between the ocean floor and the underworld in the Mid-Atlantic Ridge.

Blue whales and bottle-nosed dolphins stare at the amazement as the procession of lost anchors head into a small fissure in the ridge. The intense heat emanating from the breach keeps the sea creatures distance, but it's not hot enough to keep away the insurgent anchors.

Once the Aluminux anchor marches through, it is amazed to discover a field of ice cream plasma. The surroundings are sweet and blinding because of an unknown source of light remaining a mystery to the renegade anchors. An anchor's realm of perception is very limited. What they cannot perceive is that the source of light is the fugitive eye from Eightron, the largest octopus that ever existed. Eightron could have easily become the King of the Ocean, but it was cursed with the fugitive eye that leads anchors astray. One day a cruise ship will veer so far off course that it will accidentally destroy Eightron, but this octopus has superintelligence. She speeds backward through the seven seas like a frightened lobster. Every living thing clears the way for Eightron, her body easily doubling the size of Bluto, the daddy-o of blue whales.

High above the speeding mass of the blind octopus is Radar Island, a vast desert island containing five thousand satellite dishes, none of them belonging to the superpowers of the globe. The only living being on this island is the hyphenated buffalo. Every morning it melts into a puddle of primordial residue that seeps into the bases of each satellite. The DNA sequence of the hyphenated buffalo is a sequence, which programs the satellites to either receive or transmit information not for the world, but for itself. The hyphenated buffalo's goal is to expand its mental capacity so large that the whole universe will collapse within its cranium.

By the afternoon, the hyphenated buffalo forms back into its hyphenated self to recreate alien viruses that were received as data to Radar Island. The first virus the hyphenated buffalo ever created is in all of us, but it is basically harmless. It makes us blind to the hyphenated buffalo and its island.

The alien races with higher morals than the buffalo and the human race try to stop this scheme, but they are always thwarted to the extent of extinction. The hyphenated buffalo has successfully killed off all aliens with morals greater than its own. It is a wonder that the human race still exists.

The robot's exposition's secret purpose is to eradicate the hyphenated buffalo, but no living thing knows of this scheme. Once the robot has the gentry in high spirits, the buffalo will be in no spirits. As the buffalo's life passes out of its malleable anatomy, then the infinite dimensionality of the universe will also pass away because the robot will unknowingly destroy the continuity of infinity. Things will begin to end and never reappear again. So as all forms of energy try to bail out, the Double-Pope will supply the planet Earth with a very convincingly easy exit.

THE END

The Robot's Exhibition, part 6

In order to proceed as directed by personal respect, the assassination will have to be canceled. Human life has just surpassed the domination of souls as moral order. Long live the pope until further notice.

This is when the robot enters with its plans of an exposition magnetically pressed into laser-accessible circuits. Wires and cords are crisscrossing the plaza of the palace as the robot's arrangement. A sphere of electricity is planned to balloon from the fountain like a soap bubble from a plastic ring. Lords, ladies, dukes, and duchesses from around the planet have been invited to witness the robot's exposition.

A stainless steel framework containing plasma injectors and concentrated tritanium ore will create a structured order of synthetic sound to provide the plaza with magnetic resonance. In the amalgamation of every dimension of time will the images of the robot's exposition be projected.

This creation will be drawing condensed infrared rays from the sun as a source of energy. During the process of this exposition the infrared rays will be reversed and returned to the sun in the form of ultraviolet waves. The consolidated ultraviolet effect will be a reverse of the color spectrum cast from the largest source of light. Green grass will become red and the blue sky orange. Blonde hair turning magenta and everybody's eyes will glow a purplish hue as if in a black light.

Since this mighty fair releases intense heat, industrial size fans will blow across the plaza. The power of these fans is so strong that it could move a heavy-set man off his feet. Aerodynamic bodysuits have been constructed by the robot for the invited gentry. In all this splendor, these people will have the ability to fly.

The exposition would be impossible without the robot and the robot would be impossible without Dr. Harvey Ewald, scholar. Born during the Stuben Comet crash into the moon during a solar eclipse, Ewald was born to break barriers. After inventing the frictionless engine and the first fuel which emits ozone-binding molecules as exhaust, therefore repairing the atmosphere, Dr. Ewald invented the robot who's sole purpose is to put progressive scientific ideas into realities that benefit the humans' need for entertainment.

Today Ewald relaxes in his bungalow in the Bikini Atoll that he raised from the ocean and radioactivity-proofed it with his device, which uses that radioactive energy to clean itself off all matter, and into the device. Inside the device, the radioactive molecules are broken down to power the Bikini Atoll's resort: Ewald's Escape from Entropy.

All the money Ewald makes from his totally beneficial inventions is put forth to entertain the population of the planet. All his endorsed amusements are pumped full of subliminal messages to reduce crime and to stop all habits that destroy one's health. None of these companies refuse Ewald because he has rescued the world from the rot of human entropy, and he is by far the richest man on Earth. No money goes to him only because, "He shares as much as everyone else in the world."

Such a man cannot be stopped unless it is the Double-Pope who stops him. The Double-Pope has spiritual influence over all man-made devices. All thinking power coming out of the human force is supplied by the Double-Pope's agent. Therefore he can inspire the machines, computers, and robots to turn against the inventors since the initial energy source of thoughts are spawned from the beast himself.

