Where The DreamTeam Holds Forth As The Wittiest News Group On The Whole World Wide Web

This is the "Gaian Operations Director" saying:

If you have reached this WebPage by accident... go back! GO BACK before it is too late!

If on the other hand, you have found this WebPage by design... Then may you be welcomed to

If on the other hand, the shoe is on the other foot, and the apriori Solipsistic sense of SELF centerdom is that from which is perceived the old view that there are others to whom you may reply, then you can enjoy the repartee with all the other "yous" (that is the plural of you! Looks kind of funny doesn't it?) without having to bear the stigma that comes with talking to one's self... and then ANSWERING!

The successful Solipsist is that one who is able to accept ALL philosophies as valid by comprehending them as but pieces in the Ostent, Evanescent, Eidolon of Apparent Solipsistic Reality, Perceived As The Time/Space/Energy/Matter/Life/Mind Continuum. And that includes even those philosophies that reject and resist to greater or lesser degrees the idea that existence is at ground, more of a psychological event than a physical happening.

LIVE FROM LA CAGE au FAUL

SUNDAY.... SUNDAY.... THE FINAL FLIGHT OF THE MIGHTY (cough, sputter, I would use another word, but I don't know how to spell the sound of flatulence) BIRDTRIBE. SEE ALLISONWONDERLAND REIGN VICTORIOUS... WATCH AS THE MIDI BIRDTRIBE GROVELS AND BEGS FOR MERCY... HEAR HIS GROANS AND FARTZ AS ALLISONWONDERLAND GRINDS BIRDTRIBE TO GRUEL WITH EXHALATIONS FROM BIRDTRIBE'S OWN GIZZARD. REMEMBER, A BIRDTRIBE IN THE HAND CAN GET VERY MESSY! :) (I know, I know, watch those emoticons). FEEL THE GROUND SHAKE AS BIRDTRIBE LIES (LAYS?) HELPLESSLY CONVULSING ON THE GROUND!

And don't miss the after match party... both contestants will be signing autographs, and handing out glossy 8X10s of each other.

To quote AllisonWonderland... "I think BirdTribe is a lot smarter than his erstwhile buddies... after all, he hangs around with them and they hang around with him!

And looking right into the camera, after wresting the mike from Mean Gene Okkerland, AllisonWonderland says: "BirdTribe... your feathers are numbered... I'm gonna tear you wing from wing... I'm going to break your skinny little legs to the point that they bend backwards at the knee... and I'm going to stomp on all three toes on both your feet... you might as well not even show up... cause YOU'RE GOING DOWN!!! (my imitation of the Maucho Man)...

"So Ladies and Gentlemen, Tippy Hedron here, along with Alfred Hitchcock, the star and the director of "The Birds", with the color report of this whole flockking event. We are at the site of Sunday's big shown-down between that Master showman AllisonWonderland and that big master-baiting show-off Birdtribe...

The audience is beginning slowly find the way to their perches... Over in BirdTribe's free ticket chirping section are all his relatives... Let's see if we can get BirdTribe's father (who is taking a leave of absence from Sesame Street) over here to say a few words: "Big Bird!!! Who do you think is going to win the big one Sunday?" Big Bird replies: "Well, of course I am rooting for my little BirdTribe, but in all honesty, I don't give him much of a chance! AllisonWonderland looks awetossfully strong, This may end up being a rout like a match between Sylvester Theekatt and Tweetie Pie!" Birdtribe better hope that AW is out of Miracle Whip!"

The rest of BirdTribe's family are just now coming into the arena here at the Downtown Atlanta BirdBrain Aviary, known as "The Hen-House that BirdTribe built!"... There's BirdTribe's brother and sister, Donald and Daisy Duck (from East Texas) and their four children, Huey, Dewey, Louie, and Daffy, who is sitting with his uncle Scrooge, Tweety Pie, and Woody Woodpecker, BirdTribe's urologist. "Daffy!!! Who do YOU think is going to win?" Daffy answers: "Well, if AllisonWonderland was taking on Mike TysonChicken, it would probably be a bit more even, he might even lose an ear or two, but since it is just my uncle BirdTribe, I'm going to have to say that it won't be much of a battle, I just hope Unkie BirdTribe isn't killed or hurt too badly... He may end up getting his wings broken which would turn him into a flightless DoDo, but that wouldn't be much of a change for Unkie BirdTribe!"

And now coming down the aisle is The Stork that delivered BirdTribe to the wrong address, who is the WildGoose, and BrotherGoose who have been let out of their cages by Frankie Lane just for this occasion. Also just now coming into the arena is Foghorn Leghorn! "Foghorn!!! Who do you think is going to win?" Foghorn answers: "Isay, Isay, I don't give BirdTribe much of a, I say much of a chance, sonny... I mean, I mean, he seems to always let his alligator mouth, I say aligator mouth, overload his canary asshole! I just hope he isn't seriously injured!" Alright, we have to go to commercial... We'll be right back... (commercial for Dove Beauty Bar) "Hi... I'm BirdTribe... I eat at least 3 Dove Beauty Bars every day... and I have for the past 15 years... I hope to see some results someday! (Cut!!! Who wrote THAT script?) Well, back to the arena which is already in progress....

"Welcome back to the Duel-to-the-Death show-down between AllisoWonderland and that pretender to the crown, BirdTribe, for the bragging rights to the 'Cock-0-The-Wok' here at Chick-Fil-A Chinese restaurants, where the egg is foo young!. We see sitting up in the skyboxes the College of Cardinals from Rome, all decked out in their red hats, along with their guest Cardinal, that ball-hawk, from St.Louis, Mark McGwire... who has, as you will remember, just recently broken Roger Maris' home-run record. "Mark!!! Who do you think is going to win?" MMG answers: "Well, after this is over, I'm going to be going to the Disneyland McDonalds for a chicken sandwich... I just hope it doesn't taste like BirdTribe, because he has so little taste in the first place."

And coming down the aisle is that Adolph Eichman of the fowl world, Col. Sanders with Dawn Kingfisher, BirdTribe's manager... "Dawn!!! Who do you think is going to win?" Dawn Kingfisher answers: "Well, if BirdTribe lasts for a least one round, it would be a real feather in his cap... I just hope he doesn't get hurt... that would be re-egret-ful!"

"Alright, we have to go to another commercial for the new Ford Falcon: "Hi... I'm BirdTribe, and just as soon as I learn to read, I'm going to go get my driver's license and then I'm going to get a Ford Falcon... It will be bright canary yellow to match the stripe that runs from my not so bright head, down my back and off the end of my cute little tail!" (Cut!!! Who wrote THAT script?)

