RE: FLUXLIST: woman
uh this was good! Original Message Follows From: Kamen Nedev [EMAIL PROTECTED] Reply-To: FLUXLIST@scribble.com To: WRYTING-L : Writing and Theory across Disciplines WRYTING-L@LISTSERV.UTORONTO.CA CC: [EMAIL PROTECTED], FLUXLIST@scribble.com, deletext [EMAIL PROTECTED] Subject: FLUXLIST: woman Date: Fri, 28 Apr 2006 07:56:11 +0200 strange kind of woman honky-tonk woman evil woman a hard woman to love you ache just like a woman you fake just like a woman you make love just like a woman but you break just like a little girl you make me feel like a natural woman oh, she looks so good / oh, she's made out of wood 'cause everybody knows / the things she does to please she's just a little tease / she's the femme fatale she put a spell on you you get your money for nothing, you get your chicks for free she's funny that way a whole lotta woman she's like the wind she's a river when a man loves a woman parachute woman smack my bitch up, change my pitch up girls just want to have fun the men don't know, but the little girls understand lady madonna, children at your feet, wonder how you manage to make ends meet woman is the nigger of the world a girl with kaleidoscope eyes sweet loretta modern thought she was a woman all the girls around her say she's had it coming i want a short haired girl that sometimes wears it twice as long there she goes again she's down on her knees, my friend there she stood in the doorway then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way there she goes, just walking down the street sweet leaf let me stand next to your fire some people say little girls should be seen but not heard girls, girls, girls, Liberian girl she's my girl you're fifteen, you're beautiful, and you're mine i love-a-love my little calendar girl the KKK took my baby away baby, i love you she's a nightmare hippy girl she has tofu the size of Texas she plays footsie with another dimension she'll do anything to make you feel like an asshole she'll come back as fire and kill all the liars, leave a blanket of ash on the ground summer babe (winter version) he lied to her, he lied to her (with a perfectly straight face) her, she can go quietly, by a disease or a blow you dont't have to be rich to be my girl sex bomb sex bobm, you're my sex bomb no woman no cry sheila is a punk rocker judy is a punk blood sugar baby, she's magic, sex magic, sex magic so star me kitten she's a star-star if i have a reason to believe, then she has a reason to forgive the girl can't help it Kamen Nedev c/Pelayo Nº38, 5º Izda. 28004 Madrid España (+34) 649 77 80 37 [EMAIL PROTECTED] http://emitmedia.blogspot.com http://emit-es.blogspot.com http://emit.omweb.com
Re: FLUXLIST: woman
Excuse the misspellings... Haven't actually looked again at these files for ages. K. On 28/04/2006, at 8:06, bibiana padilla maltos wrote: uh this was good! Original Message Follows From: Kamen Nedev [EMAIL PROTECTED] Reply-To: FLUXLIST@scribble.com To: WRYTING-L : Writing and Theory across Disciplines WRYTING- [EMAIL PROTECTED] CC: [EMAIL PROTECTED], FLUXLIST@scribble.com, deletext [EMAIL PROTECTED] Subject: FLUXLIST: woman Date: Fri, 28 Apr 2006 07:56:11 +0200 strange kind of woman honky-tonk woman evil woman a hard woman to love you ache just like a woman you fake just like a woman you make love just like a woman but you break just like a little girl you make me feel like a natural woman oh, she looks so good / oh, she's made out of wood 'cause everybody knows / the things she does to please she's just a little tease / she's the femme fatale she put a spell on you you get your money for nothing, you get your chicks for free she's funny that way a whole lotta woman she's like the wind she's a river when a man loves a woman parachute woman smack my bitch up, change my pitch up girls just want to have fun the men don't know, but the little girls understand lady madonna, children at your feet, wonder how you manage to make ends meet woman is the nigger of the world a girl with kaleidoscope eyes sweet loretta modern thought she was a woman all the girls around her say she's had it coming i want a short haired girl that sometimes wears it twice as long there she goes again she's down on her knees, my friend there she stood in the doorway then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way there she goes, just walking down the street sweet leaf let me stand next to your fire some people say little girls should be seen but not heard girls, girls, girls, Liberian girl she's my girl you're fifteen, you're beautiful, and you're mine i love-a-love my little calendar girl the KKK took my baby away baby, i love you she's a nightmare hippy girl she has tofu the size of Texas she plays footsie with another dimension she'll do anything to make you feel like an asshole she'll come back as fire and kill all the liars, leave a blanket of ash on the ground summer babe (winter version) he lied to her, he lied to her (with a perfectly straight face) her, she can go quietly, by a disease or a blow you dont't have to be rich to be my girl sex bomb sex bobm, you're my sex bomb no woman no cry sheila is a punk rocker judy is a punk blood sugar baby, she's magic, sex magic, sex magic so star me kitten she's a star-star if i have a reason to believe, then she has a reason to forgive the girl can't help it Kamen Nedev c/Pelayo Nº38, 5º Izda. 28004 Madrid España (+34) 649 77 80 37 [EMAIL PROTECTED] http://emitmedia.blogspot.com http://emit-es.blogspot.com http://emit.omweb.com
RE: FLUXLIST: woman
Kamen, I really like these sampled song poems that you are writing. Allan -Original Message- From: [EMAIL PROTECTED] [mailto:[EMAIL PROTECTED] On Behalf Of Kamen Nedev Sent: Friday, April 28, 2006 1:56 AM To: WRYTING-L : Writing and Theory across Disciplines Cc: [EMAIL PROTECTED]; FLUXLIST@scribble.com; deletext Subject: FLUXLIST: woman strange kind of woman honky-tonk woman evil woman a hard woman to love you ache just like a woman you fake just like a woman you make love just like a woman but you break just like a little girl you make me feel like a natural woman oh, she looks so good / oh, she's made out of wood 'cause everybody knows / the things she does to please she's just a little tease / she's the femme fatale she put a spell on you you get your money for nothing, you get your chicks for free she's funny that way a whole lotta woman she's like the wind she's a river when a man loves a woman parachute woman smack my bitch up, change my pitch up girls just want to have fun the men don't know, but the little girls understand lady madonna, children at your feet, wonder how you manage to make ends meet woman is the nigger of the world a girl with kaleidoscope eyes sweet loretta modern thought she was a woman all the girls around her say she's had it coming i want a short haired girl that sometimes wears it twice as long there she goes again she's down on her knees, my friend there she stood in the doorway then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way there she goes, just walking down the street sweet leaf let me stand next to your fire some people say little girls should be seen but not heard girls, girls, girls, Liberian girl she's my girl you're fifteen, you're beautiful, and you're mine i love-a-love my little calendar girl the KKK took my baby away baby, i love you she's a nightmare hippy girl she has tofu the size of Texas she plays footsie with another dimension she'll do anything to make you feel like an asshole she'll come back as fire and kill all the liars, leave a blanket of ash on the ground summer babe (winter version) he lied to her, he lied to her (with a perfectly straight face) her, she can go quietly, by a disease or a blow you dont't have to be rich to be my girl sex bomb sex bobm, you're my sex bomb no woman no cry sheila is a punk rocker judy is a punk blood sugar baby, she's magic, sex magic, sex magic so star me kitten she's a star-star if i have a reason to believe, then she has a reason to forgive the girl can't help it Kamen Nedev c/Pelayo Nº38, 5º Izda. 28004 Madrid España (+34) 649 77 80 37 [EMAIL PROTECTED] http://emitmedia.blogspot.com http://emit-es.blogspot.com http://emit.omweb.com
Re: FLUXLIST: woman
On 28/04/2006, at 15:51, Allan Revich wrote: Kamen, I really like these sampled song poems that you are writing. Allan Well, I'm not exactly writing them, Allan. It's a series I started on back in 2003-4, somewhat based on a project I took part in by the Circo Interior Bruto a year and a half earlier. I'm curating an exhibition on rock culture right now, so I somehow bumped into this dusty folder on my hard drive. I mean, the thing is basically unfinished, and I don't think I'll be adding anything to it. So I just thought I'd post it to the list as-is. Maybe I'll find a way to work through it and take it to a conclusion. Or something. Best, Kamen -Original Message- From: [EMAIL PROTECTED] [mailto:owner- [EMAIL PROTECTED] On Behalf Of Kamen Nedev Sent: Friday, April 28, 2006 1:56 AM To: WRYTING-L : Writing and Theory across Disciplines Cc: [EMAIL PROTECTED]; FLUXLIST@scribble.com; deletext Subject: FLUXLIST: woman strange kind of woman honky-tonk woman evil woman a hard woman to love you ache just like a woman you fake just like a woman you make love just like a woman but you break just like a little girl you make me feel like a natural woman oh, she looks so good / oh, she's made out of wood 'cause everybody knows / the things she does to please she's just a little tease / she's the femme fatale she put a spell on you you get your money for nothing, you get your chicks for free she's funny that way a whole lotta woman she's like the wind she's a river when a man loves a woman parachute woman smack my bitch up, change my pitch up girls just want to have fun the men don't know, but the little girls understand lady madonna, children at your feet, wonder how you manage to make ends meet woman is the nigger of the world a girl with kaleidoscope eyes sweet loretta modern thought she was a woman all the girls around her say she's had it coming i want a short haired girl that sometimes wears it twice as long there she goes again she's down on her knees, my friend there she stood in the doorway then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way there she goes, just walking down the street sweet leaf let me stand next to your fire some people say little girls should be seen but not heard girls, girls, girls, Liberian girl she's my girl you're fifteen, you're beautiful, and you're mine i love-a-love my little calendar girl the KKK took my baby away baby, i love you she's a nightmare hippy girl she has tofu the size of Texas she plays footsie with another dimension she'll do anything to make you feel like an asshole she'll come back as fire and kill all the liars, leave a blanket of ash on the ground summer babe (winter version) he lied to her, he lied to her (with a perfectly straight face) her, she can go quietly, by a disease or a blow you dont't have to be rich to be my girl sex bomb sex bobm, you're my sex bomb no woman no cry sheila is a punk rocker judy is a punk blood sugar baby, she's magic, sex magic, sex magic so star me kitten she's a star-star if i have a reason to believe, then she has a reason to forgive the girl can't help it Kamen Nedev c/Pelayo Nº38, 5º Izda. 28004 Madrid España (+34) 649 77 80 37 [EMAIL PROTECTED] http://emitmedia.blogspot.com http://emit-es.blogspot.com http://emit.omweb.com Kamen Nedev c/Pelayo Nº38, 5º Izda. 28004 Madrid España (+34) 649 77 80 37 [EMAIL PROTECTED] http://emitmedia.blogspot.com http://emit-es.blogspot.com http://emit.omweb.com
RE: FLUXLIST: woman