The Robot's Exhibition, part 5

The people try to stop the money, but the pressure is too great and the dike is broken by the bribe. Rich runs up the nostrils of Mister and delivers a highbrow consciousness to him. He says, "I am very intelligent," as he looks over the killing floor. Money permeates throughout his pants like an octopus in the ocean. Rich and richer, Mister pays the snails to slaughter the pirates and the alligators to chew up the billboards. Anything is in the pockets of Mister in today's stimulated event.

Mister, the nabob, crawls like a baby to the supermarket and the busy traffic stops. Look at the rich man go! They start to laugh and, within a minute, his motorcade takes him to a farm. Like a fox, Mister robs the eggs right from the chicken but tosses the farmer a vintage coin worth $800.

After he swallows the owl-infested eggs, Mister and his many moneys seem unstoppable, but that's when the wurly-glove touches his ticklish sleep neurons. Mister is sleeping for the next couple of days with a new intention, an intention of impossibilities with subtle conformities to make it catchy and fun.

Red carpets are rolled out in every town because the pope's assassination is scheduled today. Senator Gilbright had the chance to interview the pope last night over a bottle of cream soda and kielbasa. "Let loonies be loonies," was the most important sentence from the Holy See's lips that night. Once the pope is rubbed out, the Antichrist will take the seat of the Vatican. This Antichrist will be disguised as the most powerful Roman Catholic man ever to live; he is called the Double-Pope. This will fool all. Bill Cosby and the Republic of China are the conspirators behind this assassination. It is not execution because the Holy Catholic Church and the United Nations did not officially approve it. Cosby and China have hired the Vice President of the United States of America to carry out the assassination. Here is his speech on this predicament:

"Beware! Citizens of the United States, a predator of each of your souls lurk around the world without restraint. It is time to give this predator the title and power of pope to successfully drain each and every one of you of spiritual power. I, your Vice President, have been chosen to carry out the deed of destroying the present pope. If I am killed afterwards, I will not be able to install the Double-Pope as the usurper. I hereby request that the American Senate fulfill this duty if I do not survive. To hell with Monster Giaour! Precision shall never wither from my mind as I go into the Mediterranean climate and fire the iron-cased olive into the heart of the pope. We, the people of the United States of America shall witness our most favored death and the crumbling of desolate land. I shall now persist as of the Official Assassin of the Pope. Thank you!"

The Double-Pope has come back from witnessing the re-enactment of the crucifixion. He was most deeply honored to be in the presence of a digitally re-mastered savior. Today he stands protected by a powerful Italian family in Milan awaiting the death of the pope. That's all we have for the news. Stay tuned because we will have full coverage of the assassination--live.

The Robot's Exhibition, part 4

Greg Chantorian became a tourist of New York City instantly when he bought a Hawaiian shirt, a camera, and piece of Chew Brother's formaldehyde/Naugahyde-flavored gum. Chew Brothers are not afraid of naming their flavors after the real ingredients. Wrigley denies that any of their gum is made from a combination of formaldehyde and Naugahyde, but all big Chicago companies are famous for denial.

Once Greg had this special gum coagulating in his mouth, it over took his perception of New York. It became a stimulating city, the Empire State Building got pointier and the World Trade Center* budded a third tower slightly taller than the second. The Statue of Liberty switched hands with the torch and document. Chew Brother's formaldehyde/Naugahyde gum in not a hallucinogenic food product. It is a special agent that interacts with physical reality instead of the perceptual reality. Chew Brothers know how to make a very convincing gum.

Greg found this out as New York entertained him more than any other tourist. Other tourists became jealous and hid behind huge billboards only to find waiters of five-star restaurants gathered together in their nudity. "Preservatives?" asked Ewan VanHuewy, a waiter with a nasty birthmark. His question could be interpreted in so many ways. What it really meant was, "It's time to take the elevator to waiter class."

A grain elevator coming down the train tracks nearby delivered an entire course with such precision that it became dangerous. An explosion instantly occurred and then canceled the final result of the explosion, which is a mass number of casualties. Nobody died and that's what fascinated Greg. His jealous tourists remained in life.

"Bravo!" said Greg before he swallowed the gum. DO NOT SWALLOW GUM! It may entertaining to chew but, once swallowed, gum has unexpected results. Mr. Chantorian developed a delusion, a rare delusion, a delusion that is contagious, a delusion involving weightlessness. Greg thought he was floating. As the Big Apple watched Greg pretending to float (although he thought he really was), other New Yorkers got the feeling of floating. They mentally became bubbles helpless in the wind and traffic.

Everyone saw the city of New York get smaller and smaller as they floated towards the stratosphere. This never actually happened, but in the minds of New Yorkers that day it did. Delusions of weightlessness unified the seeds of the Big Apple and a real perception of togetherness fought off the delusion. When hugs began, they noticed that their feet never left the ground. That feeling led to the feeling of being lied to. By the time everyone needed someone to blame, Greg Chantorian was on the expressway to Philadelphia.

Birds hummed escalator tunes, a new kind of muzak. Most birds can whistle elevator tunes, but escalator tunes need to be hummed. For instance, "Majorie's Halfway Shuffle" is hummed with a velvet banana. The bird sits on the banana and hums, not because the fruit is made of a synthetic fiber, but because an escalator tune is reverberating around the auditory realms of the aviary. Yes, the bird hums.