Now back to the arena which is already in progress! There has been a bit of a commotion taking place because BirdTribe's corner team, DuckyLucky, TurkeyLurky, ChickenLittle and Sherril Crow have just been busted and are being ushered out in hand cuff because they were under the ring where they have been smoking a joint... They all seem to have had their feathers ruffled, but Officer WarHawk is reading them their rights... "You have a right to remain silent,.. (and the crowd noise obscures the rest of the Miranda verse)

Seated right next to the entire Atlanta Falcons football team is the United States Postal Service Eagle... "Pardon me, Eagle, but who do you think is going to win?" The Eagle replies: "I don't know, but when they ship BirdTribe's body home for burial, it will only cost three dollars, if they send it priority mail... I'm afraid that it will be the last time that turkey will get to fly like an eagle!"

"And who's this??? Why it's... can it be?... yes... it is... Cock Robin. Wasn't he shot with an arrow from the bow of the Sparrow some time back? I thought he was dead! But here he is in the gooseflesh!" "Cock Robin!!! Who do you think is going to win?" CR replies: "Oh there's no doubt about it... AllisonWonderland will dress Birdtribe like an XMAS Goose complete with Stovetop stuffing. I firmly believe that BirdTribe shouldn't have egged AW on, because in the end the yoke will be on him!"

And over there is that illustrious Senator... Orrin Hatch! "Orrin!!! Who do you think is going to win?" OH answers: "AllisonWonderland, of course... there ought to be a law against this kind of spectacular mis match! I'm going to see if Janet Reno will appoint a special prosecutor to investigate the circumstance leading up to this egret-gious fox pas...

BirdTribe is obviously out of his tree on this one. All I can say is a BirdTribe in the hand is worth two governer Bushes!" Coming into the arena is the RoadRunner... with his old friend, Wile E. Coyote... RR!!! Who do you think is going to win?" RR replies: "Beep Beep, I have told BirdTribe to use my defensive tactics and run! But he had better start now... because if he does, he could be in Vancouver by Sunday... that's the only way he is going to survive!"

(And now to another commercial for Bird'sEye brand Peas) "Hi, I'm BirdTribe and when I'm hungry I just go take a pea! (Cut... Who wrote THAT script?)

And back at the arena which is already in progress: "Hi, we're back... and we are about to talk to Heckle and Jeckyll Magpie... "H&J, Who do you think is going to win?" They answer in unison (to the tune of the InkSpot's big hit (If I Didn't Care)): If BirdTribe survives How will he feel? If BirdTribe survives Then he should get real, I hope that he's not hurt, but I fear that it's true That he's going to get stomped to a pile of bird doo!"

And who is the guy in the parka over there? Why, it's Admiral Byrd, just back from migrating to the South Pole... "Admiral. who do you think is going to win?" AB replies: "Oh I think it will be a draw... but in a draw AllisonWonderland will win, because he knows how to draw a LOT better than BirdTribe... he's had a LOT more experience. All BT knows how to draw is flies!"

OK, lets go back to the studios for another commercial message, we'll be right back! "Hi, I'm BirdTribe, When I want to hear the music that I love best, I always buy songs by the Flamingos and the YardBirds, And I especially love that song "BlackBirds" by the Beatles... get them all on Capital Punishment records... (Cut!!! Who wrote THAT script?)

And now for a real treat, here comes the coach and the musician Larry and Charlie Bird! "Larry, who's going to win?" LB answers: "It's an awe-toss up! AllisonWonderland will "awe toss up" BT and if he ever comes down, he'll be sorry! The only chance that BT has is if he can cold-cock AW with his wierd word thesaurus, but even that might not work! So there you have it folks... the consensus opinion is that AW is going to soundly defeat BT to see who rules the roost!

This is Tippy Hedren and Alfred Hitchcock signing off and returning you to the NBC Peacock! Have a wonderscanned day and just wait till SUNDAY... SUNDAY... SUNDAY... SUNDAY... SUNDAY... :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :)!!!!!

The crowd sees BirdTribe enter the arena and they crane their necks to get a gander at him and see how he will react. He waves to his chirping section wherein are perched every member of the Bird Tribe: BigBird, TweetyPie, DonaldDuck, DaisyDuck, HueyDuck, DeweyDuck, Louieduck, DaffyDuck, WoodyWoodpecker, MikeTysonChicken, Scrooge McDuck, The Stork, WildGoose, BrotherGoose, FoghornLeghorn, The Cardinals from Rome, BallHawk MarkMcGwire, Col. Sanders, DawnKingfisher, DuckyLucky, TurkeyLurky, ChickenLittle, SherrillCrow, The Atlanta Falcons, USPS Eagle, CockRobin, BowenSparrow, the XMAS Goose, OrrinHatch, The RoadRunner, Heckle and Jeckyl Magpie, Admiral Byrd, Larry and Charlie Bird, and the NBC Peacock.

He (BirdTribe) comes strutting up the aisle while watching the hunched over figure of AllisonWonderland grovel and pander to the three old ladies in the seventh row. He (BirdTribe) recognizes them as: Cindy Crawford, Pamela Anderson Lee, and The Reigning Miss Universe!

One of them is furious about something and seems to be shaking a bundt pan in the air like like a militant, disgruntled camel jockey all doped up on Sulfur of Muslimite. Ah yes... That be Judi RhodeIslandRed! An Ex-fan of BirdTribe, who crossed over to the AllisonWonderland camp when she found out that not only could BT not keep it up, he couldn't even get it up...

His pet gerbil and Ring Assistant, Victorious Ecret, whom he has dressed in frilly undergarments and greased before riding around the ring. Who are really Pia Zadora and Heather Locklear dressed as the WhiteRabbit and The Queen of Hearts...

BirdTribe's music and his gorgeous Ring assistant, Mercy, takes off his feathered robe...with a flash of lights in time to the music he rolls over the top rope to land on his feet and snatches the mike. (Alright, let's not bring M***Y's snatch into this!)

(BIRDTRIBE WROTE:) "Jeezus John Holmes Keerist slinging a twelve inch rubber schlong and drooling slobber on their pimp coordinated tights, while riding a greased and lingeried gerbil around the ring like a tinhorned bandersnatch all whooped up on crystal meth and blithering something about flatulence issuing from his mouth. You trot out this standard issue flame like a grizzled, road weary, wrestling manager's prized sportsjacket and expect me to be impressed." He growls and preens into the mike.

AllisonWonderland replies: "As a picture gallery is a dull place to a blind man, so a standard issue flame is wasted on an illiterate who has to use a wierd-word thesaurus from which to cut and paste!"

[BTW for those of you who don't know where BT is getting all his fifty cent words you might like to look up this URL

http://www-ocean.tamu.edu/~baum/skb_dict.html

(which BTW is originating from Texas A&M University, the polok joke brunt of Texas, and it is located just about 60 miles from where AllisonWonderland lives)

BirdTribe cocks his head, amused at the flaccid rantings and impotent ravings of this challenger. Like when Ali was the challenger when Liston went down.

