Dust jacket. A dead letter.
Moto goes modern. Soviet sailor is not go to sea to see the world, but go to sea to bury the vcr.
Nuclear Fuel. The chief of the port spoke against permitting the ship to enter his harbor, declaring, “We still do not have radiation-monitoring equipment, decontaminating solutions, or special protective paste.” A key suspect in the boron carbide exposé passed the tip to Nucleonics Week, his sister publication.
The SIOP and I. Policy underwritten by Mutual of Omaha. Unfortunately, not every target could be assigned an atomic bomb, since the US has only about 22,500 nuclear warheads. There are now about fifty thousand designated targets in the Middle East. The revised King Ronald version of the U.S. central nuclear war plan was continuously fine-tuned by the Joint Target Staff at Strategic Air Command HQ.
Cast a feather against the wind. Cast one’s lot with the cast of an eye, or glance at the cast of the die, or cast off your nautical, reptilian clothing to cast your spell, with a cast of thousands of earthsworm, cast in bronze after a plaster cast (flyrod’s shadow), a horoscope of fortunes, as a widow will cast her weeds on an overcast day, when the outcast comes home to feather his nest.
Casthouse. The humane society raids the building in which pigs or ungulates are castrated, and where Castor Wineburger, also called corposant, and Pollux Gnuman, also called St. Elmo’s fire, where on the appearance of two at once they were thought to portend the cessation of a storm.
He had seen Castor at the main yardarm. Rab 5.17.77. They no knot of what they speak. Dumbwaiters, dumbterminals, dumbbells, o my. The pilgrim’s progress ends in the gutter. He pleaded guilty as sin to being two bits shy of a full deck, and blessed with a brain predisposed to short circuit at any
The first pile. A remake of the classic 1955 Atomic Energy Commission Report, sanitized and prelubricated. The Italian navigator has landed in the New World. The natives were very friendly, since they were not nuclear capable.
Noel Coward and Stephen Hero star in a Burt Bacharach-Neil Simon production of: How are your bowels working, private? I haven’t been issued with any, sir. I mean are you constipated? No sir, I volunteered. Heavens, man, don’t you know the King’s English? No sir, please express my deepest sympathies.
When I was a baby my grandma done told me, don’t eat watermelon seeds if you don’t want a watermelon to grow in your belly, or say peepee, as in m i double s, i double s, i double p, i.
Humpback wail of the horny toed. Be yr own wilt walkman. Jumping Jimminy, capitalist pawn, kissed the girls and made them yawn. Jimminy Cricket ate at the Y, humpted the girls and made them fly.
East meats west. Eating the picnic hamburger with chopsticks. Hey Sony don’t make fun of my chokes, okay?
Sleep of the tongue. Have you ever tried to remember someone’s name, only to discover that there is no such person? Or to remember a word, only to find that there is no word. And you would have to invent a word, the way we would have to if we wanted fifty words for snow, so say the Iniut, or the way the Inuit would have to, if they wanted ten thousand names for wheelchairs. Some of the names would translate directly, like the twist, the mashed potato or the chicken grill. Others would need new words, like the rumba and the hully gully. Remember the Alamo, the Maine, that certain September. Archie Buner-Hill couldn’t remember the Crawdaddy Song when asked by his computer.
Star Catalogues. When I was a groin boy and mounting my first show I only slept six hours all week. The catalog included over a million positions, incorporating the Second Cape Catalog, the Catalog of the Components of Doubles and Multiples, and the General Catalog of Trigonometric Parallaxes. Venus in superior conjunction with Mars, Uranus ascending.
Fun of embarrassment. I got my disk, I got my data, nothing smells as bad as a false nose, nothing looks as bad as a glass eye, nothing speaks as bad as false teeth. hear no evil, speak no evil, see no evil. Lesbians got their sperm by mail.
Mickey mouse brand. New drug manufactured from transmission fluid and rabbit pellets. Blew up a nintendo aboard a Columbian airliner.