The best compact disc to get, as great escalator music is concerned, is BLAIR'S ELECTRIC STAIRS. "Majorie's Halfway Shuffle" is among the tracks on the disc. The best humming bird to get not a hummingbird but the fissilingual lingbird, the meadow pipit with the forked tongue. The combination of BLAIR'S and the lingbird will create the keenest fete champetre this side of the Bosporus Strait.

Six months later, on the crayon of the cask, lay down Mister. His mustache made from the finest paper bags and his eyes polished like ivory bubbles. A sleeping face like that can beam anyone to the groves. In the many awaken states he experiences, Mister's favorite is the event of the grassation. His wandering intimidates people, and it should. Mister's grassation only carries discontentment and glass satchels though today Mister lies on the crayon of the cask like an impenetrable balloon. Flags of nylon and pylons of rag try to out-shadow the shadow of the resting Mister, but it's of no use. When Mister awakes, he intends to join the nabobs in their hobnobbing.

*This was originally written in 1996 by Dirk Babbage. A 10-year anniversary if you will.

The Robot's Exhibition, part 3

Stopping a stop sign is ironic, but a very dumb thing to actually do. Picture someone like your grandma walking up to the red octagon and saying, "Stop!" Surreal but more half-witted than a piece of avant-garde performance art. The last leg collapsing under a dog is avant-garde, especially if it was a cat playing the role of a dog. All the cat fanciers would dig it.

Illustrations by the Madman interested Mr. Frederix, but when he opened the book he was surprised to see no illustrations at all. Instead he saw infinity and couldn't take his eyes away from it. No one take his or her eyes off infinity. Mr. Frederix lived the rest of his life with the book with the Madman's illustrations dangling just beyond his nose.

The Madman adopted Mr. Frederix as his coat hanger and tipped him a dime every time he hung up a new coat. The Madman always had one coat and it was an old one. Mr. Frederix died a very pitiful death from a pitiful existence. The Madman's books still sell like hotcakes, so he won't have to worry about losing a coat hanger for long.

Mr. and Mrs. Bickens were trapped and now have to support the Madman while he sleeps. They're adopted as beds. Miss Ketchum was adopted as his showerhead, and Mr. Childers as his spoon. The Madman's house is made of adopted people with books dangling off their faces.

In that land, a conveyor belt serves as the highway. It goes down, so far down that you have to shrink to pass through the pores of the earth's crust. Most of the passengers are droplets of rain that will have the privilege of not quenching the earth but visiting the world-renowned Magma Flow of Arachnes. Arachnes is the stingy turtle with the head and neck of a giraffe. She oversees the magma flow and makes sure that the minerals it spews contain something that will screw up humanity's industry.

Cough syrup is the only daily supplement that Arachnes demands. And so the rain droplets make sure to contain some evaporated cough syrup as they enter the spectacular Magma Flow. The steam rises to create a demi-god of new rain droplets. Arachnes' one super power is to give the gift of invincibility to the droplets that bestow evaporated cough syrup. This is why the water cycle never ends.

As the steam pushes the demi-god out of the Magma Flow of Arachnes it finds that the world is hilarious and whispers the secret of the Earth's jocularity to the clouds that then have such a laughing fit that they cry new cough syrup messengers down.

The bit about the clouds is hypothetical. What is known about the clouds is that within their condensed vapor are pieces of sports. A fraction of football was detected in a cumulus about an hour ago. This is why bad weather does not ruin the reception of sports events. Bad weather can only interfere on the game itself and that's if it's played outdoors.

The sports industry is building too many domes. This is because the municipal industries rejected the dome corporation's contract as bad weather protection. One dome company, Good Weather Domes, was near a contract with New York City to provide a unique ventilation system that would rid the town of all air pollution. Top secret government documents intercepted by certain individuals revealed that the reason for rejection was that it would hurt New York's tourism.

The Robot's Exhibition, part 2

The sun made the other stars jealous. This jealousy started a fad in the stellar galaxy. Stars used their light to beam aboard certain anatomical features for their luminescence. Alpha Centauri, the closest star to the Earth, took my best friend's nose. Now we got a bunch of human body parts as large as the world a hundred times over sneezing, winking, and farting at us. I liked the light and I liked the heat, but that's all the stars should have. This new consciousness of stellar life and their jealousy to be human makes the universe a bit unrealistic.

Who's to say what's real? asks a fictional philosopher. A cardboard scientist made by semi-real scientists was programmed to define real. And so it did: "Real is the perception of all unimagined things." Only a thing that can't image can say that. Way to go semi-real scientists!

"Let's paint the moon blood red," said the Revelationaries, a cult that encourages the second coming of Christ and the threat of the Antichrist. They program wars and stir natural disasters as if they were a government agency. The United States, encourager of competition, hated this competition with their war and natural disaster agencies, so they tried to dissolve the Revelationaries by exposing untrue but very treacherous things about them. That's how the Revelationary War started and God intervened and how we've got Armageddon.

A piece of cloth without a tag ripped the juice of an instinctual delegate. Just as vitreous minstrel pinchers vouch their way to righteous positions, so will umbrella fiends find you in their self-perpetuated rain. A handout was specifically made for the enjoyment of gasoline electricians. To my dismay and your delight, the frock-wearing Ecclesiaste poured an empty glass of milk onto his own contents.

Back to the story, the castle captured a dragon princess. Luckily the prince of planets knew of this predicament. Hurriedly he did something. Weirdly he always does something where an adverb sets off his sentences. Actually they're the author's adverbs and not the prince of planets'.