Can I still like it? ;-) -Original Message- From: [EMAIL PROTECTED] [mailto:[EMAIL PROTECTED] On Behalf Of Kamen Nedev Sent: Friday, April 28, 2006 11:24 AM To: FLUXLIST@scribble.com Subject: Re: FLUXLIST: woman On 28/04/2006, at 15:51, Allan Revich wrote: Kamen, I really like these sampled song poems that you are writing. Allan Well, I'm not exactly writing them, Allan. It's a series I started on back in 2003-4, somewhat based on a project I took part in by the Circo Interior Bruto a year and a half earlier. I'm curating an exhibition on rock culture right now, so I somehow bumped into this dusty folder on my hard drive. I mean, the thing is basically unfinished, and I don't think I'll be adding anything to it. So I just thought I'd post it to the list as-is. Maybe I'll find a way to work through it and take it to a conclusion. Or something. Best, Kamen -Original Message- From: [EMAIL PROTECTED] [mailto:owner- [EMAIL PROTECTED] On Behalf Of Kamen Nedev Sent: Friday, April 28, 2006 1:56 AM To: WRYTING-L : Writing and Theory across Disciplines Cc: [EMAIL PROTECTED]; FLUXLIST@scribble.com; deletext Subject: FLUXLIST: woman strange kind of woman honky-tonk woman evil woman a hard woman to love you ache just like a woman you fake just like a woman you make love just like a woman but you break just like a little girl you make me feel like a natural woman oh, she looks so good / oh, she's made out of wood 'cause everybody knows / the things she does to please she's just a little tease / she's the femme fatale she put a spell on you you get your money for nothing, you get your chicks for free she's funny that way a whole lotta woman she's like the wind she's a river when a man loves a woman parachute woman smack my bitch up, change my pitch up girls just want to have fun the men don't know, but the little girls understand lady madonna, children at your feet, wonder how you manage to make ends meet woman is the nigger of the world a girl with kaleidoscope eyes sweet loretta modern thought she was a woman all the girls around her say she's had it coming i want a short haired girl that sometimes wears it twice as long there she goes again she's down on her knees, my friend there she stood in the doorway then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way there she goes, just walking down the street sweet leaf let me stand next to your fire some people say little girls should be seen but not heard girls, girls, girls, Liberian girl she's my girl you're fifteen, you're beautiful, and you're mine i love-a-love my little calendar girl the KKK took my baby away baby, i love you she's a nightmare hippy girl she has tofu the size of Texas she plays footsie with another dimension she'll do anything to make you feel like an asshole she'll come back as fire and kill all the liars, leave a blanket of ash on the ground summer babe (winter version) he lied to her, he lied to her (with a perfectly straight face) her, she can go quietly, by a disease or a blow you dont't have to be rich to be my girl sex bomb sex bobm, you're my sex bomb no woman no cry sheila is a punk rocker judy is a punk blood sugar baby, she's magic, sex magic, sex magic so star me kitten she's a star-star if i have a reason to believe, then she has a reason to forgive the girl can't help it Kamen Nedev c/Pelayo Nº38, 5º Izda. 28004 Madrid España (+34) 649 77 80 37 [EMAIL PROTECTED] http://emitmedia.blogspot.com http://emit-es.blogspot.com http://emit.omweb.com Kamen Nedev c/Pelayo Nº38, 5º Izda. 28004 Madrid España (+34) 649 77 80 37 [EMAIL PROTECTED] http://emitmedia.blogspot.com http://emit-es.blogspot.com http://emit.omweb.com
Re: FLUXLIST: woman
Well, obviously, Allan ;-)) + There's more to come. Best, Kamen On 28/04/2006, at 22:17, Allan Revich wrote: Can I still like it? ;-) -Original Message- From: [EMAIL PROTECTED] [mailto:owner- [EMAIL PROTECTED] On Behalf Of Kamen Nedev Sent: Friday, April 28, 2006 11:24 AM To: FLUXLIST@scribble.com Subject: Re: FLUXLIST: woman On 28/04/2006, at 15:51, Allan Revich wrote: Kamen, I really like these sampled song poems that you are writing. Allan Well, I'm not exactly writing them, Allan. It's a series I started on back in 2003-4, somewhat based on a project I took part in by the Circo Interior Bruto a year and a half earlier. I'm curating an exhibition on rock culture right now, so I somehow bumped into this dusty folder on my hard drive. I mean, the thing is basically unfinished, and I don't think I'll be adding anything to it. So I just thought I'd post it to the list as-is. Maybe I'll find a way to work through it and take it to a conclusion. Or something. Best, Kamen -Original Message- From: [EMAIL PROTECTED] [mailto:owner- [EMAIL PROTECTED] On Behalf Of Kamen Nedev Sent: Friday, April 28, 2006 1:56 AM To: WRYTING-L : Writing and Theory across Disciplines Cc: [EMAIL PROTECTED]; FLUXLIST@scribble.com; deletext Subject: FLUXLIST: woman strange kind of woman honky-tonk woman evil woman a hard woman to love you ache just like a woman you fake just like a woman you make love just like a woman but you break just like a little girl you make me feel like a natural woman oh, she looks so good / oh, she's made out of wood 'cause everybody knows / the things she does to please she's just a little tease / she's the femme fatale she put a spell on you you get your money for nothing, you get your chicks for free she's funny that way a whole lotta woman she's like the wind she's a river when a man loves a woman parachute woman smack my bitch up, change my pitch up girls just want to have fun the men don't know, but the little girls understand lady madonna, children at your feet, wonder how you manage to make ends meet woman is the nigger of the world a girl with kaleidoscope eyes sweet loretta modern thought she was a woman all the girls around her say she's had it coming i want a short haired girl that sometimes wears it twice as long there she goes again she's down on her knees, my friend there she stood in the doorway then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way there she goes, just walking down the street sweet leaf let me stand next to your fire some people say little girls should be seen but not heard girls, girls, girls, Liberian girl she's my girl you're fifteen, you're beautiful, and you're mine i love-a-love my little calendar girl the KKK took my baby away baby, i love you she's a nightmare hippy girl she has tofu the size of Texas she plays footsie with another dimension she'll do anything to make you feel like an asshole she'll come back as fire and kill all the liars, leave a blanket of ash on the ground summer babe (winter version) he lied to her, he lied to her (with a perfectly straight face) her, she can go quietly, by a disease or a blow you dont't have to be rich to be my girl sex bomb sex bobm, you're my sex bomb no woman no cry sheila is a punk rocker judy is a punk blood sugar baby, she's magic, sex magic, sex magic so star me kitten she's a star-star if i have a reason to believe, then she has a reason to forgive the girl can't help it Kamen Nedev c/Pelayo Nº38, 5º Izda. 28004 Madrid España (+34) 649 77 80 37 [EMAIL PROTECTED] http://emitmedia.blogspot.com http://emit-es.blogspot.com http://emit.omweb.com Kamen Nedev c/Pelayo Nº38, 5º Izda. 28004 Madrid España (+34) 649 77 80 37 [EMAIL PROTECTED] http://emitmedia.blogspot.com http://emit-es.blogspot.com http://emit.omweb.com Kamen Nedev c/Pelayo Nº38, 5º Izda. 28004 Madrid España (+34) 649 77 80 37 [EMAIL PROTECTED] http://emitmedia.blogspot.com http://emit-es.blogspot.com http://emit.omweb.com
Re: FLUXLIST: Woman Smashes Dog - Call Flour Sentries!
Not this old chestnut again! Michael --- suse [EMAIL PROTECTED] wrote: - Original Message - From: Allan Revich [EMAIL PROTECTED] To: FLUXLIST@scribble.com Sent: Monday, May 31, 2004 9:26 AM Subject: Re: FLUXLIST: Woman Smashes Dog - Call Flour Sentries! (Please add to the story wherever you see fit, add your name at the front and post it.) Man Bites Dog 42-page book made of fur, teeth, skin and bones Kathy Forer, Roger Stevens, Michael Leigh, Alan fffo, badgergirl, Carol Starr, Suse The Story So Far Fourteen wolverines and one lap dog chase a badger. But the badger is too fast and burrows beneath a paintbrush stuck in a stone. In the burrow are mushrooms and grain. The badger makes a broth ambrosia of the green grain and mushrooms and is soon asleep. The badger is dreaming that it was just a dream, there are no wolverines or lap dog because the badger was really awakened by the artist removing the paintbrush from the stone to begin painting for the morning. Little does the artist realize that the badger is in the burrow. Once the badger (a strange name for a badger some would say) is reassured as to its safety and breakfast is under way in the burrow; ambrosia of green grain and mushrooms with the added delight of mini marshmallows! The day is going well, but what was that strange sound? Thunder and a police siren mix with snoring. The badger jumps from his spot thinking the stone has imploded. When he hears the rain on the stone above, he realizes the electricity is still working, washes his face and soon falls back deep asleep. Hours later, Once, the badger, is awakened by the noise of wood against stone. It is night and the lap dog is yapping. The wolverines have surrounded the stone and are chanting an incantation. The badger doesn't breathe, not a whisker moves. Neither up nor down, although suspense is acrostic. After a paws of several minutes the badger quickly whips out his cross-stitched magic asbestos underpants and pulls them on ferociously. Once flings open the serving hatch and grabs the vial of sacred weasel water and makes a dot for the burrow entrance and confronts the seething mass of writhing wolverines squirming around the stone which is now glowing with a strange phosphorescent throb! 1 It was a dense night. Stumble patterns and brave yapping set apart the party of owl elves and gnome mimics as they writhe and chase and spurn the undergrowth around the latest beige badger silting. In the brave distance behoves the strange and incandescent foreshadows of wolverines and greenish melon lights upon the substantial forest fare. Young Zonograph, the tallest owl elf snuffed his warps harp and muttered - I can hear a badger. The badger is in trouble. I scents wolverines. Hurry there is no stone unready ton roll upturned in this lackadaisical pre-momentary of the word fandango. Meanwhile, or to be more precisereiouseless, high on hill stood a lonely man with a goathead, his fixedinterestrate stare directeddyboyhoodlesservilely at the burning black belching smokestacks of the town beyong the wolverine woods. The sound of a suddenly snuffeforadicalcified warps harp, brought memories back for Ludwig Hat, erstwhile butler and badger baiterribleedinglendervish of Vincent and Cara Van Hire. Ludwig stood immobile, imshelle and intexacoe, for Ludwig had been brained by falling groceries, dropped from almost a mile overhead and one mile and eight inches over shoulder, a result of the splitting of a cheap carrier pigeon on it's way home. Forcing his gaze downward Ludwig was horrified, not only had his part of the story not managed to settle on a definite form, not only did it lack content but now to his disgust he found that he had been rendereducededicateddyboyfriended by a tangerine!!! He couldn't even get that right. Ludwig crossed his eyes and dotted his teeth, relaxed and floated up, through the roof of his own mouth. Long and complicated wordadditions, he thought, canwearyoudownifyournot careful, and so he resolved to be more carefulinfuture. Win Cent the Magnificent and Cara, however, were seriously considering calling Sister Meg and entering into the fray. Sister Meg O'Lomania was after all acrostic champion frigidaire and good at getting badgers up and down and out of trees (and wolverines out of toasters for that matter.) Lap dogs she had no time for as their batteries always seemed to run out in the middle of a sent bottle of enormous palcritude. His eyes dilated and shuffled in the moonlight, his breathe came in short pants, his coughs in a skirt and his trousers rolled up like Venetian blinds caught in a mighty wurlitzer. Mrs. Shufflefang caught sight of herself in a nearby polished knob of a Milkman's portable pelmet crusher and she
Re: FLUXLIST: Woman Smashes Dog - Call Flour Sentries!
