"…and not for five minutes will I be distracted from the wonder…"

the arising…

Uncategorized — d-ashes on July 23, 2004 at 4:22 pm

hadn’t heard much out of strathnavern in a while…rumor has it he was up in oxford approving designs for a new tattoo that rasta ron was drawing up for him (a little dumpster diving by the guy manning the a&w desk up there yielded something about the tazmanian devil battling the road runner)…but fear not, he’s back with the cure..

Dear Derriere,
I owe you an apology. This stationary phase is most lamentable. I feel that it is requisite that something be done to remedy this neglect. Undoubtedly some jostling, gyrating, and oscillating would prove beneficial for both us. Do you have any suggestions for Friday night? I was hoping that we could rendezvous harmoniously in an effort to put this period of inactivity behind us [*cough*].

Most Notably,

Dear Brain,
Your reaching out was most welcomed. I was beginning to think that you and the left tibia…well, never mind. But I think we could get the old routine going again Friday at Martin’s for The Vamps. Their laid back grooves tend to crescendo into fever pitch inspiration; for me that is. But who am I kidding, you’ll be bobbing right with me. I’ll be sure to get in touch with the foot that taps, and you know liver will be down. Good to hear from you, old bean.

A thousand thanks,


-Gout Temptation? Hmm, probably not. Gundog Tantrum? Nah.
-Hey, what’s up?
-Nothing, I’m just trying to come up with as many combinations of “G” and “T.”
-Well, you know that pair that plays acoustics after Pub Quiz? Yeah, Scanlon and…uh, the other guy. Yup, their full band is playing Julep this Saturday. And they’re called the GT’s. Problem is, I don’t know what the hell it stands for.
-I see. Maybe it’s, Gangrenous Theodore. I doubt it. What about Gradual Tar-baby. Not likely. Or Gringo Toothpaste? Are you nuts? It’s probably Griddle Tit. Gibraltar’s Tetherball? Geriatric Typhoon? Gluteus Trumpet?
-Jeez, I hope not.


I was thinking about something the other day. Is there a dumber name for a sports franchise than the Sports? Well that’s what the geniuses in Shreveport approved. Holy shit, spend *ten* minutes on developing a name. Well regardless, somebody’s brother-in-law got a check for that one. But feel free to vent your beer-soaked puzzlement at the poor bastards that have to wear this lemonade-stand attempt at branding this Friday, Saturday, and Sunday at Smith Wills. Just to get you started, Sports not only rhymes with shorts, but it is also the title of a grotesquely successful Huey Lewis album.

Strathnavern Dunkheld-Fowles IV, Esq. (Ret.)

P.S. Despite popular perception, William Winter did not regularly appear on Black Gold incognito. However, claims of his administration being nothing but a party held true.

P.P.S. Why must you continue to confuse Richard Attenborough and Richard Simmons.

P.P.S. A harvest’s worth of persimmons would prove a fair trade for shrub-perched glances of Lady Matilda’s next zealous turn on the yard swing.


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