Let's see where were we...Ah! Hurriedly he rushed off to the castle, the castle with no name, the castle that is not capitalized because there should be emphasis placed on the castle that captured the dragon princess. Easily the dragon princess was saved from the clutches of the stupid castle. Stupid castles were all made by the hillbillies of the Ural Mountains. Were they European or Asian? Nobody knew, not even them. That's why castles they built were so stupid.

A restaurant in northern California was called the Stupid Castle and a lot of bewildered Russians ate there, but it was nothing like home, so the place closed down and the entire town starved to death.
The United States should blow up the Ural Mountains because it makes sense to do so. Todoso should be someone's name. You should change your name to Todoso because it ended the first sentence of this paragraph. If your last name were Fulton, you would be Todoso Fulton. Doesn't that sound like the best name you could possibly have? Even if your last name isn't Fulton, just indulge in the thought of having the name Todoso. Doesn't it make your viscera curdle?

A badger with nail polish on its claws died of curdled viscera. I saw this because it's a popular joke among Wisconsinites. Wisconsin being the Badger State and America's Dairyland and all. Some people confuse our animal with our food. Wisconsin does have carnivorous citizens you know. There's nothing more irritating than an antagonizing non-Wisconsinite. Stop it!

The Robot's Exhibition, part 1

THE BEGINNING (evidence of its linearity)

And now it's time for the re-enactment of the crucifixion. Let me bring the grill this time for the disciples. I heard that Simon Peter got hungry on that Good Friday. I'll cook some Oscar Mayer wieners and burgers made from 100% beef. And then a re-run of The Mary Tyler Moore Show will come on after he dies.

Insects did exist in the dawning of anno domini, so I assume the caterpillar will be there. I saw a caterpillar carry a sink on its back once. The thing was as big as an oil tanker. As a matter of fact, I do remember it inching across the sea. Or could it be boiling tea? It did smell like the Imperial Blend. They make tacos in the shape of swastikas now. Somebody's got to keep the Klan happy.

His name is Devron and he owns a foghorn in a lighthouse. Here's a list of his Monday routine: 1) socks, 2) the tick-tock of his cuckoo clock, 3) Bach, 4) pince nez, 5) chafe, 6) a roller derby, 7) and finally the end. Devron likes to make tacos without cooking the shells. Only the meat's hot.
Casey walked to work in his sweatsuit. A flock of flamingos followed him to the subway. Inside the train is Her Majesty's Royal Gardens filled with eyes. When the eyes bloom, the Spanish Armada sails through in their galleons. A flag constructed of feathery toothpicks shall flutter and cover the ships and reveal Christ on the cross again.

Like Star Wars, the digitally re-mastered Jesus Christ enacted the entire New Testament again to get people hyped up about the second coming a few years later. Him and guy named Paul (previously Saul) did most of the work. The best thing about our time is media coverage. That got Christ more disciples than he could handle. I recall the Last Supper had to be booked in a football stadium outside of Jerusalem.

He was clean-, Jesus was. The Bic company offered him $5 million to shave his beard, but the Son of Man did it for free. Everyone was trying to make money off this guy. Well he died and everything, and when this guy named John finished his reading of Revelations the whole world stood up in applause. It brought back the memories of sitting in Sunday School. What if it were all true? I used to ask myself. The special edition crucifixion convinced me.

Enough about religion. I went to the Spyrox Cafe to watch my dentist play the trumpet in a jazz band called the Luncheon & the Bunch. His horn blinded me a few times because the glare from the sunshine hit me directly in the eyes. It wasn't the first time my dentist tried to damage me. Besides my teeth, he almost hurt my ears when pealed a high note in his improvisational solo in "A Taste of Honey." The solo was in bad taste, mind the pun, since it clashed with the classic theme.

I found out how to make bananas from honey: just pour some on raw eggs and voila! Every time I see the word "voila," I read "viola." My chiropractor plays the viola, but I didn't go to watch his ensemble because my previous chiropractor plays as well. I never told him why I switched doctors, but the reason had to do about a bad back he never cared about.

Meanwhile a sunray caught my eye and beamed it about the sun. The sun liked it so much, it took the form of my eye and now I look up at the sky and see my other eye winking back at me. "Thank you, sir," says the sun. At least that's what I think it says since suns can't talk.

Fusion (take one)

Endlessly creating
Is poetry necessary?
Endlessly pulsating
With comfortable perfection; hygienic future

Whatever we see or don’t see
They contemplate the annihilation (always imminent) of art.
Whatever exists or doesn’t exist
At this point they desire more artistic art.

Tao is limitless, unborn, eternal—
Hygiene becomes purity o God o God
She is the very face of the Absolute
The gate to the source of all things eternal
Listen to Her voice
Hear it echo through creation
Must we cease to believe in words?
Since when have they expressed the opposite of what the organ emitting them thinks and wants?

Without fail, She reveals her presence
Without fail, She brings us to our own perfection
Here is the greatest secret:
The thought is made in the mouth.
I still consider myself very charming.