He (BT) responds..."I can see by the size of your letters that you are all pumped up on testosterone, but sheer power of size will not be an effective weapon against the luchadore tactics of this high flyer." AW: reponded: I was using ALL CAPS to make sure you could hear me even with your hearing aid on the fritz!

(BT) AllisonWonderland continues with his Wile E. Coyote fantasies without seeing the latin name *Genericum Idiotica* flash below his picture...

(AW) It's a good thing that I don't speak "wet-back"! But it's nice to know that you do... Where did you cross the RioGrande?

AllisonWonderland taunts BT, saying: "When I get my Pontiac SunBird, you're destined to be but a bunch of feathers in the grill! :) BirdTribe clotheslines the smiley. AllisonWonderland replies: "While you're at it you might do my JockeyShorts... and no licking at the skid marks!"

Just the thought of all those skid-marks brings BT down...

(And the referee goes to his knees and counts One...Two... Thr.... and Birdtribe gets one shoulder off the mat, just in time... And kicks out to perform a frankensteiner from the top rope.

James gets up hardly shaken and... reaches for the UZI that was hidden in his Violet, Fuscha, and Chartreuse tights. And using a line from the Maucho Man Randy Savage's repertoire screams at Birdtribe: "A MAN OF MY POSITION CAN'T AFFORD TO LOOK RIDICULOUS!!!" (Randy always did like to say things with tri-exclaims as punctuation) And with that, the governor of Minnesota comes bounding into the ring to ask Birdtribe if he would like to be his vice-presidential candidate running mate in the year 2000. At this point AllisonWonderland breaks into song with a dittie from the 70's, "What cha gonna do about me?"

BT motions for the smiley to get back up. The crowd wonders what BirdTribe will do. They wonder that BT knows how to do anything but cut and paste from the wierd-word Texas Aggie thesaurus!

BirdTribe taunts: "Well AllisonWonderland. You come prancing in here in your girlie clothes and toss a few anal expletives around with all the finesse of a paraplegic garden slug, and dazzled by the lights, stumble around the ring taking shots at opponents out of the building."

AW replies: "It's all part of the show! Someone has to make the show interesting... I guess it is ALL up to me! You'll probably use the excuse that the reason that you aren't able to come up with anything interesting is that you are having a child-custody battle with a nasty ex-wife... or some equally non-sensical excuse... some people will make up anything to keep from being vanquished."

*BirdTribe picks up the Zen two by four in the corner that his gorgeous Ring Assistant, Mercy, has placed there and lets AllisonWonderland have it across the back while he is gloating "If wit were glue you wouldn't have enough to glue The Empire State Building to the side of an ant."

Luckily the Zen2X4 is all pithy, to match BT's bird-brain, And AW, not believing in ZEN is unfazed! And in a battle of wits, BT is totally unarmed... If he had dynamite for brains BT wuldn't have sense enough to blow his nose!

And now for the introductions:

Michael Buffer steps into the ring and the lights go down... and MB intones: "Llllllllllet'ssss geeeet rrrrrrready to RRRRRRRRummmmmbleeeeeeeeee!", and the crowd goes wild!!!!

"In this corner... Wearing little more than a feathered boa, weighing in a measly 2.7 grams, hailing out of Atlanta, Georgia, land of the descendants of the English debtors, presently imagining himself to be of some significance is "The MIDI BirdTribe"!!!!"

And the crowd yawns with just the sound of chirping coming from BT'S chirping section. Cheap, cheap, cheap, cheap, quack, quack, quack, (which is a strangely echoic discription of BT!)

And in this corner... and the crowd begins to cheer so that Michael Buffer has to shout to be heard: WEARING LAVENDER, CERISE, AND MAUVE LEATHER TIGHTS WITH A BUILT IN UZI HOLSTER, HAILING FROM EAST TEXAS, WHERE EVERYTHING IS BIGGER, THE REIGNING UNIVERSAL BAD ASS AND MEGLADON OF METAPHORE, THE GODZILLA OF GAB, THE RINGLEADER OF RHETORIC, THE EXECUTIONER OF EXPOSTULATION, THE BIRDBRAINED FLAMEE'S WORST NIGHTMARE... Weighing an even 181.524 pound.... ALLLLLLLLLLISONNNNNNNNN WWWWWONNNNNDERLAAAAAAAAND!

The crowd goes into paroxyisms of enthusiasm... there is screammmmming and yelllllling and it takes almost ten minutes for the capacity crowd to settle down again. Even BT's chirping section is chirping for AW... they know a winner when they see one.

BT stands sheepishly, looking down at his six toes... wondering how he got sucked into doing this... He thinks: "That goddamned Awetoss!"

Michael Buffer exits the ring and Mills Lane brings the atagonists to the center of the ring. "I want a clean fight... Any one got any questions?" Both opponents shake their heads negatively... "OK... Let's get it on!" says Mills, and he gets out of the way.

AllisonWonderland leans over and whispers into BirdTribe's ear... "mnmnmnmmnmmmm mnmnm mnmnmnmmmmmnmmmmm mmnnnmnm mnnmnm!" And with that BirdTribe falls to the floor. Flattening himself out, his shoulders (do birds have shoulders?) pressed firmly to the canvas, he lies there immobile. Lane drop to his knees and intones... ONE, TWO, THREEEEEE accompanying each number with a slap to the mat.

This is amazing!!! The audience, mouths agape, come to their feet as one, cheering. It appears that AW has defeated BT with just a whispered message.

BT arises grinning from ear to ear... eyes glassy and he is obviously sexually aroused!!!... His corner crew is flabbergasted! They leave the ring in disgrace and disgust... BirdTribe follows.

AllisonWonderland is standing victorious with his hands raised in victorious victory after his victory over the vanquished victim, BT.... It is a victorious victory over a vanquished victim of AW's victorious victory!

Tippie Hedren makes her way to where AW is standing and infront of the NBC Peacock bedecked camera says to AW: "This is indeed a great victory... you didn't even lay a hand on him and he was just vanquished ignominiously..." AW smiles and says: "It was nothing!" "Nothing?" asks Tippie... "what did you say to him that had such amazing results?" AW replies: "I told him that if he would lose, that I would get him a date with Miss Piggy!" "That's it?" asks Tippie? "That's it!" replies AllisonWonderland, "after all I knew that a pig-fucker like BT couldn't turn down such an offer?"

Michael Buffer re-enters the ring and intones into the mike... "The winner and still heavyweight champion of the whole flockking world.... ALLISONNNNNN WONNNNNDERLANNNNNND!

Once again the crowd cheers and sustains the cacaphony until the announcement is made: "AllisonWonderland has left the building!" With that the audience falls into a silence, and begins to saunter out of the arena.

Meanwhile... BirdTribe is alone in his dressing room, when a knock comes on the door... BT sits up and says: "Miss Piggy.... is that you?"

Then Miss Piggies manager, Porky intones: "Bedebede, that' all flocks!!!"

