Saturday, September 27, 2008

Bells, Whistles, and a Sack of Clams

Quoth Janglestein:

Greetings indeed to all who are still with us. Forgive me for my astonishingly low posting record, but I assure you the eloquence in my speech will soothe your nerves, and is far more powerful than action. While other blogs may offer you present posts, I offer you hope: hope that one day I will post again, and that post will restore Quoth Trollpop's status on not only blogger, but on typepad, on digg and beyond, as the greatest region of the entire webs.

Eagerly do I grasp for excuses for my lack of speech in weeks past, but alack, none of any depth spurts forth from this head of mine which I do rack so. Perhaps my fingers have simply run dry. Regardless, I must ask for each of you to bestow forgiveness upon this loved one who has gone so astray.

Forget and forget. Tis the Jangle way :-).

Sunday, September 21, 2008

Motivating My Mesencephalon

Quoth Bagelstein:

If I were not the fool that I was, asking for the hearken angels to come from the heavens and give the sky lots of toys or some such nonsense I would understand that was a dire and unfitting request of the many that know the uncanny knowings of beavers. However my Mesencephalic phases bring me not the air I breathe but the food I crave and sounds I would wish to taste. I rely within the middle of my cerebral, awaiting reply from who should be considered greater. No tectum will let me comprehend the streaming video shows that are relayed to my sights, Nor Tegmentum capable of telling me the inner workings of the master planner. Who are you? What Am I? You are not? Nevermind...

Thursday, September 18, 2008

To Dance with the Undine

Quoth Wafflestein:
Life beneath the waves is dead. Our pasts lie just beyond the reach of the sunlight's tendrils, half obscured by sand and grime, sealed away in the discarded footlockers of sunken ships, at depths to which no human may descend unaided, and to which even the soulless undine seldom venture.

But what is lost is best forgotten, and what is the past but an incomplete form of the present? All that was is contained in what is, and all that is is contained in what shall be.

So forget your sadness at the absence of the Trollpop over this past week. Let the dark clouds that have formed over your hearts melt away in the glorious sunshine that this blog now brings forth. Let mirth spring unrestrained from your lips in a glee unknown by the logical mind, remembering the infantile state before logic formed fully in your head, looking onwards to the senile state in which it will again be lost. What is life, but a brief moment of somber lucidity strapped between the ethereal years of bliss and dementia?

Laugh. Laugh until the blood drains from your face and all you can do is gasp for the breath further laughter demands. There is no happiness greater than that which exists in spite of all else. True bliss is not ignorance, but incomprehension.

"Life is a clusterfuck of conflicted interest."
- G.K. Chesterton, The Everlasting Man

Thursday, September 11, 2008

Off to work! Off to work? Off to work!

Quoth Bagelstein

It is I, Off to labor in the sweaty underbelly of the Global work horse, on this grand ambiguous day, at my grand ambiguous location! On the way to my esteemed worker locale I daresay the hobo will know the smell so well that I shall linger in his thoughts that are but the mere price of seven rupees dipped in honey. I will slake the thirsts of many, and wrought asunder the evil axis of hungry lies against the gut! It will be a good day to wage war on the orifices indeed...

My overlords know me as a kind sort and loyal slave to the Machine that I am bound to. I am known to have much pride in them for our Commune is a proud one, older than time, dirt, and the great cosmic creator of the hot pocket. Do not fear my loss, for I am well at heart, capable of fighting the great machine in the ways of fisties.

Indeed I take heed to lord Jangles' Commands my place abdicated common responsibilities on the yester anon. My great foe Anonymom and his furiously varying rates of choco thievery will not return under threat of taxes and certainty. Jangle is a good lord. I obey his commands, as any dog would the piper.

A Miniscule Offering

Quoth Janglestein:

For all readers who are faint of heart, I must offer my increasingly profuse apologies for the violent word-battle which has emerged between our own Bagelstein and his Anonymously insulting tyrant. This is, generally a land of peace, but for the present it appears to have become more a battle ground than a shelter. While Bagelstein may rightly defend his territory, it is my dearest wish that this rage may continue no longer than absolutely necessary.

For tis Kriegstein who wars, and Assstein who spanks; Bagelstein is but a peaceful creature apt to spread his cream cheese from time to time, but otherwise wholly unprepared for such a warring environment. May we all join hands as one!

Ravings of a Brazen Anonymom!!

Quoth Bagelstein:

Quoth Anonymom!

Anonymous said...

Dear fuckingretardstein, learn to spell... Learn to type... Learn to write... but most of all, learn to SHUT THE FUCK UP.

Of all the blogs you've written there is only one half decent one, and even that one was shit compared to all the other Trollpops. You are a disgrace.

Now go crawl in a whole and die you stupid, stupid douche.

September 10, 2008 11:21 PM

Bagelstein Shall work this comment into a most glorious translation for the blogowebs!!!

Anonymom said...

Dear Captain Awesompants, learn to spell... Learn to type... Learn to write... but most of all, learn to PLEASE THE HOLY PICKLE BRIGADES!!!!

Of all the blogs you've written all speak the songs of angels and pie, and even your most recent ramblings show the greatness of your wits! I am a homo!