A True Nihilist World

its corrosive effects
associated with Friedrich Nietzsche
gave way to an attitude of indifference
around us
we can learn
of the "collective unconscious"
being perceptive and aware of our surroundings
they are psychological and spiritual symbols
animal totems are archetypes
Carl Jung termed "archetypes"
the spirit nature of
a worship of the animals
along our personal path
there are hidden qualities
that work with the subconscious mind
around us
totems and all of nature
our electromagnetic energy field

Let's Buy Some Poultry

Phynn: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the poultry store!
?: There’s only me, sir.
Phynn: Excuse me, but I’m a bit shortsighted.
?: So this is a poultry store?
Phynn: Yes, it is the poultry store—the only one this side of the Ohio River. And how can I help you today?
?: I’ve never been to a poultry store before.
Phynn: Well, welcome then.
?: You already welcomed me, but thanks anyway.
Phynn: Today’s special is a couple of live chickens.
?: What do I do with them?
Phynn: That’s the joy of being a customer at my poultry store. You have an unlimited choice of what to do with the merchandise once it is purchased. This is not a gun shop or a car wash where you are limited in choice. We call it the Customer’s Freedom of Choice.
?: What do most people do with a couple of live chickens?
Phynn: I don’t know yet, but I’m putting together a questionnaire for all poultry shoppers to help abecedarians like you.
?: Excuse me, what’s like me?
Phynn: Abecedarians, you know, tenderfoots or tyros.
?: Don’t you mean tenderfeet?
Phynn: Let’s not argue about semantics, I’m only a humble poultry man. (pause) We’ve gone far in conversation without any movement towards a purchase. It would help if we introduced each other—
?: If you really think so. My name is ?.
Phynn: Come again? How do you pronounce that?
?: It’s like the zoo in spring.
Phynn: That’s pretty noisy.
?: You bet your bottom dollar. Now what’s your name?
Phynn: Please call me Phynn. That’s my name and that’s what all my friends call me too.
?: Fin as in fish fin?
Phynn: No, Phynn with a “ph” as in phosphorescence. Then it’s “ynn” like Lynn.
?: Is it short for something like Phineas?
Phynn: I’m afraid not. Phynn is my name in its entirety.
?: Don’t you have a family name?
Phynn: No, my family didn’t think I deserved it.
?: I’m sorry to hear that.
Phynn: Are you really sorry to hear that or are you just being polite? How would you like to live without a family name?
?: Actually I do.
Phynn: Oh really? You’re the one with an even stranger name. Now, how about some poultry?
?: You said a couple of live chickens were on sale today.
Phynn: That is correct, sir. You really have a great memory.
?: It was only a few minutes ago.
Phynn: Come on, don’t be so modest.
?: Shut up, don’t be so polite.
Phynn: I’m just being courteous like all good shopkeepers should.
?: What else do you have besides live chickens?
Phynn: We have some frozen ducks imported from Cincinnati.
?: Cincinnati?
Phynn: Oh, heavens to Betsy. I meant Singapore.
?: I didn’t know Singapore was famous for ducks.
Phynn: Either did I, but they offer the finest selection of frozen ducks.
?: How are they frozen?
Phynn: What do you mean?
?: I mean are they put in a deep-freeze or are they covered in ice or are they cryogenically frozen?
Phynn: I haven’t really gone into that much research.
?: If you knew, perhaps you could enhance the quality of the ducks.
Phynn: Perchance.
?: What else do you got?
Phynn: I’ve got turkeys with their heads chopped off.
?: Living?
Phynn: Of course not! Don’t be inane.
?: How many people buy turkeys in the off-season?
Phynn: When is the on-season?
?: Thanksgiving and Christmas. Didn’t you know that?
Phynn: That would explain the rise in prices. I guess I should stock more turkeys when the time comes. When is Thanksgiblets?
?: Thanksgiving is the last Thursday in November.
Phynn: That’s an odd place to put a holiday. Why a Thursday?
?: Probably for phonetic reasons: Thanksgiving Thursday.
Phynn: Brilliant! But why November?
?: Don’t you know the history of Thanksgiving?
Phynn: I didn’t know it was necessary for a poultry man.
?: If you handle turkeys, you should definitely know.
Phynn: You may think me a hopeless poultry man, but I’m not. I know how much the average game hen should weigh. I know what a partridge looks like when stripped of its plumage. I know the difference between a pheasant and a grouse.
?: I don’t doubt you, kind Phynn. Do you have any quail?
Phynn: Quail? Yes, er…we have many kinds of quail. What kind of quail would you like?
?: I didn’t know there were different kinds of quail.
Phynn: Yes, there’s the bobwhite quail of North America.
?: The bobwhite?
Phynn: Have you ever savored the bobwhite quail?
?: I don’t think I have. I’ll have one.
Phynn: Are you sure you just want one? We have a sale on a covey of quail.
?: How many quails are in a covey?
Phynn: Oh, anywhere from five to fifteen.
?: And the price is the same no matter the size of the covey?
Phynn: You have my word, honest to goodness.
?: I’ll have your largest covey of quail then.
Phynn: Very well. (goes to the back room) (another customer enters)
Debit: Good afternoon.
?: You really think so? I don’t like the fog.
Debit: It’s not foggy today.
?: Well, it was just a while ago. What’s the weather now, good sir?
Debit: Warmish.
?: Thanks, but how does the sky look? Is it filled with serene clarity?
Debit: Are you a poet?
?: No, just a curious man with an interest in the visibility of the day’s atmosphere.
Debit: It’s quite pleasant.
?: Quite? I don’t know if I can trust you.
Debit: Why not?
?: You’re a man of little words. I’ve made it a policy of mine not to trust men of little words. You know, little words please gullible minds.
Debit: I’m insulted.
?: And you should be, my devious fellow. (Phynn comes back out with a crate)
Phynn: Our largest covey contains sixteen quails. I seem to have underestimated the number of quail. Please do not think less of me.