Not this old chestnut again! Michael --- suse [EMAIL PROTECTED] wrote: - Original Message - From: Allan Revich [EMAIL PROTECTED] To: FLUXLIST@scribble.com Sent: Monday, May 31, 2004 9:26 AM Subject: Re: FLUXLIST: Woman Smashes Dog - Call Flour Sentries! (Please add to the story wherever you see fit, add your name at the front and post it.) Man Bites Dog 42-page book made of fur, teeth, skin and bones Kathy Forer, Roger Stevens, Michael Leigh, Alan fffo, badgergirl, Carol Starr, Suse The Story So Far Fourteen wolverines and one lap dog chase a badger. But the badger is too fast and burrows beneath a paintbrush stuck in a stone. In the burrow are mushrooms and grain. The badger makes a broth ambrosia of the green grain and mushrooms and is soon asleep. The badger is dreaming that it was just a dream, there are no wolverines or lap dog because the badger was really awakened by the artist removing the paintbrush from the stone to begin painting for the morning. Little does the artist realize that the badger is in the burrow. Once the badger (a strange name for a badger some would say) is reassured as to its safety and breakfast is under way in the burrow; ambrosia of green grain and mushrooms with the added delight of mini marshmallows! The day is going well, but what was that strange sound? Thunder and a police siren mix with snoring. The badger jumps from his spot thinking the stone has imploded. When he hears the rain on the stone above, he realizes the electricity is still working, washes his face and soon falls back deep asleep. Hours later, Once, the badger, is awakened by the noise of wood against stone. It is night and the lap dog is yapping. The wolverines have surrounded the stone and are chanting an incantation. The badger doesn't breathe, not a whisker moves. Neither up nor down, although suspense is acrostic. After a paws of several minutes the badger quickly whips out his cross-stitched magic asbestos underpants and pulls them on ferociously. Once flings open the serving hatch and grabs the vial of sacred weasel water and makes a dot for the burrow entrance and confronts the seething mass of writhing wolverines squirming around the stone which is now glowing with a strange phosphorescent throb! 1 It was a dense night. Stumble patterns and brave yapping set apart the party of owl elves and gnome mimics as they writhe and chase and spurn the undergrowth around the latest beige badger silting. In the brave distance behoves the strange and incandescent foreshadows of wolverines and greenish melon lights upon the substantial forest fare. Young Zonograph, the tallest owl elf snuffed his warps harp and muttered - I can hear a badger. The badger is in trouble. I scents wolverines. Hurry there is no stone unready ton roll upturned in this lackadaisical pre-momentary of the word fandango. Meanwhile, or to be more precisereiouseless, high on hill stood a lonely man with a goathead, his fixedinterestrate stare directeddyboyhoodlesservilely at the burning black belching smokestacks of the town beyong the wolverine woods. The sound of a suddenly snuffeforadicalcified warps harp, brought memories back for Ludwig Hat, erstwhile butler and badger baiterribleedinglendervish of Vincent and Cara Van Hire. Ludwig stood immobile, imshelle and intexacoe, for Ludwig had been brained by falling groceries, dropped from almost a mile overhead and one mile and eight inches over shoulder, a result of the splitting of a cheap carrier pigeon on it's way home. Forcing his gaze downward Ludwig was horrified, not only had his part of the story not managed to settle on a definite form, not only did it lack content but now to his disgust he found that he had been rendereducededicateddyboyfriended by a tangerine!!! He couldn't even get that right. Ludwig crossed his eyes and dotted his teeth, relaxed and floated up, through the roof of his own mouth. Long and complicated wordadditions, he thought, canwearyoudownifyournot careful, and so he resolved to be more carefulinfuture. Win Cent the Magnificent and Cara, however, were seriously considering calling Sister Meg and entering into the fray. Sister Meg O'Lomania was after all acrostic champion frigidaire and good at getting badgers up and down and out of trees (and wolverines out of toasters for that matter.) Lap dogs she had no time for as their batteries always seemed to run out in the middle of a sent bottle of enormous palcritude. His eyes dilated and shuffled in the moonlight, his breathe came in short pants, his coughs in a skirt and his trousers rolled up like Venetian blinds caught in a mighty wurlitzer. Mrs. Shufflefang caught sight of herself in a nearby polished knob of a Milkman's portable pelmet crusher and she
RE: FLUXLIST: Woman Smashes Dog - Call Flour Sentries!
Had a thought about this story... We could continue it off-list (in case anyone's getting fed up with it by now) Someone requests a turn - it goes to them - then to the next person and so on. When it's finished we can make it into a nice 42 page book and send anyone who wants one a copy. Whaddya think? Kathy? It's your baby... I'd be happy to put it all together? Hugs Roger Visit The Poetry Zone http://www.poetryzone.co.uk -Original Message- From: [EMAIL PROTECTED] [mailto:[EMAIL PROTECTED] On Behalf Of michael leigh Sent: 01 June 2004 07:36 To: [EMAIL PROTECTED] Subject: Re: FLUXLIST: Woman Smashes Dog - Call Flour Sentries! --- michael leigh [EMAIL PROTECTED] wrote: --- Allan Revich [EMAIL PROTECTED] wrote: (Please add to the story wherever you see fit, add your name at the front and post it.) Man Bites Dog 42-page book made of fur, teeth, skin and bones Kathy Forer, Roger Stevens, Michael Leigh, Alan fffo, badgergirl, Carol Starr, Suse,Allan R. The Story So Far Fourteen wolverines and one lap dog chase a badger. But the badger is too fast and burrows beneath a paintbrush stuck in a stone. In the burrow are mushrooms and grain. The badger makes a broth ambrosia of the green grain and mushrooms and is soon asleep. The badger is dreaming that it was just a dream, there are no wolverines or lap dog because the badger was really awakened by the artist removing the paintbrush from the stone to begin painting for the morning. Little does the artist realize that the badger is in the burrow. Once the badger (a strange name for a badger some would say) is reassured as to its safety and breakfast is under way in the burrow; ambrosia of green grain and mushrooms with the added delight of mini marshmallows! The day is going well, but what was that strange sound? Thunder and a police siren mix with snoring. The badger jumps from his spot thinking the stone has imploded. When he hears the rain on the stone above, he realizes the electricity is still working, washes his face and soon falls back deep asleep. Hours later, Once, the badger, is awakened by the noise of wood against stone. It is night and the lap dog is yapping. The wolverines have surrounded the stone and are chanting an incantation. The badger doesn't breathe, not a whisker moves. Neither up nor down, although suspense is acrostic. After a paws of several minutes the badger quickly whips out his cross-stitched magic asbestos underpants and pulls them on ferociously. Once flings open the serving hatch and grabs the vial of sacred weasel water and makes a dot for the burrow entrance and confronts the seething mass of writhing wolverines squirming around the stone which is now glowing with a strange phosphorescent throb! 1 It was a dense night. Stumble patterns and brave yapping set apart the party of owl elves and gnome mimics as they writhe and chase and spurn the undergrowth around the latest beige badger silting. In the brave distance behoves the strange and incandescent foreshadows of wolverines and greenish melon lights upon the substantial forest fare. Young Zonograph, the tallest owl elf snuffed his warps harp and muttered - I can hear a badger. The badger is in trouble. I scents wolverines. Hurry there is no stone unready ton roll upturned in this lackadaisical pre-momentary of the word fandango. Meanwhile, or to be more precisereiouseless, high on hill stood a lonely man with a goathead, his fixedinterestrate stare directeddyboyhoodlesservilely at the burning black belching smokestacks of the town beyong the wolverine woods. The sound of a suddenly snuffeforadicalcified warps harp, brought memories back for Ludwig Hat, erstwhile butler and badger baiterribleedinglendervish of Vincent and Cara Van Hire. Ludwig stood immobile, imshelle and intexacoe, for Ludwig had been brained by falling groceries, dropped from almost a mile overhead and one mile and eight inches over shoulder, a result of the splitting of a cheap carrier pigeon on it's way home. Forcing his gaze downward Ludwig was horrified, not only had his part of the story not managed to settle on a definite form, not only did it lack content but now to his disgust he found that he had been rendereducededicateddyboyfriended by a tangerine!!! He couldn't even get that right. Ludwig crossed his eyes and dotted his teeth, relaxed and floated up, through the roof of his own mouth. Long and complicated wordadditions, he thought, canwearyoudownifyournot careful, and so he resolved to be more carefulinfuture. Win Cent the Magnificent and Cara, however, were seriously considering calling Sister Meg and entering into the fray. Sister Meg O'Lomania was after all acrostic champion frigidaire
Re: FLUXLIST: Woman Smashes Dog - Call Flour Sentries!