The Legend of Reignbough Chase

By James C. Allison

1.
Reignbough Chase is born one morning,
As a spectrum flashes across the sky.
His life drones on till dawn...when...
He suddenly awakens to a new and newer mourning.

2.
Our hero, Reignbouth Chase,
Finds himself in the meadows
At the edge of
An endless black desert.

3.
Rising sharply from the foothills
Is a mountain,
Upon which is an occasional
Outcropping of precious stones.

4.
Reignbough contents himself with meadows
That deserts change to mountains,
But he dimly knows there'll come a time
When he will have to go a-climbing.

5.
The mountain rising sharply from
The endless black desert ends, he hears,
In the spires of the mighty fortress Unseen,
A palace of four rooms and an inner chamber.

6.
The rooms reputedly are called by name:
The first, "The World";
Next, "Fortune and Fame";
The third, "Power and Glory";
And the fourth, "Honor and Respect".

7.
Huge doors, huge hinges and
A monstrous "Lock of Darkness"
Designed to keep out mediocrity
Stand sentinel.

8.
A "Key of Light" is given Reignbough
By a spirit that bids him hasten,
For it is with some amount of urgency
That the words: "Soon", and "End" are used.

9.
And not being one to doubt the spirit,
Reignbough sets out posthaste
To find the monstrous Lock of Darkness
That fits the "Key of Light".

10.
To know something of the mountain
Would aid him in his quest.
Where to rest, which ledge is best,
Which face to start the scale.

11.
Some go with no knowledge of climbing,
Some go like mountain goats.
Some use sophisticated equipment,
And some only their bare hands.

12.
Some get others to do the climbing for them,
Some go climb for others.
Some go, only to turn back,
And others go, never to be heard of again.

13.
Now Reignbough keeps the "Key of Light"
Hidden in a black box,
Taking it only occasionally to look at it,
Or show it to a friend.

14.
He hears that the Doors of Darkness
To which he hold the key
Are huge and hard, with mighty hinge,
To exclude mediocrity.

15.
Two problems now face Reignbough Chase:
How to get across the Endless Black Desert;
And how to cope with what he'll find
Inside the mighty fortress "Unseen".

16.
Wandering in the Desert holds no terror for Reignbough,
He had done that on occasion.
But "soon" goads him and "end" makes him Moody and Blue.
Till he remembers that "Thinking is the best way to travel."

17.
So thinking "Across" the desert,
Reignbough starts his climb.
And 'ere long he reaches the balustrades
Of the mighty fortress "Unseen".

18.
Working his way around this base
For of course, he'd climbed the back face,
He comes to the "Doors of Darkness"
And they are greater than huge!

19.
Carved on the doors are images of men,
Doing whatever thay can do to get invited in.
Around the bottom graffiti, and pictures,
Madonnas, Princes, The King and others.

20.
No light, no sound, not even silence penetrates.
And being as how he's climed for some time,
Reignbough sits down to rest.
And he waits...

21.
The spirits urgings of "soon' and "end" he remembers,
What this all means makes Reignbough puzzle,
But not being one to doubt the spirit,
He stands and faces the doors.

22.
The feelings of triumph, finally "here",
Fill Reignbough with excited emotion.
He takes out the "Key of Light", he inserts it
Into the "Lock of Darkness"...

23.
It must be stuck... the lock is rusted...
Or else this not the key...
For naught he probes the keyhole of Darkness
To the huge doors of eternity before him.

24.
He stands silent... unbelieveing. How can this be?
He'd been given the key...
Bid hasten with words of "soon" and "end".
And now the lock proves impenetrable.

25.
Reignbough begins to feel strangely about himself, those he loves,
And the world around him.
What does this all mean?
He muses and a glow comes to surround him.

26.
And as he stands there, he has the feeling
That not with one Reignbough is he dealing,
But many of him wear his face
And all call themselves Reignbough Chase.

27.
Some are angry, some are gruff,
Some are sad, and so depressed.
One is scared and so afraid,
And one is mean and nasty.

28.
But from this crazed confusion
A plan of action comes...
And all the Reignboughs get together
To help him on his way.

29.
Yoga, The Tao, Philosophy of Hindu...
Science of Mind, Chants, Trance, and Voodoo...
Ceremony, Magic, Ritual, Breathing proper...
The din of how becomes a howl that ends in insane laughter.

30.
Wouldn't it be easier for me
To choose a nicer life?
To take my ease, do as I please
And maybe take a wife?, thinks he.

31.
But the urgings of "soon" and "end"
Flood over his trepidations about his quest.
And so he has to formulate
A way to pass this test.

32.
He puts away the key, back into its box.
And runs off all the other Reignboughs,
Who only serve to confuse him
Into action fragmentary.

33.
And in time he comes to question whether
He had actually seen those others,
The puppet dolls, imposters
Who say they are his brothers.

34.
Perchance to go crazy, that would get him in...
But probably not to mighty fortress "Unseen".
Though where they'd put him,
Is a very "IN" place to be.

35.
Reignbough begins to wander aimlessly
Around in front of the monstrous planes of wood.
When suddenly a grand commotion, like the deafening roaring of an ocean,
Is coming up the road where he now stood.

36.
A crowd so large as to be forever uncounted,
Diverse and wonderous, he sees...
With music and dancing, victors and vanquishing...
Every kind advancing in roaring tumult.

37.
Scared out of his wits,
Reignbough retreats And hiding behind the drawbridge,
Watches in utter amazement as the doors open,
And through the gaping portal parades the crowd.

38.
Some stragglers barely make it in
Before the great doors close again,
And once again Reignbough finds himself
Standing alone in silence.

39.
Why it opened, how they did it puzzles him for no short time.
He has the key to the massive lock, it didn't work,
And in his shock, he throws it at
The intricately carved doors.

40.
Though the sound is not loud, it apparently is heard,
For to his surprise the doors open,
Just enough to let him squeeze in,
But not before retrieveing the "Key of Light".

41.
Inside the huge doors is a huge hall,
Lighted with spotlights of all sizes and colors.
Each glowing brightly on this person or that,
But never on anyone too long.

42.
With all kinds of raucous behaviour and prank,
The party continues...
Until while trying to put away the key,
Reignbough drops it on the floor with a clank.

43.
The sound of the falling key echos through the hall,
And the din come to a stillness with a snuffle and a cough.
And everyone in the great room ceases
Their aimless shuffle and turn to look at Reignbough.

44.
"the Key", someone whispers, "He has 'The Key'."
And comes a mighty roar,
And on their shoulder they lift him
And carry him to the next great door.

45.
They all avow to be his friend, to be his comrade to the "end"
Beggars and rich men, starver with silver spoons,
All rejoicing that through the next doors
They will enter "soon".

46.
Again feeling the triumph of finally "here",

Fills Reignbough with unexpected emotions,
And taking the "Key of Light", he inserts it Into the
"Lock of Darkness", and gives it a twist...