?: Your reputation is safe with me, fit Phynn.
(Phynn turns attention to Debit)
Phynn: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the poultry store.
Debit: There’s only me and this stranger, sir.
?: I beg your pardon! I, a stranger? Have we not exchanged kind words?
Debit: Words, yes. Kind, I think not.
Phynn: I’m sorry. Have you been insulted in my shop?
Debit: I’m afraid so.
Phynn: I sincerely apologize for my patron’s harshness.
?: I was not harsh, wholesome Phynn. This man who stands here beside me has plans of deviation.
Debit: Untrue.
Phynn: Please settle this matter outside of my store. How can I help you, good fiend—friend?
Debit: What is today’s special?
?: A couple of—
Phynn: Please ?, let me. A couple of live chickens are on sale today for the low, low price of $5.99.
Debit: That is a bargain. I’ll take them.
Phynn: Good. Please allow me to finish the transaction with ?.
Debit: ?? That’s his name? Ha-ha!
?: Do not mock me. Phynn, please hasten the transaction. My comfort is at a critical level with this ignoble creature.
Phynn: Your covey of quails comes to the cost of $14.59.
Debit: What did you—
?: Shh! Are you telling me that I’m paying about ninety-three cents for each quail?
Phynn: A wizard of a mathematician you are. Yes, good patron. Is that too much?
?: The contrary. Can you ensure me that the quality of these sixteen quails is high?
Phynn: Again you have my word.
?: You truly are a man of good value.
Phynn: Your eyes have now opened. You have seen the true poultry man that I am.
?: Yes, indeed I have.
Debit: Stop it with this sugar coated politeness. Is this a tennis match of compliments?
?: Incredible! You have said quite a mouthful, sir. I take back what I said about you earlier. Please forgive my hasty convictions.
Debit: You forgive quickly.
?: It is due to my keen perception.
Debit: Your perception erred at first.
?: Wrong. You had only displayed short utterances.
Debit: I see your point.
?: And what a good point it is!
Phynn: Sorry to interrupt, but we are in the middle of a major transaction.
Debit: Fifteen dollars is a major transaction?
Phynn: When my largest covey of quails is being sold, I consider it a major transaction.
Debit: So be it.
?: “So be it.” What a pointless phrase…Mister…I’m sorry. I don’t think we’ve introduced each other, but you already know my name as you have mocked it when I had the supposition of you.
Debit: My name is Debit.
Phynn: It seems we all have curious names here this afternoon.
?: Yes, indeed. (He pulls out his wallet and fishes out a $20 bill) Can you break a twenty?
Phynn: Without let or hindrance by the flick of a switch.
Debit: Listen to those idioms.
?: I know!
Phynn: Here is your exact change, ?. Please look it over in case I have miscounted.
?: It’s OK. I trust your mathematical ability.
Phynn: Counting is not a matter of mathematics. Counting is just counting.
Debit: I think he’s right.
?: That’s because he is right. Nonetheless your esteemed reputation is secure with me.
Debit: And with me.
Phynn: Ah! But you haven’t dealt with me directly. You have only watched a transaction from the place where you are standing now.
Debit: True, true.
?: I believe that is all I needed for today, I will now depart and see where my feet lead me next. I’m sure these quails will be splendid.
Phynn: Thank you again, considerate consumer. I look forward to your next patronage.
?: And nice meeting you too, Debt.
Debit: That’s Debit as in a recorded debt or expense.
?: Yes. Farewell, gentlemen. (? Leaves)
Phynn: There goes a fine lad. Now were you interested in today’s special.
Debit: Actually I wasn’t. What peaks my interest was your selection of game hens.
Phynn: It’s quite a selection, isn’t it? I think it is the widest in town. Which game hens particularly interest you at this time?
Debit: I’m not really sure now that you mention it.
Phynn: We have Cornish game hens, Flemish game hens, and Danish game hens.
Debit: Danish game hens? Are they pastries?
Phynn: Ah! A sublime wit!
Debit: What’s the difference between Cornish and Flemish game hens? I’ve never been educated about that.
Phynn: Really? Every day’s a new learning experience, isn’t it? Let me teach you, good Debit.
Debit: I would be ever so grateful.
Phynn: Cornish game hens come from Cornwall of southwestern England.
Debit: Cornwall? Do you mean to tell me these game hens are imported?
Phynn: I think these game hens were prepared in the fashion of Cornwall. I doubt they were imported from England. Anyway, Flemish game hens hail from Flanders in Belgium.
Debit: Flanders, Belgium! That sounds classy. I’ll take a few of your Flemish game hens.
Phynn: Unfortunately they are the highest priced game hens.
Debit: Ach quatch!
Phynn: Watch your language.
Debit: I did and it was German.
Phynn: We only accept English at this establishment.
Debit: We? There is only one of you.
Phynn: Quite right. Your observation is most accurate. Would you like a reward?
Debit: Don’t be facetious.
Phynn: I don’t like that word. Now how about those game hens?
Debit: Yeah. How much are those Flemish hens?
Phynn: They go for about $5 per gram.
Debit: Per gram? Why are you weighing hens with grams?
Phynn: It’s required by Flemish law.
Debit: But this is America. You don’t have to follow Flemish law.
Phynn: This is America where I can follow any law I choose.
Debit: As long as it is in accordance with the Constitution.
Phynn: My, my. You are quite educated in civics. I’m forever grateful for receiving such intelligent customers such as yourself.
Debit: How many grams does your average Flemish game hen weigh?
Phynn: I don’t know. I’ll have to call in for that.
Debit: Call in? Call in to whom?
Phynn: Whom? I shall call in to poultry headquarters down in Washington.
Debit: Do you mean to tell me there are poultry headquarters in Washington, DC?
Phynn: I didn’t say that. They’re in Washington, Georgia.
Debit: Oh, well then, make the call.