(Please add to the story wherever you see fit, add your name at the front and post it.) Man Bites Dog 42-page book made of fur, teeth, skin and bones Kathy Forer, Roger Stevens, Michael Leigh, Alan fffo, badgergirl, Carol Starr, Suse, Allan R. The Story So Far Fourteen wolverines and one lap dog chase a badger. But the badger is too fast and burrows beneath a paintbrush stuck in a stone. In the burrow are mushrooms and grain. The badger makes a broth ambrosia of the green grain and mushrooms and is soon asleep. The badger is dreaming... In the dream there are no wolverines or lap dog because the badger was really awakened by the artist removing the paintbrush from the stone to begin painting for the morning. Little does the artist realize that the badger is in the burrow. Once the badger (a strange name for a badger some would say) is reassured as to its safety and breakfast is under way in the burrow; ambrosia of green grain and mushrooms with the added delight of mini marshmallows! The day is going well, but what was that strange sound? Thunder and a police siren suddenly mix with satisfied snoring. The badger jumps from his spot thinking his borough has imploded. When he hears the rain on the stone above, he realizes electricity is still working, washes his face and soon falls back deep asleep. He dreams of a sitting on a five bar gate in Shinaniki Da. It's 1932 and Tom Thumb, the Topsy Turvy talking automaton has just opened the Cough Drop Shop in the village which badger can see from where he sits. The baked Potato man wanders by trying to see his wares. Piping hot King Edwards! he shouts as he wafts the steam from his portable oven perched precariously on one-legged wheel-barrow. Juicy Jerseys covered in ketchup! Badger asks the baked Potato Man if he has any crispy potato peelings in batter. No, but I have these fine Cheshire New potatoes in gravy he smiles, proffering the steamy morsel which suddenly grows two eyes and leering mouth and cackles most horribly! Hours later, Once, the badger, is awakened by the noise of wood against stone. It is night and the lap dog is yapping. The wolverines have surrounded the stone and are chanting an incantation. The badger doesn't breathe, not a whisker moves. Neither up nor down, although suspense is acrostic. After a paws of several minutes the badger quickly whips out his cross-stitched magic asbestos underpants and pulls them on ferociously. Once flings open the serving hatch and grabs the vial of sacred weasel water and makes a dot for the burrow entrance and confronts the seething mass of writhing wolverines squirming around the stone which is now glowing with a strange phosphorescent throb! 1 It was a dense night. Stumble patterns and brave yapping set apart the party of owl elves and gnome mimics as they writhe and chase and spurn the undergrowth around the latest beige badger silting. In the brave distance behoves the strange and incandescent foreshadows of wolverines and greenish melon lights upon the substantial forest fare. Young Zonograph, the tallest owl elf snuffed his warps harp and muttered -- I can hear a badger. The badger is in trouble. I scents wolverines. Hurry there is no stone unready ton roll upturned in this lackadaisical pre-momentary of the word fandango. Meanwhile, or to be more precisereiouseless, high on hill stood a lonely man with a goathead, his fixedinterestrate stare directeddyboyhoodlesservilely at the burning black belching smokestacks of the town beyong the wolverine woods. The sound of a suddenly snuffeforadicalcified warps harp, brought memories back for Ludwig Hat, erstwhile butler and badger baiterribleedinglendervish of Vincent and Cara Van Hire. Ludwig stood immobile, imshelle and intexacoe, for Ludwig had been brained by falling groceries, dropped from almost a mile overhead and one mile and eight inches over shoulder, a result of the splitting of a cheap carrier pigeon on it's way home. Forcing his gaze downward Ludwig was horrified, not only had his part of the story not managed to settle on a definite form, not only did it lack content but now to his disgust he found that he had been rendereducededicateddyboyfriended by a tangerine!!! He couldn't even get that right. Ludwig crossed his eyes and dotted his teeth, relaxed and floated up, through the roof of his own mouth. Long and complicated wordadditions, he thought, canwearyoudownifyournot careful, and so he resolved to be more carefulinfuture. Win Cent the Magnificent and Cara, however, were seriously considering calling Sister Meg and entering into the fray. Sister Meg O'Lomania was after all acrostic champion frigidaire and good at getting badgers up and down and out of trees (and wolverines out of toasters for that matter.) Lap dogs she had no time for as their batteries always seemed to run out in the middle of a sent bottle of enormous palcritude. His eyes dilated and shuffled in
Re: FLUXLIST: Woman Smashes Dog - Call Flour Sentries!
I seem to have come to an impass in the story as it says message truncated at trhe bottom and I cant find the bit I want to add too? How does one get around this? Michael Yahoo! Messenger - Communicate instantly...Ping your friends today! Download Messenger Now http://uk.messenger.yahoo.com/download/index.html
Re: FLUXLIST: Woman Vanishes in Smog
--- [EMAIL PROTECTED] wrote: just how is this sausage thing working? i keep getting differing voles some with my additions, others without. what's in and/or out? in one my entry had been cha-cha'd, quite possibly for the better, but i do think that that should happen. it's nice knowing who's concertina'd but not what they've collywobbled, it sort of provides a 'poddle' element too, trying to work out who did what, based solely on imp lessons given via email - good fun, but it doesn't work if we change each others warthogs? this is of course God speaking, or rather typing, from a 'non-writer' volleyball.. ahem, sorry.whistles goatishly, goes back to work dungbeetedly, meets himself in the collinder and becomes very worried. (badger worrying! geddit? - oh suit yourselves missus!) x Yahoo! Messenger - Communicate instantly...Ping your friends today! Download Messenger Now http://uk.messenger.yahoo.com/download/index.html
RE: FLUXLIST: Woman Vanishes in Smog
Hi Here's my take on the story so far I think the story should just progress in a completely free, random, hit and miss peculiar and surprising way. I think it should keep going until it runs out of steam and stops - or until someone pulls the plug. I think anyone should do anything to any part of the story - which includes altering it and changing it, and altering and changing things other people have written. (Although I don't think anyone should subtract anything - in case someone decides to erase great chunks.) Feel free to change anything I've written. It's not something I'm precious about. I wasn't planning to enter my contributions for the Pulitzer prize for badgers. As the different versions turn up I'm sure someone (maybe me) will add them all together. Let it be like a giant snowball that rolls down the snow fields of art, scattering wolverines and badgers, and let's just see where it turns up or if it demolishes any little wooden huts. So - that's what I think. Crumpets anyone? Big Al writes: just how is this story thing working? i keep getting differing versions some with my additions, others without. who is editing it? who chooses what's in and/or out? in one my entry had been changed, quite possibly for the better, but i don't think that that should happen. it's nice knowing who's contributed but not what they've contributed, it sort of provides a 'puzzle' element too, trying to work out who did what, based solely on impressions given via email - good fun, but it doesn't work if we change each others work. this is of course me speaking, or rather typing, from a 'non-writer' viewpoint.. ahem, sorry.whistles sheepishly, goes back to work doggedly, meets himself in the corridor and becomes very worried. (sheep worrying! geddit? - oh suit yourselves!) x
RE: FLUXLIST: Woman Smashes Dog - Call Flour Sentries!
That sounds like a technical thing - best ask a technical person You could begin chapter six on a new page... XXX Roger Michael writes - I seem to have come to an impass in the story as it says message truncated at trhe bottom and I cant find the bit I want to add too? How does one get around this? Yahoo! Messenger - Communicate instantly...Ping your friends today! Download Messenger Now http://uk.messenger.yahoo.com/download/index.html
Re: FLUXLIST: Woman Smashes Dog - Call Flour Sentries!
--- Roger Stevens [EMAIL PROTECTED] wrote: (Please add to the story wherever you see fit, add your name at the front and post it.) Man Bites Dog 42-page book made of fur, teeth, skin and bones Kathy Forer, Roger Stevens, Michael Leigh, Alan fffo, badgergirl, Carol Starr, Suse The Story So Far Fourteen wolverines and one lap dog chase a badger. But the badger is too fast and burrows beneath a paintbrush stuck in a stone. In the burrow are mushrooms and grain. The badger makes a broth ambrosia of the green grain and mushrooms and is soon asleep. The badger is dreaming that it was just a dream, there are no wolverines or lap dog because the badger was really awakened by the artist removing the paintbrush from the stone to begin painting for the morning. Little does the artist realize that the badger is in the burrow. Once the badger (a strange name for a badger some would say) is reassured as to its safety and breakfast is under way in the burrow; ambrosia of green grain and mushrooms with the added delight of mini marshmallows! The day is going well, but what was that strange sound? Thunder and a police siren mix with snoring. The badger jumps from his spot thinking the stone has imploded. When he hears the rain on the stone above, he realizes the electricity is still working, washes his face and soon falls back deep asleep. He dreams of a sitting on a five bar gate in Shinaniki Da. It's 1932 and Tom Thumb ,the Topsy Turvy talking automaton has just opened the Cough Drop Shop in the village which badger can see from where he sits. The baked Potato man wanders by trying to see his wares. Piping hot King Edwards! he shouts as he wafts the steam from his portable oven perched precariously on one-legged wheel-barrow. Juicy Jerseys covered in ketchup! Badger asks the baked Potato Man if he has any crispy potato peelings in batter. No, but I have these fine Cheshire New potatoes in gravy he smiles , proffering the steamy morsel which suddenly grows two eyes and leering mouth and cackles most horribly! Hours later, Once, the badger, is awakened by the noise of wood against stone. It is night and the lap dog is yapping. The wolverines have surrounded the stone and are chanting an incantation. The badger doesn't breathe, not a whisker moves. Neither up nor down, although suspense is acrostic. After a paws of several minutes the badger quickly whips out his cross-stitched magic asbestos underpants and pulls them on ferociously. Once flings open the serving hatch and grabs the vial of sacred weasel water and makes a dot for the burrow entrance and confronts the seething mass of writhing wolverines squirming around the stone which is now glowing with a strange phosphorescent throb! 1 It was a dense night. Stumble patterns and brave yapping set apart the party of owl elves and gnome mimics as they writhe and chase and spurn the undergrowth around the latest beige badger silting. In the brave distance behoves the strange and incandescent foreshadows of wolverines and greenish melon lights upon the substantial forest fare. Young Zonograph, the tallest owl elf snuffed his warps harp and muttered - I can hear a badger. The badger is in trouble. I scents wolverines. Hurry there is no stone unready ton roll upturned in this lackadaisical pre-momentary of the word fandango. Meanwhile, or to be more precisereiouseless, high on hill stood a lonely man with a goathead, his fixedinterestrate stare directeddyboyhoodlesservilely at the burning black belching smokestacks of the town beyond the wolverine woods. The sound of a suddenly snuffeforadicalcified warps harp, brought memories back for Ludwig Hat, erstwhile butler and badger baiterribleedinglendervish of Vincent and Cara Van Hire. Ludwig stood immobile, impeller and intoxicate, for Ludwig had been brained by falling groceries, dropped from almost a mile overhead and one mile and eight inches over shoulder, a result of the splitting of a cheap carrier pigeon on it's way home. Forcing his gaze downward Ludwig was horrified, not only had his part of the story not managed to settle on a definite form, not only did it lack content but now to his disgust he found that he had been rendereducededicateddyboyfriended by a tangerine!!! He couldn't even get that right. Ludwig crossed his eyes and dotted his teeth, relaxed and floated up, through the roof of his own mouth. Long and complicated wordadditions, he thought, canwearyoudownifyournot careful, and so he resolved to be more carefulinfuture. Win Cent the Magnificent and Cara, however, were seriously considering calling Sister Meg and entering into the fray. Sister Meg O'Lomania was after all acrostic champion frigidaire and good at getting badgers up and down and out of trees (and wolverines out of toasters for that matter.) Lap dogs she had no time for as their batteries always
Re: FLUXLIST: Woman Smashes Dog - Call Flour Sentries!
