Thursday, August 6, 2009

Hark! A Lark Doth Sit nExt to me...


A lark sits next to the rubbery coils of a octopi that grasps so tenderly. What are they truly meant for?

she(herself) has a special kattarykittenesque that makes teh skins so comfy buy oh how the moon light makes shining segway across the body. I never understood this jewery tomfoolery! That.

Who are these cat attacks upon a scratching post that maul the blacker treat like he's worth the bite. I never got these optical spectaculars that my breaded cohorts engage with.

they pour molasses talk all over and I say fooey. A pox upon them I say. I care not what these watchmakers makes with the function of the times, events. I know not. not...


This is my command you readers. Thdingo knows certainty. certainty. certain.

Sunday, August 2, 2009

Sixteen cadelabras

It was until my grandiose plan of apples completed prematurely that needles and the steel babies brought attention to my face discontent of the horrid casterburgers of france in which little child actors catch my inner child's attention with their larger child's grown up movie carriage shoppe.

Since when were apples cherries?! Curse their eyebuds!

I felt lone sem today upon my interaction variation distraction of minor prophets that spoke on the tele about the rain and diamonds. Their forcast... Un. acc. ceptatbleimo.

What does the world enter into when cats feed the feet of billions with orange creme? How dare they(you). I love pie.

Hark the pie bishop. There are many.

Peace and dutch be upon you internets...

~Quoth Bagelstein...

Thursday, July 30, 2009

Drip Drop Drowzee Pants

The Pants...


They melt, a penguin tux to ashes. Close.




Look at those stars. The Dormouse would look. I have looked upon occasion, preparing for preparatory participation in preliminary proctor parties, that these pants are drowzee. How drowzee.

In three days I flew a coup I will. There will be hangtime party at the institution of that name. I will rejoice and relax into oblivion. I will be blaze. Reading theology of the jewery.

Your Delicatessen...


Monday, July 27, 2009

A pox upon the houses that spite the raisinette!

I hath shriveled most profusely, my condiments of glory, used up and replaced with empty plastic good fer nothin's. My cohort jangle, jingled his proud jangle at last, and heaved a heavy stout pickle.

it was salty as my tears. Our guise was revealed. my bruce wayne of sorts. our grapish ruse is but a raisin.

tasty raisins!

We were as millers, beering out philanthropy amoungst the webs, Though i a steward, watching the condor of gondor still wait for a next time to rally my vice once again...


Sunday, March 1, 2009

The secret identity of trollpop...

tomfoolery to thou all!

The jewying delecetestant shalt not divy up such portions yet.

Our coming is nigh, repent the ways of internets. I shall bring you meals of foolery soon!

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

Death be not proud

Quoth Bagelstein:

Though thou rains mighty and dreadful,
thou are not so...

My face and ego is drenched with the rain as well as my confidence...


Monday, November 24, 2008

Tread Softly, Because You Tread On My Memes

Quoth Janglestein:

A slap happy hello to my fine and loyal companions, who have borne with my lack of postings. I am exceedingly well, and I trust that the internets which so bless me, have blessed each of yourselves in turn :-)

My dearest friend, favorite after-dinner mint, and South American mountain range has requested that I continue her meme. To understand her odd request, I first consulted my dear hellbound friend Richard Dawkins: "These alleged problems of memes are exaggerated. The most important objection is the allegation that memes are copied with insufficiently high fidelity to function as Darwinian replicators." I trust no further explanation is required.

I have been requested to provide seven things about my lonesome self, which my dearest readers were unaware of. Sadly, I am afraid this is impossible, as I have made my heart open to the critical eye of the Web, who have chastised and abused it to the point of disrepair. But in the hopes of passing on my liquidy memes to future memerations, I will search my soul once more.

1. Sarah Nielson was not my first love. Indeed, I have loved many and lost many, from Lisa Bonet to Marty Feldman. In my mind I had oft lived the polygamist lifestyle, mentally fornicating with dozens, nay, baker's dozens at a time! But upon seeing the beautiful face of Miss Bellum, I promptly halted all other imaginary relationships, to devote my full attention to her and her alone.

2. While working in the fields of South Dakota as a child, Pa Jangle -- influenced by a bottle of "jolly juice" as he affectionately described it -- and myself would often dance nude on the nearby highway. Oh would how jolly we were, the breeze flapping our genitals about like windchimes, the slaps against our thighs keeping cool percussion with the melody to which we danced.

3. While Miss Bellum is, and shall always be, my true love, I have grown increasingly fond of RLO in these latter weeks. My dreams of establishing a euphoric den of pleasure in the Sierra Madres with Daisy and Snielson may, indeed, be able to squeeze and make room for the ably-bodied metrosexual. But 'tis no sense fantasizing about the icing when I have not yet attained the cake itself, as my dear father says.

4. I bathe with water alone. The Janglestein family has always preached the importance of liquid, and an absolute disgust for all cleansers, which erode away at the nerves of the skin. I am valiantly hoping that Sarah is also of this opinion, so that no arguments may break out during the inevitable intimate showers which would occur in our relationship.

5. As miss Nielson no longer posts on the weekends, I have pursued other activities to pass the time. These include kegels, mead brewing, and autofellatio. Sadly, none has yet been mastered, and many a muscle has been twisted in the process.

6. When my mother finally admitted the falsity of Santa Clause's existence, I wrenched every hair from my head, and promptly stuck them in the chimney, in a moment of extreme childhood tantrum. Paralyzed with depression, I did not post on Sarah's blog for three days after this incident.

7. For months I have poured out the broth of my soul upon the crock pot of the web. Yet often, my dearest friends claim to know nothing about me. Baffling as this is, I heartily invite any and all to remedy it at this instant: ask me any question you desire, and your lowly Jangling companion will answer for this, the 7th of my Memographic off'rings.