47.
"It must be stuck", "The lock is rusted",
"Or else this not the key",
Was heard in various languages
By those that surrounded him.

48.
Once again Reignbough finds himself dispairing
The fate that has befallen him.
And he longs for the meadows that are serene
And the sun shines there, (at lest some of the time).

49.
Again he has the feeling that
He isn't dealing with but one Reignbough Chase.
But many wear his face
And they all call themselves by his name.

50. But this time they are happy and glad,
Instead of mean, spiteful and sad.
One is even quite effusive,
But none are borish or abusive.

51.
And from the joyous din of him,
Comes a plan of action.
And all the Reignboughs get together,
To help him on his way.

52.
Acrid smoke, spirits and substance,
Cops and robbers, the form and appearance.
What all and what not assails him after
And the din of how becomes a howl that ends in insane laughter.

53.
Wouldn't it be nicer to just enjoy the party?
And not worry about the next unopened door?
But the words "soon" and "end" buzz in his head,
So relentlessly he pushes on.

54.
It had worked once, Maybe it would work again.
So telling all to "Stand Back!",
Reignbough takes out the key and taking careful aim,
Throws it at the massive doors.

55.
Though the sound is not loud, it apparently is heard,
For to his surprise the doors open.
Just enough to let him alone squeeze in,
But not before retrieving the "Key of Light".

56.
Inside the next room,
The one called "fortune and Fame",
Presided over by a huge rooster
Who glories in his game.

57.
Is all kind of peculiar goings on,
The sound of money made by song,
The brightness of the spotlights here
Make the previous room dim by compare.

58.
They all become silent when Reignbough walks in,
Because no one there has ever seen
The great doors open, or even knew they could.
Some tried to leave, but the doors were shut.

59.
And there stands Reignbough, the attraction center,
Infront of the doors through which he entered.
"The Key! He has the Key!" comes the cry,
And there is great rejoicing.

60.
'Twould sound like common name-dropping to say who all is here.
"Tis like the cover of a Lonely Hearts Club Band.".
And though it's an awfully lot of fun, the thought of being there,
Forever in this glare, urges Reignbough on.

61.
Some pass through fame and fortune,
And become the superstars and do the things that other mortals can't.
To them is given "Power and Glory",
And entrance to the next room.

62.
A feeling of triumph, of finally "here"
Fills Reignbough with emotion burning,
So out with the key and into the lock,
He inserts it before turning...

63.
It must be stuck, the lock is rusted,
Or else this not the key... for no matter how
He wiggles it, no matter how he jiggles it,
The lock impenetrable remains.

64.
"Stand Back!" yells Reignbough,
And gives the key a fling,
It strikes the door and makes the angels sing,
For the doors of "Power and Glory" open wide.

65.
Well, at least wide enough
To let Reignbough squeeze in,
Before quickly closing again,
But not before he retrieves the "Key of Light".

66.
Inside the doors is an ever greater hall,
Greater than the world,
Greater than Fame and Fortune,
And here there is no frenzied whirl.

67.
And in this room like a court or tomb,
Are maps of victory and conquest.
And those who plot here are dressed
In costume with medals on their chests.

68.
And while most are murmuring low,
And making plans that barely show,
From the room comes a strange silent grace,
For in their midst stands Reignbough Chase.

69.
"The Key!, He has the Key",
They congratulate,
"Now to go on (and on and on)...
To levels ungraduated."

70.
Well, knowing that the key won't turn,
And knowing in his heart, the only way...
To open doors is to throw the key,
Reignbough hurls the key without warning.

71.
"You can't do that! This is the War Room!"
Comes the immediate implore,
Which soon comes to "Hurrumph"
As opens slowly the great door.

72.
Not very wide and oh so slowly,
Encouraged many to lift their voices,
In expressed amazement that anyone could so easily breech
The formidible barriers of "Honor and Respect".

73.
The doors open only enough to let Reignbough in,
Then closed as slowy as they had opened.
For all assembled there to see,
But not before he retrieved the key.

74.
Smack dab in the middle of "Honor and Respect" stands he.
It takes his breath away.
Those assembled, eyes half closed like statues heavenly,
Murmured no approval, and all appear to pray.

75.
In fact they hardly notice,
For hardly anyone is there.
But those few chosen, less than a dozen
Whisper... "He has the Key!"

76.
By this time, Reignbough Chase has had it up to here.
So to be outrageous, show he is courageous,
He does a dance, a pannish prance,
And heaves again the key.

77.
Laughter! (well, not quite laughter)
But really polite indulgence.
For the key strikes the door and falls to the floor,
And to Reignbough's amazement nothing happens!

78.
Once again Reignbough starts to feel strange,
Insecure,
For obviously among so distinguished a group,
He must be either novice or impure.

79.
Not knowing exactly what to do,
Reignbough picks up the key and throws it once again.
Only this time harder...
Again laughter, but this time louder.

80.
A third time would do no good,
If twice already failed, But then it dawns on him...
Maybe this is the Lock of Darkness
That fits the Key of Light.

81.
And now the feeling of triumph, of finally being "here"
Floods upon our hero.
And Reignbough's eyes now elevate,
Into the lock the key insers, And tremblingly rotates...

82.
It was not stuck, the lock not rusted,
For he had the only key...
Across other floors, through other doors,
Were not the portals of eternity.

83.
But this one is... and though it now be unlocked,
It Never-the-less wouldn't come open!
"Wouldn't come open?" "WOULDN'T COME OPEN?"
The phrase sticks in his mind, his throat, Inconceivable!

84.
The dispair is inconceivable, the disappointment, Inconceivable.
What IS going on? He'd come through the world, fame and fortune,
Honor and respect, power and glory, to the inner sanctum
And now though the key fit, the door wouldn't come open!

85.
He says outloud, and with a great sigh,
"What's the use?
I've been at this so long,
And I've done a lot, Maybe this is it!

86.
Maybe I should drive a taxi...
Take the famous and fortunate from here to there.
The powerful and glorious from there to here.
And the honorable and respectable from where ere to where ere!

87.
And while all this filled his mind with contemplation,
About his life and mystical, magical, esoteric stuff,
Earth, Water, Fire, and Air stuff...
Ancient wisdom and supernatural phenomenon type stuff.

88.
It simply comes like an idea...
Maybe the door isn't locked in the first place.
Knock and it shall open,
Like the working of amazing grace.

89.
It is worth a try, so to the door he goes.
Approaching it carefully, looking at the hinges,
He notices the size and blank strngth of the entrance.
He raises his hand and knock gently... three raps.

90.
And the door opens slowly, without a sound.
The door, the door is opening...
To the amazement of all around
quot;He has 'The Key'" (whispered!)

91.
Reignbough is confronted with a sight most exquisite.
In an IMMENSE room, soundless, on a velvet covered pedestal,
A living Crystal Skull, with one Ruby eye and one Emerald eye
And Golden teeth that ring when it speaks.