(Please add to the story wherever you see fit, add your name at the front and post it.) Man Bites Dog 42-page book made of fur, teeth, skin and bones Kathy Forer, Roger Stevens, Michael Leigh, Alan fffo, badgergirl, Carol Starr, Suse The Story So Far Fourteen wolverines and one lap dog chase a badger. But the badger is too fast and burrows beneath a paintbrush stuck in a stone. In the burrow are mushrooms and grain. The badger makes a broth ambrosia of the green grain and mushrooms and is soon asleep. The badger is dreaming that it was just a dream, there are no wolverines or lap dog because the badger was really awakened by the artist removing the paintbrush from the stone to begin painting for the morning. Little does the artist realize that the badger is in the burrow. Once the badger (a strange name for a badger some would say) is reassured as to its safety and breakfast is under way in the burrow; ambrosia of green grain and mushrooms with the added delight of mini marshmallows! The day is going well, but what was that strange sound? Thunder and a police siren mix with snoring. The badger jumps from his spot thinking the stone has imploded. When he hears the rain on the stone above, he realizes the electricity is still working, washes his face and soon falls back deep asleep. Hours later, Once, the badger, is awakened by the noise of wood against stone. It is night and the lap dog is yapping. The wolverines have surrounded the stone and are chanting an incantation. The badger doesn't breathe, not a whisker moves. Neither up nor down, although suspense is acrostic. After a paws of several minutes the badger quickly whips out his cross-stitched magic asbestos underpants and pulls them on ferociously. Once flings open the serving hatch and grabs the vial of sacred weasel water and makes a dot for the burrow entrance and confronts the seething mass of writhing wolverines squirming around the stone which is now glowing with a strange phosphorescent throb! 1 It was a dense night. Stumble patterns and brave yapping set apart the party of owl elves and gnome mimics as they writhe and chase and spurn the undergrowth around the latest beige badger silting. In the brave distance behoves the strange and incandescent foreshadows of wolverines and greenish melon lights upon the substantial forest fare. Young Zonograph, the tallest owl elf snuffed his warps harp and muttered - I can hear a badger. The badger is in trouble. I scents wolverines. Hurry there is no stone unready ton roll upturned in this lackadaisical pre-momentary of the word fandango. Meanwhile, or to be more precisereiouseless, high on hill stood a lonely man with a goathead, his fixedinterestrate stare directeddyboyhoodlesservilely at the burning black belching smokestacks of the town beyong the wolverine woods. The sound of a suddenly snuffeforadicalcified warps harp, brought memories back for Ludwig Hat, erstwhile butler and badger baiterribleedinglendervish of Vincent and Cara Van Hire. Ludwig stood immobile, imshelle and intexacoe, for Ludwig had been brained by falling groceries, dropped from almost a mile overhead and one mile and eight inches over shoulder, a result of the splitting of a cheap carrier pigeon on it's way home. Forcing his gaze downward Ludwig was horrified, not only had his part of the story not managed to settle on a definite form, not only did it lack content but now to his disgust he found that he had been rendereducededicateddyboyfriended by a tangerine!!! He couldn't even get that right. Ludwig crossed his eyes and dotted his teeth, relaxed and floated up, through the roof of his own mouth. Long and complicated wordadditions, he thought, canwearyoudownifyournot careful, and so he resolved to be more carefulinfuture. Win Cent the Magnificent and Cara, however, were seriously considering calling Sister Meg and entering into the fray. Sister Meg O'Lomania was after all acrostic champion frigidaire and good at getting badgers up and down and out of trees (and wolverines out of toasters for that matter.) Lap dogs she had no time for as their batteries always seemed to run out in the middle of a sent bottle of enormous palcritude. His eyes dilated and shuffled in the moonlight, his breathe came in short pants, his coughs in a skirt and his trousers rolled up like Venetian blinds caught in a mighty wurlitzer. Mrs. Shufflefang caught sight of herself in a nearby polished knob of a Milkman's portable pelmet crusher and she winced inwardly, tossing back a mane of flaxen hair that was tied in a bun and covered in currants. The badgers, for now there were five, all grabbed the reins of the milkman's horse and whipped it into a gallop and then into a small tea shop where it scattered several old ladies and a troupe of dwarves on an outing. Suddenly, Pequot Marmaduck threw a crumpet at Sister Meg. It caught her with a ping in the frigidaire and she fainted straight away, smashing the paw of the lap dog who was
Re: FLUXLIST: Woman Smashes Dog - Call Flour Sentries!
(Please add to the story wherever you see fit, add your name at the front and post it.) Man Bites Dog 42-page book made of fur, teeth, skin and bones Kathy Forer, Roger Stevens, Michael Leigh, Alan fffo, badgergirl, Carol Starr, Suse The Story So Far Fourteen wolverines and one lap dog chase a badger. But the badger is too fast and burrows beneath a paintbrush stuck in a stone. In the burrow are mushrooms and grain. The badger makes a broth ambrosia of the green grain and mushrooms and is soon asleep. The badger is dreaming that it was just a dream, there are no wolverines or lap dog because the badger was really awakened by the artist removing the paintbrush from the stone to begin painting for the morning. Little does the artist realize that the badger is in the burrow. Once the badger (a strange name for a badger some would say) is reassured as to its safety and breakfast is under way in the burrow; ambrosia of green grain and mushrooms with the added delight of mini marshmallows! The day is going well, but what was that strange sound? Thunder and a police siren mix with snoring. The badger jumps from his spot thinking the stone has imploded. When he hears the rain on the stone above, he realizes the electricity is still working, washes his face and soon falls back deep asleep. Hours later, Once, the badger, is awakened by the noise of wood against stone. It is night and the lap dog is yapping. The wolverines have surrounded the stone and are chanting an incantation. The badger doesn't breathe, not a whisker moves. Neither up nor down, although suspense is acrostic. After a paws of several minutes the badger quickly whips out his cross-stitched magic asbestos underpants and pulls them on ferociously. Once flings open the serving hatch and grabs the vial of sacred weasel water and makes a dot for the burrow entrance and confronts the seething mass of writhing wolverines squirming around the stone which is now glowing with a strange phosphorescent throb! 1 It was a dense night. Stumble patterns and brave yapping set apart the party of owl elves and gnome mimics as they writhe and chase and spurn the undergrowth around the latest beige badger silting. In the brave distance behoves the strange and incandescent foreshadows of wolverines and greenish melon lights upon the substantial forest fare. Young Zonograph, the tallest owl elf snuffed his warps harp and muttered - I can hear a badger. The badger is in trouble. I scents wolverines. Hurry there is no stone unready ton roll upturned in this lackadaisical pre-momentary of the word fandango. Meanwhile, or to be more precisereiouseless, high on hill stood a lonely man with a goathead, his fixedinterestrate stare directeddyboyhoodlesservilely at the burning black belching smokestacks of the town beyong the wolverine woods. The sound of a suddenly snuffeforadicalcified warps harp, brought memories back for Ludwig Hat, erstwhile butler and badger baiterribleedinglendervish of Vincent and Cara Van Hire. Ludwig stood immobile, imshelle and intexacoe, for Ludwig had been brained by falling groceries, dropped from almost a mile overhead and one mile and eight inches over shoulder, a result of the splitting of a cheap carrier pigeon on it's way home. Forcing his gaze downward Ludwig was horrified, not only had his part of the story not managed to settle on a definite form, not only did it lack content but now to his disgust he found that he had been rendereducededicateddyboyfriended by a tangerine!!! He couldn't even get that right. Ludwig crossed his eyes and dotted his teeth, relaxed and floated up, through the roof of his own mouth. Long and complicated wordadditions, he thought, canwearyoudownifyournot careful, and so he resolved to be more carefulinfuture. Win Cent the Magnificent and Cara, however, were seriously considering calling Sister Meg and entering into the fray. Sister Meg O'Lomania was after all acrostic champion frigidaire and good at getting badgers up and down and out of trees (and wolverines out of toasters for that matter.) Lap dogs she had no time for as their batteries always seemed to run out in the middle of a sent bottle of enormous palcritude. His eyes dilated and shuffled in the moonlight, his breathe came in short pants, his coughs in a skirt and his trousers rolled up like Venetian blinds caught in a mighty wurlitzer. Mrs. Shufflefang caught sight of herself in a nearby polished knob of a Milkman's portable pelmet crusher and she winced inwardly, tossing back a mane of flaxen hair that was tied in a bun and covered in currants. The badgers, for now there were five, all grabbed the reins of the milkman's horse and whipped it into a gallop and then into a small tea shop where it scattered several old ladies and a troupe of dwarves on an outing. Suddenly, Pequot Marmaduck threw a crumpet at Sister Meg. It caught her with a ping in the frigidaire and she fainted straight away, smashing the paw of the lap dog who was
Re: FLUXLIST: Woman Smashes Dog - Call Flour Sentries!