Phynn: I was about to. (Dials) Hello. This is Phynn from The Poultry Store. No, it’s the one on the other side of Ohio River. Yes, that’s me. I was calling to get some information concerning game hens. Flemish ones. Yes, they are quite expensive. (He looks at Debit with “I told you so.”) A highly intelligent customer of mine would like to know the average weight of Flemish hens in grams please. Oh, he’s well educated in the field of civics. Yes, he’s an excellent American citizen. Debit’s his name. Quite peculiar, isn’t it?
Debit: Hey now! Don’t go chatting on about me. That’s not very professional business.
Phynn: Shh! I’m on the phone. Please be patient and urbane. (Back to the phone) I’m sorry that was Debit. He doesn’t want me talking about him, that’s all. He’s a bit average-looking if you ask me.
Debit: What’s going on?
Phynn: Are you single?
Debit: That is none of your business. Just tell me about the game hens or I walk out of here.
Phynn: Well, it’s just that the lady from headquarters is interested in you.
Debit: Really? But she doesn’t even know me.
Phynn: She knows you are highly intelligent and average-looking.
Debit: Is average-looking good enough for her?
Phynn: Well, she is a bit on the heavy side.
Debit: How much is a bit?
Phynn: I don’t know. Say about 170 to 180 pounds, not that heavy.
Debit: Is she a tall woman?
Phynn: She’s a few inches shorter than you, Mr. Debit.
Debit: Tell her I’m not interested in her, but I am interested in the average weight of a Flemish game hen.
Phynn: I don’t think she’ll take kindly to that, sir.
Debit: Go on.
Phynn: (back on the phone) Yes, hello? Hello? (hangs up) She must have heard us talking.
Debit: Call her back.
Phynn: I can’t do that. (a caped customer walks in) Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the poultry store.
Rotness: You need not welcome me to your poulty store, and may I point out that—
Debit: There’s only you and me in the store. He knows.
Rotness: One thing I do not tolerate is an interruption, especially when it is I who is being interrupted.
Phynn: I apologize for past and future hindrances to your reputation, my patron.
Rotness: Don’t call me your patron when I haven’t purchased anything yet. And I don’t plan to do so either.
Phynn: May I inquire the nature of your visit then?
Rotness: You reserve the right to mind your own business.
Debit (whispers to Phynn): He’s a bit hoity-toity, isn’t he?
Rotness: Fellow visitor, please make no snap judgments about me for I haven’t done so for you. Thank God in heaven for that for I would have damned you so.
Debit: You do not have the ability to damn anyone.
Rotness: Would you like to try me?
Phynn: Humble Debit, please back down from the man’s threats. I wish neither of you harm.
Debit: Could we continue with return call to headquarters before I purchase your Flemish game hens?
Rotness: Did I hear you say Flemish game hens? Are you intending to eat them?
Debit: You reserve the right to mind your own business.
Rotness: That’s plagerism. I have a copyright on my words wherever I go.
Phynn: It is possible that I could make an educated guess about the average weight of a Flemish game hen.
Debit: Please do it, sir.
Phynn: It will take an estimate of 24 hours to successfully guess the weight. Could you come back tomorrow?
Debit: The thought of Flemish game hen on my palate has been palpitating in my head since I heard about their succulence.
Phynn: I understand completely. How about you pay $20 dollars now for them, and you can pay the difference tomorrow? And if the total cost is under $20, I will refund you the difference.
Debit (pulling out a $20 bill): Consider it a deal.
Rotness: Man and woman must not dine on poultry!
Debit: Practice your tragedies elsewhere, Shakespeare.
Phynn: Shh! He’s a potential customer. (Hands over the game hens)
Rotness: I refuse to be tagged as a customer, consumer, patron, or what have you.
Debit: I will now bow out of this performance. Thank you for the wonderful game hens.
Phynn: Thank you too, wise Debit. I look forward to your presence tomorrow.
Debit: Adieu.
Rotness: Was that fool speaking French?
Phynn: Only to bid farewell. (pause) How do you acquire goods and services, sir, without exchanging them for monetary units?
Rotness: I would like to hear your theory on how I acquire goods and services.
Phynn: Please do not hate me for what I am about to say.
Rotness: I cannot make such a promise, I’m sorry. Go on and tell me.
Phynn: I presume you are a shoplifter.
Rotness: Ha! I am no petty thief!
Phynn: Can you excuse my false assumption?
Rotness: Ah…no! Do you not know who I am?
Phynn: A whimsical man of half-nature, one of diabolical background I suppose.
Rotness: Would my name be Satan to you?
Phynn: I refuse to answer that question.
Rotness: You already have, and you are wrong for I am not Satan or Wormwood or Lucifer, the Morning Star.
Phynn: Then you are some cunning apparition of deceit.
Rotness: I am no ghost! My name is Rotness.
Phynn: Oh, I should have guessed.
Rotness: You did guess and the guess was quite off.
Phynn: And how shall I entertain your presence, Mr. Rotness?
Rotness: Do not address me as Mister. Do I look like a mister to you?
Phynn: I didn’t know misters had a look about them.
Rotness: Oh, they do indeed, and my look is the furthest from theirs.
Phynn: You don’t say.
Rotness: I just did, but I will say nothing more of the fact.
Phynn: May I inquire again how I shall entertain your presence?
Rotness: I require no entertainment from you at all. I would just like to take one last look at this store before…(sighs)
Phynn: Before what?
(Rotness looks into the air passionately and reaches out his hand to thin air.)
Phynn: Your presence has instilled fear into my heart ever since you and your cape entered.
Rotness: I have a tendency to do things of that nature, but I have no apologies to give. I admire the air I exude.
Phynn: Don’t you mean “exhale?”
Rotness: Quiet! Let my last glimpses of this store be in peace.
(Phynn looks awfully concerned. Rotness now outstretches both of his hands.)
THE END