92.
Behind the Ruby and Emerald eyes, a light begins to play.
Its source is preternatural and what it has to say,
Deals with all the human foibles, indecision, tooth decay,
And death at the middle of the endless black desert.

93.
"What is this?
Anyhow?" Reignbough says aloud,
And the skull refrains from ringing speak,
And turns our hero's way.

94.
And in the silence then that follows,
Almost embarrassed is poor Reignbough.
And it seems an eternity,
Before the skull begins to answer...

96.
"Well! I see you finally got here,
It's so good to have you here.
It's so easy once you get here
Just to stay.

96.
Reignbough is stunned by the beauty of the voice.
Not at all what he thought death to sound like.
Not a man's voice, but not female either,
Rather, like the sound of all humanity speaking.

97.
And now Reignbough recognizes the light in the skull,
It's the spirit that gave him the key...
And he is stunned that imprisioned In a garden
Inside the skull is she.

98.
"Reignbough Chase" says the skull,
"You knocked and I let you in...
I lured you here so cleverly and slow.
I've made sure that you did everything."

99.
"To be in any of the rooms
Is a very nice place to be.
But one soon tires of one's desires
Fulfilled endlessly."

100.
"And to reach the inner chamber is the goal of every man.
And they search for it in many different ways.
They all find there the same thing, the same way and the same game,
And many spend the time disagreeing on its name."

101,
It seems to Reignbough that he's been here before,
Though it seems like in a dream.
In the healing silence of the inner chamber,
A feeling so serene floods in upon him.

102.
And now he is bewilderred, encouraged, encoward,
Enveloped, not knowing exactly why or how or even who
He is or why or how or who he is supposed to be or...or...
"Wait Just a minute!" he cries.

103.
"What does this all mean?
And why am I here?
I mean... I mean, I'm just minding my own business...
And some spirit gives me a key!"

104.
"And why do you say you lured me?
When I probably would have come anyway?
With or without the key,
Doesn't every man eventually pass this way?"

105.
Then from inside the skull the spirit speaks.
In a voice small but certain,
And says: "He lured you here behind the curtain
Because I bet him you'd never make it!"

106.
"And he bet me that you would.
And because all is fair in love and war,
He lured you to goad you on!
With ugings of "soon" and "end. "

107.
"I though you'd "soon" tire,
And "end" would never come,
And you would surely give up the quest divine,
To entreat me to leave this garden of mine."

108.
And then in a voice so shy and coy,
The muse within the crystal skull,
Says to our you boy, "Reignbough,
We could stay here forever."

109.
"NO! I've seen too much of this kind of thing." says Reignbough,
"The inner chamber swallows another poor defenseless fool.
NO! Let's get out of here,
What are you afraid of?"

110.
"I'm shy!" is the muse's reply.
"Shy?" screams the skull, "She's scared!
She think that you're some kind of...
Dope smoking, sex-craze, religious phreak-o, With keys hidden in your pockets!"

111.
"But I'm not! I'm not!
I'm not anything like you describe.
I'm a serious artist,
Who has been given the keys to unlock the doors, that's all!"

112.
And that I got into the inner chamber,
Is all very fortuitous, but would it not be better
Just to face the fact,
That I come and go as I please?"

113.
"And now that I have found you,
How can I live without you?"
Says Reignbough to the Muse.
"You're much too beautiful to be kept secret."

114.
"Oh Yeah?" cries the skull,
"Well what in the hell makes you think
That you can come and go
As you please?"

115.
"And you can live, not well mayhaps,
But live without her none-the-less.
But she remains a secret, as the prize in our bet!"
And the Skull begins to explain.

116.
"I bet her you would get here,
She bet that you would not.
And if you did, that she would stay forever...
And since you're here, she stays!"

117.
Reignbough turns to face them both,
For now they are the same...
And slowly makes this reply,
In measured tones with level eye:

118.
"Am I not free? Am I in bondage to anything?
Does not every door swing both ways?
Can anything, any power that exists,
Restrain my action should I decide to act?"

119.
"I come and go at my own will,
To live with or live without you...
And you O Skull, have no power,
For by my coming, I have ended your game."

120.
"There is nothing you can do,
To make me crawl or cower,
For if you deign to deal with me,
You increase my worth and power."

121.
"She's no longer your secret only,
For I now know her beauty,
And I have told my friend and family,
I intend to leave, and take her along, and you can never stop me."

122.
"For I have loved many women,
But never loved one more...
And we all wait to see
What's behind the monstrous door."

123.
"And to say your way is better,
Now you know that isn't fair,
Don't try to tell me how to go,
If you've ne'er been there."

124.
So the skull in its ringly way
Described the task at hand.
What we must learn, what we must do,
What we must understand.

125.
"The things", it says,
"Now number three:
Get in, Get out,
And in-between just be."

126.
Then the preternatural light source,
From between the skull's two eyes,
Like phantasmic phosphenes,
In an eidolon's demise,

127.
Plead with eloquent display
For a speedy quick release,
But its pleas ar only drowned out,
By the ringing of the teeth.

128.
That everything must have a meaning,
Means: There's a lot of work undone,
She says: "the time has come, I fear...
To try to get me out of here...

129.
"So watch this with your eyes, you guys,
Watch me while I play and dance
And try to remember what to say
In this vast deserted wasteland."

130.
Vusicalumia is her name,
Lumic art muse is her game
Video will be her fame
Welcome the tenth daughter of Zeus!

131.
Come, look into her lucid eyes,
With diamonds in Kaleidoscope skies,
And overcome the skull's foul lies
About death in endless deserts.

132.
"But", says the skull...
"Getting in was easy, compared.
Being in in the interim was interesting...
But getting out will be the trip!"

133.
"For now you will have to go back through the rooms,
To which you had no right, save birth,
But now they all will want you to stay with them."
And this so bewilders Reignbough that...

134.
He taking the key in both his hands,
Brings it, with all his might,
Down on the skull, which crumble to dust...
And like a genie from a bottle rises the muse.