- Original Message - From: Allan Revich [EMAIL PROTECTED] To: [EMAIL PROTECTED] Sent: Monday, May 31, 2004 9:26 AM Subject: Re: FLUXLIST: Woman Smashes Dog - Call Flour Sentries! (Please add to the story wherever you see fit, add your name at the front and post it.) Man Bites Dog 42-page book made of fur, teeth, skin and bones Kathy Forer, Roger Stevens, Michael Leigh, Alan fffo, badgergirl, Carol Starr, Suse The Story So Far Fourteen wolverines and one lap dog chase a badger. But the badger is too fast and burrows beneath a paintbrush stuck in a stone. In the burrow are mushrooms and grain. The badger makes a broth ambrosia of the green grain and mushrooms and is soon asleep. The badger is dreaming that it was just a dream, there are no wolverines or lap dog because the badger was really awakened by the artist removing the paintbrush from the stone to begin painting for the morning. Little does the artist realize that the badger is in the burrow. Once the badger (a strange name for a badger some would say) is reassured as to its safety and breakfast is under way in the burrow; ambrosia of green grain and mushrooms with the added delight of mini marshmallows! The day is going well, but what was that strange sound? Thunder and a police siren mix with snoring. The badger jumps from his spot thinking the stone has imploded. When he hears the rain on the stone above, he realizes the electricity is still working, washes his face and soon falls back deep asleep. Hours later, Once, the badger, is awakened by the noise of wood against stone. It is night and the lap dog is yapping. The wolverines have surrounded the stone and are chanting an incantation. The badger doesn't breathe, not a whisker moves. Neither up nor down, although suspense is acrostic. After a paws of several minutes the badger quickly whips out his cross-stitched magic asbestos underpants and pulls them on ferociously. Once flings open the serving hatch and grabs the vial of sacred weasel water and makes a dot for the burrow entrance and confronts the seething mass of writhing wolverines squirming around the stone which is now glowing with a strange phosphorescent throb! 1 It was a dense night. Stumble patterns and brave yapping set apart the party of owl elves and gnome mimics as they writhe and chase and spurn the undergrowth around the latest beige badger silting. In the brave distance behoves the strange and incandescent foreshadows of wolverines and greenish melon lights upon the substantial forest fare. Young Zonograph, the tallest owl elf snuffed his warps harp and muttered - I can hear a badger. The badger is in trouble. I scents wolverines. Hurry there is no stone unready ton roll upturned in this lackadaisical pre-momentary of the word fandango. Meanwhile, or to be more precisereiouseless, high on hill stood a lonely man with a goathead, his fixedinterestrate stare directeddyboyhoodlesservilely at the burning black belching smokestacks of the town beyong the wolverine woods. The sound of a suddenly snuffeforadicalcified warps harp, brought memories back for Ludwig Hat, erstwhile butler and badger baiterribleedinglendervish of Vincent and Cara Van Hire. Ludwig stood immobile, imshelle and intexacoe, for Ludwig had been brained by falling groceries, dropped from almost a mile overhead and one mile and eight inches over shoulder, a result of the splitting of a cheap carrier pigeon on it's way home. Forcing his gaze downward Ludwig was horrified, not only had his part of the story not managed to settle on a definite form, not only did it lack content but now to his disgust he found that he had been rendereducededicateddyboyfriended by a tangerine!!! He couldn't even get that right. Ludwig crossed his eyes and dotted his teeth, relaxed and floated up, through the roof of his own mouth. Long and complicated wordadditions, he thought, canwearyoudownifyournot careful, and so he resolved to be more carefulinfuture. Win Cent the Magnificent and Cara, however, were seriously considering calling Sister Meg and entering into the fray. Sister Meg O'Lomania was after all acrostic champion frigidaire and good at getting badgers up and down and out of trees (and wolverines out of toasters for that matter.) Lap dogs she had no time for as their batteries always seemed to run out in the middle of a sent bottle of enormous palcritude. His eyes dilated and shuffled in the moonlight, his breathe came in short pants, his coughs in a skirt and his trousers rolled up like Venetian blinds caught in a mighty wurlitzer. Mrs. Shufflefang caught sight of herself in a nearby polished knob of a Milkman's portable pelmet crusher and she winced inwardly, tossing back a mane of flaxen hair that was tied in a bun and covered in currants. The badgers, for now there were five, all grabbed the reins of the milkman's horse and whipped it into a gallop and then into a small
Re: FLUXLIST: Woman Smashes Dog - Call Flour Sentries!
you wrote: I seem to have come to an impass in the story as it says message truncated at trhe bottom and I cant find the bit I want to add too? How does one get around this? I'm just guessing here that it's only in the reply part that you can't see the story, but I'm on the case. You seem to be using Yahoo Mail. Try this: Click onMail Options. Go to General Preferences in middle column. Near the bottom, select Include full original message when replying. Instead of default Include part of the original message when replying. While you're there, maybe, change screen width from 55 to 72 (or 74). That way the messages won't wrap line by line and get all funny-looking. Hope that helps you and other yahoos, Kathy
Re: FLUXLIST: Woman Smashes Dog - Call Flour Sentries!
---Many thanks Kathy for useful bit of info. hoping it will do the trick. Michael Kathy Forer [EMAIL PROTECTED] wrote: you wrote: I seem to have come to an impass in the story as it says message truncated at trhe bottom and I cant find the bit I want to add too? How does one get around this? I'm just guessing here that it's only in the reply part that you can't see the story, but I'm on the case. You seem to be using Yahoo Mail. Try this: Click onMail Options. Go to General Preferences in middle column. Near the bottom, select Include full original message when replying. Instead of default Include part of the original message when replying. While you're there, maybe, change screen width from 55 to 72 (or 74). That way the messages won't wrap line by line and get all funny-looking. Hope that helps you and other yahoos, Kathy Yahoo! Messenger - Communicate instantly...Ping your friends today! Download Messenger Now http://uk.messenger.yahoo.com/download/index.html
Re: FLUXLIST: Woman Smashes Dog - Call Flour Sentries!
--- Allan Revich [EMAIL PROTECTED] wrote: (Please add to the story wherever you see fit, add your name at the front and post it.) Man Bites Dog 42-page book made of fur, teeth, skin and bones Kathy Forer, Roger Stevens, Michael Leigh, Alan fffo, badgergirl, Carol Starr, Suse The Story So Far Fourteen wolverines and one lap dog chase a badger. But the badger is too fast and burrows beneath a paintbrush stuck in a stone. In the burrow are mushrooms and grain. The badger makes a broth ambrosia of the green grain and mushrooms and is soon asleep. The badger is dreaming that it was just a dream, there are no wolverines or lap dog because the badger was really awakened by the artist removing the paintbrush from the stone to begin painting for the morning. Little does the artist realize that the badger is in the burrow. Once the badger (a strange name for a badger some would say) is reassured as to its safety and breakfast is under way in the burrow; ambrosia of green grain and mushrooms with the added delight of mini marshmallows! The day is going well, but what was that strange sound? Thunder and a police siren mix with snoring. The badger jumps from his spot thinking the stone has imploded. When he hears the rain on the stone above, he realizes the electricity is still working, washes his face and soon falls back deep asleep. Hours later, Once, the badger, is awakened by the noise of wood against stone. It is night and the lap dog is yapping. The wolverines have surrounded the stone and are chanting an incantation. The badger doesn't breathe, not a whisker moves. Neither up nor down, although suspense is acrostic. After a paws of several minutes the badger quickly whips out his cross-stitched magic asbestos underpants and pulls them on ferociously. Once flings open the serving hatch and grabs the vial of sacred weasel water and makes a dot for the burrow entrance and confronts the seething mass of writhing wolverines squirming around the stone which is now glowing with a strange phosphorescent throb! 1 It was a dense night. Stumble patterns and brave yapping set apart the party of owl elves and gnome mimics as they writhe and chase and spurn the undergrowth around the latest beige badger silting. In the brave distance behoves the strange and incandescent foreshadows of wolverines and greenish melon lights upon the substantial forest fare. Young Zonograph, the tallest owl elf snuffed his warps harp and muttered - I can hear a badger. The badger is in trouble. I scents wolverines. Hurry there is no stone unready ton roll upturned in this lackadaisical pre-momentary of the word fandango. Meanwhile, or to be more precisereiouseless, high on hill stood a lonely man with a goathead, his fixedinterestrate stare directeddyboyhoodlesservilely at the burning black belching smokestacks of the town beyong the wolverine woods. The sound of a suddenly snuffeforadicalcified warps harp, brought memories back for Ludwig Hat, erstwhile butler and badger baiterribleedinglendervish of Vincent and Cara Van Hire. Ludwig stood immobile, imshelle and intexacoe, for Ludwig had been brained by falling groceries, dropped from almost a mile overhead and one mile and eight inches over shoulder, a result of the splitting of a cheap carrier pigeon on it's way home. Forcing his gaze downward Ludwig was horrified, not only had his part of the story not managed to settle on a definite form, not only did it lack content but now to his disgust he found that he had been rendereducededicateddyboyfriended by a tangerine!!! He couldn't even get that right. Ludwig crossed his eyes and dotted his teeth, relaxed and floated up, through the roof of his own mouth. Long and complicated wordadditions, he thought, canwearyoudownifyournot careful, and so he resolved to be more carefulinfuture. Win Cent the Magnificent and Cara, however, were seriously considering calling Sister Meg and entering into the fray. Sister Meg O'Lomania was after all acrostic champion frigidaire and good at getting badgers up and down and out of trees (and wolverines out of toasters for that matter.) Lap dogs she had no time for as their batteries always seemed to run out in the middle of a sent bottle of enormous palcritude. His eyes dilated and shuffled in the moonlight, his breathe came in short pants, his coughs in a skirt and his trousers rolled up like Venetian blinds caught in a mighty wurlitzer. Mrs. Shufflefang caught sight of herself in a nearby polished knob of a Milkman's portable pelmet crusher and she winced inwardly, tossing back a mane of flaxen hair that was tied in a bun and covered in currants. The badgers, for now there were five, all grabbed the reins of the milkman's horse and whipped it into a gallop and then into a small tea shop where it scattered several old ladies and a troupe of
Re: FLUXLIST: woman smashes dog - call four sentries!