The Poem That Wanted Three Parts

Part One
The glorious husher bus
Escorts marbles of blossom huts
On roads and promenades to
Blistering shadows overcast by masks
Leather bound figurines prance
To the effortless window
Making gyroscopic visions turn opaque
And another sunlight falls
Missing its target and illuminating
A darkness that should have never been bright
So the glass is reversed and the ball unrolls
A door hinges itself from the frame
Walking up the steps that once before lead down
To the new heaven that drowned in the flood

Part Two
A dipped toe sends a circular vibration
To the outer limits of the oceans
Sending glaciers to crash into the salty liquid
Guilt rushes to the toe as blood rushes to the brain
And the shoeless matron is sent to the ward
Her sins are forgiven but she threw away the keys
To the paper prison she has folded on her lap

Part Three
A smattering of daffodils
Can’t be force-fed to a fence
That meant to keep all the dancers out
A flower never plucked can’t be compared to anyone
So the man in the horn-rimmed glasses
Smears paint all over the place
But he missed a spot in the contemporary kitchen
Where the silver microwave shines
The spot between the magnets of Stanley Turrentine
And a jazz drummer whose name I forgot
Is left with his records in the garbage to rot
Unless that speckled girl grows up very fast
She’ll never know about his music from the past
Instead she will hum to the beat of a dance
That tells her she’ll make money if she takes off her pants
But lucky for her the record was saved
And now her hairy legs will never be shaved
She will start a movement of great equality
At the moment she is served some chamomile tea

Blue Balloon/Dry Spittoon

The man’s cartoon
Came on a cart
And dished out
On a pan of film
Spun out on a reel
Shown on a silver screen
The laughter fainted
The crowd calmed
Throats cleared
Eyes teared
Mangy beard
Thought it weird

Transcribing Over

I haven’t been posting too much on this blog because I’ve been transcribing the Tao Te Ching since March. I have finally completed it today, so I will be able to post on this blog more regularly. I thought I would be able to both transcribe and personalize the transcription on this blog at the same time, but that ended up becoming too time-consuming—up to three hours a day!

Now I can replace the transcription time with blogging time. I will also try to interweave some dada-type writings to cut through the seriousness, as my life philosophy is to balance life as spiritually serious and humorously meaningless.

Also, the goal of this blog has been compromised because I have recently read a book called Counter Culture Through the Ages which addressed similar themes. The author successfully connected Taoism to dadaism along with other countercultures such as the popular movement in the late Sixties and the Transcendentalists of the mid 19th Century. Even though I've been inspired by his book, I will try to keep this blog focused on the two counter cultures, both of which have been reactions to great wars of their time.

Taoism pointed out the flaws of Confucian philosophy that brought on countless wars in Asia. Dadaism pointed out the flaws of modern European civiliazation that brought on the first World War. What are the flaws of today's society that brought on today's wars? There are many, but I believe the main ones to be global capitalism and fundamentalist monotheism.

God is money.

The Softer Side of Sunny-Side-Up Eggs

Are the Taoist verses too serious for you? Then have at this bit o'fun:

Orange Drink with 1% Fruit Juice
Lemon-Lime Pop

These are the taboo drinks of Generation ZZ Top (2005-2020)
ZZ Top paid $1.5 million dollars to the Mormon Church of Latter Day Saints to have the next generation named after them. The following generations have been named:
2020-2035: The NutraSweet Generation
2076-2081: Generation YKK (zipper company)
2090-2100: Monty Python’s Flying Generation
2145-2160: Generation Imperial Margarine
2160-2175: People Generation
2195-2210: McGeneration (all humans born in this time period are entitled to free fries for every order of 2 burgers, but by that time 1 burger will cost about $41.89, so McDonald’s won’t really be losing any money)
2285-2299: Paramount Pictures & Star Trek: Generation
2323-2332: Generation AT & T
2490-2505: Roger F. Alfredson’s Generation (who is this man?)
2986-3001: MacGeneration (not to get confused with McGeneration of the turn of the 23rd Century, Mac beat out Microsoft for this spot whereas Bill Gates turned and said he had better things to do with his free time)
All remain generation slots are currently available, but we’re really seeking names that do not endorse 20th and early 21st Century products because hopeful during those future years of cerebral enlightenment, these companies will be long forgotten. Thank you, Roger F. Alfredson, although you could have picked some catchy name. A reward will be given to the most creative generation name. So far we’re at a tie with McGeneration & MacGeneration. Way to go, Scotland!