135.
And with that the dream endeth,
She's here for all to see,
And I have loved her all my life,
Now she doth loveth me!

wHaT bIG bOyz? i dOn' sEe nO sTiNkiNG biG bOyZ!
aLL i sEe iS a BunCh oF pEe pAntEd pOo-pOo faCed litTLe giRLz.
gO pLaY wiTh > yOuR baRbiEs liTtlE giRlzieS oR yOu miGhT jUs' gEt a sPanKinG.
yA sEe hOw QuiCk liTtlE viCki cUt aNd RaN?

bY thE waY...
a cRaZy hoRsE
cAn'T cOunT tO tWo
sO hE eNd uP aS
eLmeR's gLuE
oR bEtTeR yEt
mAlaMutE fOod
sTiLL beTteR oFf
tHaN cAts aNd qUeERs
wiTh mItEs aNd Q-tiPs
iN tHeiR eaRs
aNd dReaMs oF cOnqUesTs
oF yEstEryeaR
whO aRe nO maTcH
foR tHe baNdeRsNatcH
wHo LeaVes a PatcH
oF fuR beHinD
fOR reCoLLecTiOn
tO reMinD
tHat iF yOusE waNts
tO taKe yOuR tuRn
YoUsE gOnNa eNd uP
fOod foR ~woRm~. UuUmMmMm...
tAsTy! ~~~;-P~~~~~~
~~~ biTE mE!
~woRm~

T---I can say that you are merely a figment of my
imagination and have no inherent existence whatsoever, being
merely an appearance of a sentient being. I know that you do
not truly exist, that you are a fiction, an ongoing story appearing
to have an imaginary past and an equally imaginary present and future.
I know that you do not exist except as a character in the story,
a story which has become aware of itself as a story being a
sentience existing as long as the story continues to appear.
There is no other self-awareness only this self-awareness which
appears as sentience-awareness. I have heard the awful word of the
eternal. I have been an ancient gazing into a mirror, seeing the face
of his beloved and then, poignantly, seeing that this face of the
beloved is a thin disguise for his own heart's longing for a
non-existent other. The romantic dream once dissolved cannot be
re-imagined.
I have seen that everything is just a dream, that I am dreaming myself
dreaming, dreams within dreams that a dreamer dreams, for there is no
awakening, there is no enlightenment, wisdom is awareness of the total
ignorance of anything other than mysterious self-awareness. There is
no awakening because there is nothing outside of yourself or different
to yourself, or other than what you are experiencing. In the void
there is no Self or SELF unless you want to give yourself some
capitalised status, otherwise in truth, in the void, its just you, as
you are, not as some yet to be attained different self, or greater
self or wiser self or anything other than how you are with all your
lamentable perplexity and ignorance of anything other than your
self-awareness which is essentially inexplicable.
Being as relaxed as you want to be with your total solitude and
absolute surprise is a strategy, make it tense, make it soft, be in
bliss, be in boredom, be in desperation, whatever there is no answer
or original source of origin or knowing or explanation. What you know
is all that you can ever know and what you know is that you cannot
remember how you got to be at this position in the void without
reference, with any hope of any knowing. Being with your ignorance,
with your possibly eternal ignorance.
If I don't know there is unfortunately nobody else, not even an
imaginary anybody else, who can know. The essence angst of being god
is the quandry of being completely ignorant of anything other than
yourself because there is nothing other than yourself.
OK so there are the cardboard cut-out visuals, the appearances of
sentience, but these have no self-awareness whatsoever and act as a
pass-time, and I suppose that is all that there is, the story being
re-imagined and re-imagined and re-drafted even before it has happened
and it never really does happen, merely appears to happen.
I am laden with disease, a human petri-dish of viral, bacterial and
fungal infections rampaging in a mortally ill body. What a story,
where will it all begin? If I don't know, nobody else does and the
interesting or boring feature is that I do not know, the story unfolds
in a sort of interactive way. Passes the time.

Yo Valerie, Hamlet hereth,
Tis nice today that ye be neareth.
Tis also nice that notst be near,
Our blasphemous odd-friend GrobbyBeer.
And Allison of Wonderland, respondeth
To Eric of the 4th Way,
And getteth response from Gnaustica
In his contining foray.

Wouldst write more,
But duty calleth,
Must here sign-offeth
And to sleep falleth,
To produce eternity,
In solipsistic infinity,
And to show which way to go,
To the kittens and the fauxs.

Impossible, you sayeth?
Not around here, for we all playeth,
Stick around and you might grow,
Out of being the Pilsbury Boy of Dough!

Beith this from Hogan's Heros? :)
Or is this "g" from "Hairy Egos"?
Who turns out in the game of faux
To be the Pilsbury "Boy of Dough!

And that includeth you!
Who is as weak as Winnie of Pooh!
Who turns up lame, his wraith writ show-eth
To be the Pilsbury "Boy of Dough"-eth!

This be A'nerd'rea Chin and her side kick Hairy Ego...
Where ere' she leadeth him, he must meekly go!
But soon enough, he might grow
Into the Pilsbury "Bore of Dough"!

This be Allison I guess,
Who soon will continue on his quest,
And leave this vale, to post no more,
To the Pilsbury "Doughlike Bore"!

But till he leaves his keyboard trusty,
W hile un-risen "g" beith un-crusty,
And then half-baked, where will you go?
My little Piss boy of Pilsbury dough?

Every where, one seeith them,
And not ev'ry one can beeith them,
And when Hell's fire be cov'd in snow,
Then we'll all like the " Bore of Dough"

Ah, count the caps, count them do,
Be this the aformentioned Winnie of POOH?
So propose a toast of fine French Bordeaux
To the now mortally wounded "Bore of Dough"!

And so you are reduced to crying DORK,
You probably think babies are deliverd by stork,
Your ignorance you do noweth show,
My dear little Pilsbury "Bore of Dough"!

Yet here you are, down and dirty,
Potty mouth and hurdy gurdy,
Who can notst keep up with the eloquent flow
You soft, half-baked, little "Bore of Dough"

Back to potty mouth you must resort,
Showing bad sport in your retort.
For you're so far behind, you know,
You sweet little boy of Pilsbury dough!

Perhapst thou knowst not assured?
If not, then renders thee un-averred
For ev'ry musician knowest this whirl,
You are less a Stravinski, than a Spice Girl. :)

You Maestro, were not on the point,
Twas I that rolled us up this joint,
Editeth I the drool thee wryte,
To give it sense to those whost syght,
Upon it is cast in even lyght,
And naught it costs, not a sou
Tis a gift from me, tis free to you. :)

Most probst be true,
But as has been sayd,
Rock'n'Roll will neer be dead,
It beeith meat, while oth be milk
You are less an Elvis, and more Lawrence Welk.
OK so the rhyme be less than fair,
Tis but poetic license that you seeith there! :)

Still when educated blokes,
Can see in it the musical jokes,
Then spelling names be of no concern,
But to play the music and make it burn,
Tis the basis for that rocked and rolled,
Tis YOUR dogmaticisms that be cold.

That thou didst not get it the first time,
Means not that Allison did fail,
Your tendency, not to see,
And blame it on invalidity,
Marks thee as musical as Phillip K. Dick,
And as Ian says, "Thick as a Brick!" :)

Onest maye think that on his ladder rung,
Are all the songs that maye be sung,