Man Bites Dog 42-page book made of fur, teeth, skin and bones Kathy Forer, Roger Stevens, Michael Leigh, Alan fffo, badgergirl story so far: 14 wolverines and one lap dog chase a badger. But the badger is too fast and burrows beneath a paintbrush stuck in a stone. In the burrow are mushrooms and grain. The badger makes a badger ambrosia of the grain and mushrooms and is soon asleep. Hours later, the badger is awakened by the noise of wood against stone. It is night and the lap dog is yapping. The wolverines have surrounded the stone and are chanting an incantation. The badger doesn't breathe, not a whisker moves. The suspense is acrostic. After a paws of several minutes the badger quickly whips out his magic asbestos underpants and puts them on. He flings open the serving hatch and grabs the vial of sacred weasel water and makes a dot for the burrow entrance and confronts the seething mass of writhing wolverines squirming around the stone which is now glowing with a strange phosphorescent throb! 1 It was a dense night. Stumble patterns and brave yapping set apart the party of owl elves and gnome mimics as they writhed and chased and spurned the undergrowth around the latest beige badger silting. In the brave distance behove the strange and incandescent foreshadows of wolverines and greenish melon lights upon the substantial forest fare. Young Zonograph, the tallest owl elf snuffed his warps harp and muttered - I can hear a badger. The badger is in trouble. I scents wolverines. Hurry there is no stone unready ton roll upturned in this lackadaisical pre-momentary of the word fandango. Meanwhile, or to be more precisereiouseless, high on hill stood a lonely man with a goathead, his fixedinterestrate stare directeddyboyhoodlesservilely at the burning black belching smokestacks of the town beyong the wolverine woods. The sound of a suddenly snuffeforadicalcified warps harp, brought memories back for Ludwig Hat, erstwhile butler and badger baiterribleedinglendervish of Vincent and Cara Van Hire. Ludwig stood immobile, imshelle and intexacoe, for Ludwig had been brained by falling groceries, dropped from almost a mile overhead and one mile and eight inches over shoulder, a result of the splitting of a cheap carrier pigeon on it's way home. Forcing his gaze downward Ludwig was horrified, not only had his part of the story not managed to settle on a definite form, not only did it lack content but now to his disgust he found that he had been rendereducededicateddyboyfriended by a tangerine!!! He couldn't even get that right. Ludwig crossed his eyes and dotted his teeth, relaxed and floated up, through the roof of his own mouth. Nincent and Cara, however, were seriously considering calling Sister Meg and entering into the fray. Sister Meg O'Lomania was after all acrostic champion frigidaire and good at getting badgers out of trees and wolverines out of toasters. Lap dogs she had no time for as their batteries always seemed to run out in the middle of a sent bottle of enormous palcritude. His eyes dilated and shuffled in the moonlight, his breathe came in short pants and his trousers rolled up like venetain blinds caught in a mighty wurlitzer. Mrs. Shufflefang caught sight of herself ina nearby polished knob of a milkmans portable pelmet crusher and she winced inwardly, tossing back a mane of flaxen hair that was tied in a bun and covered in currants. The badgers, for now there were five, all grabbed the reins of the milkman's horse and whipped it into a gallop and then into a small tea shop where it scattered several old ladies and a troupe of dwarves on an outing. Suddenly, Pequot Marmaduck threw a crumpet at Sister Meg. It caught her with a ping in the frigidaire and she fainted straight away, smashing the paw of the lap dog who was dreaming of heaven sent chumlaka. Cara sprinkled Sister Meg and the lap dog each with half a gram of lemon juice. Meg cried out get me a toasted pineapple! and the dog sniffed the crumpet. Ludwig had fallen onto the milk cart and the badgers were busy cleaning the splashes from each other when seven wolverines walked by and whistled. The badgers had been mistaken for minks! Finally, they could answer Young Zonograph's call and they set out toward the southern phosphorescence, towing Mrs. Shufflegang who had the fixedinterestrate card for gas and carrots for the hybrid horse and roasted beast for themselves. II What's all this, then! Uncle Walt awoke with a tart. Carefully smearing the remains of his last bottle of bright orange nail varnish into his hair, he feebly crawled out of the hole. Lulu, meanwhile, disappeared into a cravat. There's badgers in there, I tells ya. I don't want to go to the steak house no more! Several of the badgers loitering around the enormous bonfire giggled loudly. A wolverne chuckled quietly to himself. Later that same day, 3,000 red-headed women converged on the small appliance
Re: FLUXLIST: woman mashes dog - calling all gentry!
Man Bites Dog 42-page book made of fur, teeth, skin and bones Kathy Forer, Roger Stevens, Michael Leigh, Alan fffo, badgergirl, Carol Starr story so far: 14 wolverines and one lap dog chase a badger. But the badger is too fast and burrows beneath a paintbrush stuck in a stone. In the burrow are mushrooms and grain. The badger makes a badger ambrosia of the grain and mushrooms and is soon asleep. The badger is dreaming that it was just a dream, there are no wolverines or lap dog because the badger was really awakened by the artist removing the paintbrush from the stone to begin painting for the morning. little does the artist realize that the badger is in the burrow. once the badger is reassured as to its safety breakfast is under way in the burrow; ambrosia of grain and mushrooms with the added delight of mini marshmallows! the day is going well, but what was that strange sound? Thunder and a police siren mix with snoring and the badger jumps from his spot thinking the stone has imploded. When he hears the rain on the stone above, he realizes the electricity is still working, washes his face and soon falls back deep asleep. Hours later, the badger is awakened by the noise of wood against stone. It is night and the lap dog is yapping. The wolverines have surrounded the stone and are chanting an incantation. The badger doesn't breathe, not a whisker moves. The suspense is acrostic. After a paws of several minutes the badger quickly whips out his magic asbestos underpants and puts them on. He flings open the serving hatch and grabs the vial of sacred weasel water and makes a dot for the burrow entrance and confronts the seething mass of writhing wolverines squirming around the stone which is now glowing with a strange phosphorescent throb! 1 It was a dense night. Stumble patterns and brave yapping set apart the party of owl elves and gnome mimics as they writhed and chased and spurned the undergrowth around the latest beige badger silting. In the brave distance behove the strange and incandescent foreshadows of wolverines and greenish melon lights upon the substantial forest fare. Young Zonograph, the tallest owl elf snuffed his warps harp and muttered - I can hear a badger. The badger is in trouble. I scents wolverines. Hurry there is no stone unready ton roll upturned in this lackadaisical pre-momentary of the word fandango. Meanwhile, or to be more precisereiouseless, high on hill stood a lonely man with a goathead, his fixedinterestrate stare directeddyboyhoodlesservilely at the burning black belching smokestacks of the town beyong the wolverine woods. The sound of a suddenly snuffeforadicalcified warps harp, brought memories back for Ludwig Hat, erstwhile butler and badger baiterribleedinglendervish of Vincent and Cara Van Hire. Ludwig stood immobile, imshelle and intexacoe, for Ludwig had been brained by falling groceries, dropped from almost a mile overhead and one mile and eight inches over shoulder, a result of the splitting of a cheap carrier pigeon on it's way home. Forcing his gaze downward Ludwig was horrified, not only had his part of the story not managed to settle on a definite form, not only did it lack content but now to his disgust he found that he had been rendereducededicateddyboyfriended by a tangerine!!! He couldn't even get that right. Ludwig crossed his eyes and dotted his teeth, relaxed and floated up, through the roof of his own mouth. Nincent and Cara, however, were seriously considering calling Sister Meg and entering into the fray. Sister Meg O'Lomania was after all acrostic champion frigidaire and good at getting badgers out of trees and wolverines out of toasters. Lap dogs she had no time for as their batteries always seemed to run out in the middle of a sent bottle of enormous palcritude. His eyes dilated and shuffled in the moonlight, his breathe came in short pants and his trousers rolled up like venetain blinds caught in a mighty wurlitzer. Mrs. Shufflefang caught sight of herself ina nearby polished knob of a milkmans portable pelmet crusher and she winced inwardly, tossing back a mane of flaxen hair that was tied in a bun and covered in currants. The badgers, for now there were five, all grabbed the reins of the milkman's horse and whipped it into a gallop and then into a small tea shop where it scattered several old ladies and a troupe of dwarves on an outing. Suddenly, Pequot Marmaduck threw a crumpet at Sister Meg. It caught her with a ping in the frigidaire and she fainted straight away, smashing the paw of the lap dog who was dreaming of heaven sent chumlaka. Cara sprinkled Sister Meg and the lap dog each with half a gram of lemon juice. Meg cried out get me a toasted pineapple! and the dog sniffed the crumpet. Ludwig had fallen onto the milk cart and the badgers were busy cleaning the splashes from each other when seven wolverines walked by and whistled. The badgers had been mistaken
Re: FLUXLIST: woman smashes dog - call four sentries!
--- Kathy Forer [EMAIL PROTECTED] wrote: Man Bites Dog 42-page book made of fur, teeth, skin and bones Kathy Forer, Roger Stevens, Michael Leigh, Alan fffo, badgergirl story so far: 14 wolverines and one lap dog chase a badger. But the badger is too fast and burrows beneath a paintbrush stuck in a stone. In the burrow are mushrooms and grain. The badger makes a badger ambrosia of the grain and mushrooms and is soon asleep. Hours later, the badger is awakened by the noise of wood against stone. It is night and the lap dog is yapping. The wolverines have surrounded the stone and are chanting an incantation. The badger doesn't breathe, not a whisker moves. The suspense is acrostic. After a paws of several minutes the badger quickly whips out his magic asbestos underpants and puts them on. He flings open the serving hatch and grabs the vial of sacred weasel water and makes a dot for the burrow entrance and confronts the seething mass of writhing wolverines squirming around the stone which is now glowing with a strange phosphorescent throb! 1 It was a dense night. Stumble patterns and brave yapping set apart the party of owl elves and gnome mimics as they writhed and chased and spurned the undergrowth around the latest beige badger silting. In the brave distance behove the strange and incandescent foreshadows of wolverines and greenish melon lights upon the substantial forest fare. Young Zonograph, the tallest owl elf snuffed his warps harp and muttered - I can hear a badger. The badger is in trouble. I scents wolverines. Hurry there is no stone unready ton roll upturned in this lackadaisical pre-momentary of the word fandango. Meanwhile, or to be more precisereiouseless, high on hill stood a lonely man with a goathead, his fixedinterestrate stare directeddyboyhoodlesservilely at the burning black belching smokestacks of the town beyong the wolverine woods. The sound of a suddenly snuffeforadicalcified warps harp, brought memories back for Ludwig Hat, erstwhile butler and badger baiterribleedinglendervish of Vincent and Cara Van Hire. Ludwig stood immobile, imshelle and intexacoe, for Ludwig had been brained by falling groceries, dropped from almost a mile overhead and one mile and eight inches over shoulder, a result of the splitting of a cheap carrier pigeon on it's way home. Forcing his gaze downward Ludwig was horrified, not only had his part of the story not managed to settle on a definite form, not only did it lack content but now to his disgust he found that he had been rendereducededicateddyboyfriended by a tangerine!!! He couldn't even get that right. Ludwig crossed his eyes and dotted his teeth, relaxed and floated up, through the roof of his own mouth. Nincent and Cara, however, were seriously considering calling Sister Meg and entering into the fray. Sister Meg O'Lomania was after all acrostic champion frigidaire and good at getting badgers out of trees and wolverines out of toasters. Lap dogs she had no time for as their batteries always seemed to run out in the middle of a sent bottle of enormous palcritude. His eyes dilated and shuffled in the moonlight, his breathe came in short pants and his trousers rolled up like venetain blinds caught in a mighty wurlitzer. Mrs. Shufflefang caught sight of herself ina nearby polished knob of a milkmans portable pelmet crusher and she winced inwardly, tossing back a mane of flaxen hair that was tied in a bun and covered in currants. The badgers, for now there were five, all grabbed the reins of the milkman's horse and whipped it into a gallop and then into a small tea shop where it scattered several old ladies and a troupe of dwarves on an outing. Suddenly, Pequot Marmaduck threw a crumpet at Sister Meg. It caught her with a ping in the frigidaire and she fainted straight away, smashing the paw of the lap dog who was dreaming of heaven sent chumlaka. Cara sprinkled Sister Meg and the lap dog each with half a gram of lemon juice. Meg cried out get me a toasted pineapple! and the dog sniffed the crumpet. Ludwig had fallen onto the milk cart and the badgers were busy cleaning the splashes from each other when seven wolverines walked by and whistled. The badgers had been mistaken for minks! Finally, they could answer Young Zonograph's call and they set out toward the southern phosphorescence, towing Mrs. Shufflegang who had the fixedinterestrate card for gas and carrots for the hybrid horse and roasted beast for themselves. II What's all this, then! Uncle Walt awoke with a tart. Carefully smearing the remains of his last bottle of bright orange nail varnish into his hair, he feebly crawled out of the hole. Lulu, meanwhile, disappeared into a cravat. There's badgers in there, I tells ya. I don't want to go to the steak house no
Re: FLUXLIST: woman smashes dog - call four sentries!