Urgency. Shentlemen, fletch yr arrows. Like there’s gonna be no tomatoes. We set sail upon our magnum octopus as a bagful of urchins. Urges? No urchins, see, sea urchins. No, urges, see. A feather in every bonnet, a chicken in every pot, a girl in every port, any port in a storm, a victim for every crime.
Hi lo. Time to introduce my virus. Bons. Measure up to. Nothing helps a man as much in these parts as much as a good set of legs, and if those legs happen to be long to a woman, then he can ride barefront through the park. Sod ’em and begorra, she wore a fuckskin bedora, I mean a buckspin fedora. He was a fringe candidate.
Two kids got lost and a guy went down a pipe and found them, and a minute later they wold have died because the tide was coming in. The kids were about this high. A born again bartender investigates rumors that purgatory is a Vatican front to launder drug money.
Union Gap. Two lovers in Brussels sprout fifteen foot flares while kissing in a shopping mall. A shoe box full of ashes were the sole remains. One if by LAN, zero if by C. Noman is an i LAN.
Tray usketeers. The Zamboni brothers host Radio Antarctica. Just a hip, scot and a chump away from the greater goodies. Followed by the Chanson de Roland, Tweeterdedum/Wooferdedee, et le petit PeaVea, twister of logs. Assalted with a pep talk.
Didja get any tail sleeping with Anna Log? Do those rubbers on your ears prevent hearing aids? Watch out for the henways. His lawfully wetted wife is wise beyond her ears.
What are the foreparts of a stove? Lifter, leg and polker.
Walking up the mountains without conquering them. Sans-culotte and transcendental mathematics. Dr Weiner interrupts his study of external genitalia because his wife left the silverware in the oven while on vacation, and forgot when they returned. His posthumously published Silliman Lecture text, the Computer and the Brain, is still a good starting point, even 30 years later.
Bullet in fusebox shoots driver in leg. Did ya ever see anyone drink a caesar thats got a mickey in it? The dead bird outside the video shop window was a leading exponent of geometric music. You know, she never even wanted a microwave, but her kids got together and all chirped in, and now she says she couldn’t live without it. I’m getting off at the bay.
Trying to squeeze out the last line of executable code. Casting into the fissure of women with his bit part, angle worm, stait jacket. Eyes left him as his nose found him. Hear little jimmy dickins sing take an old cold tater and wait.
Silicon valley girls with their implants. The easiest surfaces to mimic in computer animation are synthetics, like plastic. Hair, cloth, skin, all the organic stuff is the hard part.
Never does a man run so fast as when chasing his car, nor does a woman hear so well as when listening to her fading walkman, or as when her hat is mistaken for a UFO. His eyes left him in the army just out ouf boot camp. Boot the system.,
Anna was, Livia is, Plurabelle’s tobee. Mid life cruises. Light-cross doughboys. She wears her knickers down about her knees, the kind sailors like to go to see.
Somewhere, outside the light cone. His revolutionary theories on sexuality led to eventual disgrace. Vivisected behind his back in his animated shorts. When then was now, we would sit around the table pufing on a doober, and you could bet your boots off when then was now. Can we have a show of hands. Who has enough memory?
Pac man, pack man, with his band of men. Digit goes to Hawaii with her finger in front of the lens. Now hear this. a boom in sound. Look over there.
What’s that smell? A taste of your own cooking. Psychologists are just a step ahead of the psychics in the yellow pages. Mummy in bus, in hotel fire. IDd by its skeletal records. The Lessor covenants with the Lessee for quiet enjoyment.
Bikini Atoll. Crack the code. Get this through your thick skull. Under the microwave at least I’m not under intensive care. Saponification, pontificate. Bad luck to be superstitious.
Rode on the bus with the grandchild of the man who discovered caramel apples. Invented? Platonic. One night we looked at the sky for over an hour and discovered three or four new stars never seen before. My family is average. Sports fans, work on the railroad, don’t say grace.
Blew angel. They call me speedo, but my real name is mister earl. Messages sent to a button. All the old tv moms and dads end up on game shows. Heaven.
Horton hatches the earth.