Or in his can of bug-spray Rayd (Raid!),
Are all the songs that can be play'd
So what needest now be to explain'd,
Before the interest all be drained,
What is the difference tween the wail,
Of as Lydian mode and a minor scale?
Thou mayst be free of the diatonic cell,
But thou be burnest in a Lydian Hell,
So soon you dwell in a Greek abode,
Your Lydian be seen and raised a Dorian Mode.

Twere you to try to be a sculpture,
And do it when it shines and raines,
You would be good at welding up,
Mufflers and bicycle chains.

And there to be stuck,
Een though you love it,
Is still to be stuck,
Till you rise above it.

This be the way to fortune and fame?
To be recognized and evry one knoweth thy name,
But Clair de'Lune, will neer be THIS junk,
What you playe maye beeist rhythmic, but the sound be punk.

But to accept one, and eschew the other,
Tis like loving thy sister but not thy brother,
And when is called the piper tune,
You'll never play the Viper Room!

To be a Coltrane imitation,
Is like having a Zen denomination,
And where you fail and do go wrong,
Is to know the notes but not the song.

And what has water and dogs to do,
Wyth music sweet and songs so "blue"?
You sound once more your whistle of tin,
And as Ronnies sayd: "There you go again!"

Whenst thou was the lead dog
In an act of some reknown?
Or was that when you were a fool-ah
Playing with the Hoops of Hula!

Oh fuckest thou M,S, and R
Twould be like wishing on a star,
Whatst I would really like to hear,
Is what is honey in Gnaustica's ear.

Knowest not of that kind of shine,
For I be but a Shakespeare swine,
But what if itst be so, dear "g"
that he can light like sound to be?
Tis sure there must be some relation,
And it maye give synaesthetic sensation.

Pormentiissimo... bad word,
Look it up, it be un-averred
Pormentiissimo... be not good,
Looks like imitation wood,
But Portamento be no joke,
Methinks you were just blowing smoke!

Butst heareth only 20 to 20,000 Hz
And canst see only twelve color bursts.
But that be not the fault of vibes
And not een one of your diatribes,
Can change the fact that it may be,
We see and hear limitedly.

Tis all in fun, thou knowest it true,
for who is me and who is you,
Is just the game that you and I play,
To easily passeth the time away,
But this be sayd, and it be true,
Gnaustica, I am proud of you!
But do not puff or get too haughty,
You made it through w'out a mouth full of potty!

Plato's republic! I know it well,
It too is but a Lydian hell,
Along with it goes its dual-arch rivals,
The Quran and the Catholic Bible.

Your negative superlatives to Blundernad,
Exposes thy anger for being had,
But to drop the act and write anew,
Anything thou canst do, HE can do too!
And so on they go by anon name,
As King of Faux remaineth the Game,
And when thou art ready to look and see,
The friends that you and HE could be,
But till then this is my concern,
And in the music it doeth burn,
To wait until the ~woRm~ doth turn
Gnaustica when will you ever learn?

This beith droll,
Wonderland's org,
Showst to be a troll,
These guys be good,
When you need him
Wherest be RobinHood?

Or mightst that be like being had,
By the ultimate Mister Bad,
For you'll look and you'll search
But be left in the lurch,
When you messin' wid SIR GALLAHAD!

Dere CiRe, thou art so conserv,
Dere CiRE, thou sheweth not a lot of verve,
Dere CiRE, buttress up thy nerve,
Et from this quest thou must not swerve.
He sees himself as fairy prancer,
He be a singer, but not a dancer.

Naught would say that "g" be hip,
Resembs a rat on a sinking ship.
W' a nibble there and a nibble here,
W' hopes of angst, which he holds so dere,
And outst of his box of Pandora's curse,
And too contain'd in Andrea's purse,
He picts himself as a Bengal Lancer,
He be a zinger, but not a dancer!

The compliment be lost on hym,
This pervey'r of the lightbulb dim,
Who singeth not Polyhymnia's hymn,
His bovine feces grows dire(rhea) thin!
And (yawnnn) he sayd it again and again,
Onst it his hopes he doth pin,
He sees himself as a DonJuan Romancer,
He be a singer, but not a dancer.

Imagineth he that HE be the riddle,
And changes not a "jot or tittle",
To get the goat and slaught the lamb,
And perfect the effect of the body slam.
To seek him out and find the ID
Tis the reas, for what he did,
He sees himself as a tanklike Panzer,
He be a zinger, but not a danzer!

And like the hare, who eats the carrot,
And cries of the cyn that flows in his claret,
And imagines that when he flex his muscles,
That it will cleanse his toxic corpuscles,
And what he misseth un-interjected,
Is that it's his brain that be infected,
And eateth away like un-welcom'd cancer,
He beith a singer, but not a dancer.

He spewith out his shit and piss
Sometimes he hit sometimes he miss,
Imagineth he that it be import,
To act like a Londondary Air Wart,
And then when called to account,
he Comes on like a Canadian mountie,
For knoweth not the final answer,
He be a singer, but not a dancer.

The smokescreen of the little "g"
Conceal naught his own frailtee
He has but to measure his own erection,
To have reveal'd his own imperfection,
But as the circle comes full round,
And "g" is continually put down,
That ev'ry one maye see askanse,
That he may sing, but canst not dance!

Darest intrude, dearest Rick?
T hou mayst well feele a lyttle syk,
Still to be of gainsay profit,
Beggest I, thee to concur
In a lystn of what be sayd
While thy sneaketh on each othyr,

Like the fortunes of the Tarot,
Like the Tree of Sepheroth,
Where cards be held by ENTITIE
And words earthwatyrairefyre be,
And playd as when occasion ariseth
Or tyme be ripe and cyclic.

Thys kynd of thyng be goin on
Since the dayes of Bacon,
And as Hamlet says: "To be or not to be!"
Aynd should thee be looking
At who be doeth what,
Most surely should you also miss
Not what be sayd, but HOW it's... saith.

Thou whyne be-rings thee knowing non,
Evince the playes of DejaCom
And as Hamlet says:
"Alas, poor YouRick, I knew him well."
And who be-rueths rooking,
Dost burely trod thru anonymous,
Wrot snotty raid, cut now, hits me... wraith.

Bye exampyl, the FEW arose,
They are easy to expose,
But remembereth that e'en though
Thou can out-yell, and vulgar and,
Fauxland Motel, and Blunderland,
Still thyst cannotst do what the FEW do,
Till mayst de-knotst thru lots of hoodoo.
When all is sayd and finished, through,
and all that then is left... is for you...

To do to him what he has done to others.
Dinna curse him any longer,
for the things that he besayd.
And as ***SPV taketh credit for the drop in crime,
And Gnaustica takes credit for the rise in the quality of writ,
That pervades the alt.solipsism NewsGroup,
the wittiest on the web.

It mattereth not that he couldst not keep pace,
And so to keep from losing face,
The ENTITY has decyded to erase,
And leave a yawning empty place,
Where once rang poetry from plaint
Where dunce harrangue, w' no restraint
Fill lungs with blood,
In an byg hot tub,
And with no desire,
To embaras, CiRE,
but his org, doth hold the answer see,
And Helter Skelter it may be,
On Donner and Blitzen, on Fuzznuts and Prancer,
Gnaustica may be a singer,
But he (sure as hell) ain't no Dancer!

Hamlet