A submission for somewhere in part V: Ludwig, the erstwhile butler and badger baiterribleedinglendervish of Vincent and Cara Van Hire, and still wearing his magic asbestos underpants, awoke with three tarts and asked himself: What is the nature of the information that I am gaining? Is my contruction of history becoming detrimental? Whereupon he spontenantaliasly blurterupterucusurburped the following ditty: Let Badger be and Wolverine Escape to one of many oceans In waterwheels of aquamarine Let them play in scattered notions Let them see and let them pray And drink in corresponding potions While moon and stars circulate and then had tea and crumpets. - Original Message - From: Kathy Forer [EMAIL PROTECTED] To: [EMAIL PROTECTED] Sent: Saturday, May 29, 2004 4:25 AM Subject: Re: FLUXLIST: woman smashes dog - call four sentries! Man Bites Dog 42-page book made of fur, teeth, skin and bones Kathy Forer, Roger Stevens, Michael Leigh, Alan fffo, badgergirl story so far: 14 wolverines and one lap dog chase a badger. But the badger is too fast and burrows beneath a paintbrush stuck in a stone. In the burrow are mushrooms and grain. The badger makes a badger ambrosia of the grain and mushrooms and is soon asleep. Hours later, the badger is awakened by the noise of wood against stone. It is night and the lap dog is yapping. The wolverines have surrounded the stone and are chanting an incantation. The badger doesn't breathe, not a whisker moves. The suspense is acrostic. After a paws of several minutes the badger quickly whips out his magic asbestos underpants and puts them on. He flings open the serving hatch and grabs the vial of sacred weasel water and makes a dot for the burrow entrance and confronts the seething mass of writhing wolverines squirming around the stone which is now glowing with a strange phosphorescent throb! 1 It was a dense night. Stumble patterns and brave yapping set apart the party of owl elves and gnome mimics as they writhed and chased and spurned the undergrowth around the latest beige badger silting. In the brave distance behove the strange and incandescent foreshadows of wolverines and greenish melon lights upon the substantial forest fare. Young Zonograph, the tallest owl elf snuffed his warps harp and muttered - I can hear a badger. The badger is in trouble. I scents wolverines. Hurry there is no stone unready ton roll upturned in this lackadaisical pre-momentary of the word fandango. Meanwhile, or to be more precisereiouseless, high on hill stood a lonely man with a goathead, his fixedinterestrate stare directeddyboyhoodlesservilely at the burning black belching smokestacks of the town beyong the wolverine woods. The sound of a suddenly snuffeforadicalcified warps harp, brought memories back for Ludwig Hat, erstwhile butler and badger baiterribleedinglendervish of Vincent and Cara Van Hire. Ludwig stood immobile, imshelle and intexacoe, for Ludwig had been brained by falling groceries, dropped from almost a mile overhead and one mile and eight inches over shoulder, a result of the splitting of a cheap carrier pigeon on it's way home. Forcing his gaze downward Ludwig was horrified, not only had his part of the story not managed to settle on a definite form, not only did it lack content but now to his disgust he found that he had been rendereducededicateddyboyfriended by a tangerine!!! He couldn't even get that right. Ludwig crossed his eyes and dotted his teeth, relaxed and floated up, through the roof of his own mouth. Nincent and Cara, however, were seriously considering calling Sister Meg and entering into the fray. Sister Meg O'Lomania was after all acrostic champion frigidaire and good at getting badgers out of trees and wolverines out of toasters. Lap dogs she had no time for as their batteries always seemed to run out in the middle of a sent bottle of enormous palcritude. His eyes dilated and shuffled in the moonlight, his breathe came in short pants and his trousers rolled up like venetain blinds caught in a mighty wurlitzer. Mrs. Shufflefang caught sight of herself ina nearby polished knob of a milkmans portable pelmet crusher and she winced inwardly, tossing back a mane of flaxen hair that was tied in a bun and covered in currants. The badgers, for now there were five, all grabbed the reins of the milkman's horse and whipped it into a gallop and then into a small tea shop where it scattered several old ladies and a troupe of dwarves on an outing. Suddenly, Pequot Marmaduck threw a crumpet at Sister Meg. It caught her with a ping in the frigidaire and she fainted straight away, smashing the paw of the lap dog who was dreaming of heaven sent chumlaka. Cara sprinkled Sister Meg and the lap dog each with half a gram of lemon juice. Meg cried out get me a toasted pineapple! and the dog sniffed the crumpet. Ludwig had fallen onto the milk cart and the badgers were busy cleaning
Re: FLUXLIST: woman mashes god - call off our centuries!
I have nothing else to offer other than that---
Re: FLUXLIST: woman mashes dog - calling all gentry!
Man Bites Dog 42-page book made of fur, teeth, skin and bones Kathy Forer, Roger Stevens, Michael Leigh, Alan fffo, badgergirl, Carol Starr story so far: 14 wolverines and one lap dog chase a badger. But the badger is too fast and burrows beneath a paintbrush stuck in a stone. In the burrow are mushrooms and grain. The badger makes a badger ambrosia of the grain and mushrooms and is soon asleep. The badger is dreaming that it was just a dream, there are no wolverines or lap dog because the badger was really awakened by the artist removing the paintbrush from the stone to begin painting for the morning. little does the artist realize that the badger is in the burrow. once the badger is reassured as to its safety breakfast is under way in the burrow; ambrosia of grain and mushrooms with the added delight of mini marshmallows! the day is going well, but what was that strange sound? Thunder and a police siren mix with snoring and the badger jumps from his spot thinking the stone has imploded. When he hears the rain on the stone above, he realizes the electricity is still working, washes his face and soon falls back deep asleep. Hours later, the badger is awakened by the noise of wood against stone. It is night and the lap dog is yapping. The wolverines have surrounded the stone and are chanting an incantation. The badger doesn't breathe, not a whisker moves. The suspense is acrostic. After a paws of several minutes the badger quickly whips out his magic asbestos underpants and puts them on. He flings open the serving hatch and grabs the vial of sacred weasel water and makes a dot for the burrow entrance and confronts the seething mass of writhing wolverines squirming around the stone which is now glowing with a strange phosphorescent throb! 1 It was a dense night. Stumble patterns and brave yapping set apart the party of owl elves and gnome mimics as they writhed and chased and spurned the undergrowth around the latest beige badger silting. In the brave distance behove the strange and incandescent foreshadows of wolverines and greenish melon lights upon the substantial forest fare. Young Zonograph, the tallest owl elf snuffed his warps harp and muttered - I can hear a badger. The badger is in trouble. I scents wolverines. Hurry there is no stone unready ton roll upturned in this lackadaisical pre-momentary of the word fandango. Meanwhile, or to be more precisereiouseless, high on hill stood a lonely man with a goathead, his fixedinterestrate stare directeddyboyhoodlesservilely at the burning black belching smokestacks of the town beyong the wolverine woods. The sound of a suddenly snuffeforadicalcified warps harp, brought memories back for Ludwig Hat, erstwhile butler and badger baiterribleedinglendervish of Vincent and Cara Van Hire. Ludwig stood immobile, imshelle and intexacoe, for Ludwig had been brained by falling groceries, dropped from almost a mile overhead and one mile and eight inches over shoulder, a result of the splitting of a cheap carrier pigeon on it's way home. Forcing his gaze downward Ludwig was horrified, not only had his part of the story not managed to settle on a definite form, not only did it lack content but now to his disgust he found that he had been rendereducededicateddyboyfriended by a tangerine!!! He couldn't even get that right. Ludwig crossed his eyes and dotted his teeth, relaxed and floated up, through the roof of his own mouth. Nincent and Cara, however, were seriously considering calling Sister Meg and entering into the fray. Sister Meg O'Lomania was after all acrostic champion frigidaire and good at getting badgers out of trees and wolverines out of toasters. Lap dogs she had no time for as their batteries always seemed to run out in the middle of a sent bottle of enormous palcritude. His eyes dilated and shuffled in the moonlight, his breathe came in short pants and his trousers rolled up like venetain blinds caught in a mighty wurlitzer. Mrs. Shufflefang caught sight of herself ina nearby polished knob of a milkmans portable pelmet crusher and she winced inwardly, tossing back a mane of flaxen hair that was tied in a bun and covered in currants. The badgers, for now there were five, all grabbed the reins of the milkman's horse and whipped it into a gallop and then into a small tea shop where it scattered several old ladies and a troupe of dwarves on an outing. Suddenly, Pequot Marmaduck threw a crumpet at Sister Meg. It caught her with a ping in the frigidaire and she fainted straight away, smashing the paw of the lap dog who was dreaming of heaven sent chumlaka. Cara sprinkled Sister Meg and the lap dog each with half a gram of lemon juice. Meg cried out get me a toasted pineapple! and the dog sniffed the crumpet. Ludwig had fallen onto the milk cart and the badgers were busy cleaning the splashes from each other when seven wolverines walked by and whistled. The badgers had been mistaken for minks! Finally, they could answer Young Zonograph's call