September 10, 2008 11:21 PM

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

The error(s) of our Life(s) Is too few S's

Quoth Bagelstein:

Oh the folly of our ways! Why do they all call me a fool who eats his own words of the soupy discord spilling from my frothy mouth. Life has too few of many, when will the multitudes of nothings be capable of encroaching of what we have available to us?

I know not the knowing of nothing...

On a separate notepad. Those doubting the careless ways of bagels must repent of their folly! Unacceptable appreciatory ramblings of nothings they are... Dear Jangle knows thou hearts full of ire and confusion.

We are the legionnaires of new blog-0-wisdom!

Muck Muck... Mucky internet... Suck on that one!

Sunday, September 7, 2008

Many Happy Returns

Quoth Janglestein:

I am pleased to announce that Sarah and I settled our petty differences and shall no longer be separated. Fear not children, you will be raised in an unbroken home :-D

A Sad Day Indeed

Quoth Janglestein:

I bid to my readers this day, sad news. Miss Nielson and myself have chosen to separate for a week, and potentially end this separation in divorce.

I, like you, am of course dumbfounded. But her words today have shown to me deeply rooted negative feelings towards myself which I, intoxicated with the vanilla extract of love, had never seen before. Such is love, such is love :-(.

And so, for this coming week, I will not be seen upon the Tales of Wit and Charm, nor shall I read any posts or comments upon the site. Should she so indicate after the week is over, I shall never return.

Why, you may ask, do I make this offer? The answer, of course, is love. Love forceth itself on no woman or pug; it is rather a fragile dance which, in synchrony, produces beauty, but in dissonant misunderstanding, produces naught but bruised feet and broken stilettos.

You, the children, are welcome on either of our blogs at any time during this week, and I do pray you'll visit this lonely Jangle often with words of support. I will have, I am sure, a plethora of lovelorn songs and poetry which my broken heart will yearn to share. Be there also for my dearest Sarah, for whom this time apart may be equally painful.

In Heart-Aching Sorrow,
Trollpop Janglestein

Friday, September 5, 2008


Quoth Bagelstein:
I. Bagel in Bagelstein, hark not lament,
I. of Coke and comment, Hark not dissent,
Who? Are the beligerent fools that trounce and trollop,

Uppity, digerydo, I see you. Corporate Ikeman!

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

An Excerpt from the Doggerels of a Trollpop

Quoth Volkerstein:

"Canis lupus dingo dangle
Jingle-jangle stein
Lull would I in gyre spangle
Should dingo dangle mine!"

Monday, September 1, 2008

Hark! The herald Trollpop!

Quoth Volkerstein:

Children of the cyber net, Neilsteinians, Trollpopites, and rest; heed these words of guidance. Upon this stark and sterile land hath taken root a seed, festering deep in the hearts of the malevolent and smoldering to the brink of exhaustion such great iniquities as to leave the reticent of hand and malleable of tongue chagrined to states of grave and sheer apprehension - conditions since reserved solely for those of chaste and unadulterated fortitude, righteous in their power and momentous in their luminosity. Yet extol upon me not the acclaim owed those whom indubitably rest exempt of reticent praise, for rapidly approaches the day on which all whom hear the call from the darkest recesses of the mind - wherein resides the radiance of immorality - and answer willfully shall fall under the indicative judgment of unabashed retribution. Hark, for I am Volkerstein of the Trollpop brethren.

One in the Jangle is worth two in the Jingle

Quoth Jinglestein:

I must explain my absence and abscesses.
1.  The absence was due to soul-searching.  By fasting ever so monastically I hoped to find my soul..........and..........good news! I found him.  You'd never guess where the lil bugger was hiding either.  It turns out, he was in the fiber of my being!
2. The abscesses are caused by a rare and disfiguring skin condition :-|

Seeing my brethren bond together so goldenly has brought a swelling to my bosom.  In fact, not since I downed an entire pint of robitussin have my innards felt so swollen with medicinally-induced pride!  
My third ocular cavity is quaking with copulatory glee!  A solid 6.9 on the Richter Scale, if my meteorological degree from Vassar serves me correctly. ;-) There is one thing mind-scrabblingly unsettling about the above advert though.  I am, of course, referring to this she-beasts uncanny ability to remove her spoon from her nose!  It sets my chains a-jingling and my heebies a-jeebying just mulling this over, under, and every which way.  One can only imagine what the next logical step would be: forks removed from knee caps, skewers removed from epicanthic folds!  My mother always used to say, "A Mongoloid may feel down because of his syndrome, but he'll feel worse without his skewer."

Stay strong, my fellow epicanthally-inclined friend, and keep that utensil deeply rooted in your smell factory!

Jumping Jehovah's fat, I fear I am late for a cough syrup symposium with my fellow popping trolls, good day to you!

Brother of Sisters or Brother Again Rejoice in the words of Trollpop

Quoth Bagelstein:

Hark! Behold the writings! the. Writings. What?

Our brother of meagerly jewelry jew-er-y is fortunately of famely disposition, says this jew with messianic knowledge of the diamond hearted soldiers of Abraham. I toast my brotherly sisterly brotherly androgen ravings that uplift and take the heart of every young watermelon in bloom.

The stock in our harking is at a close with bull markets and high vaulted chapels where the CEOs worship the golden calf of prosperity. Soon us shall rule the Internets speaking fire and madness for all those in pursuit of collective clowning, (cloning?) yes.

My friend the Jangle of jingle and jolly as all kringles of yore. Salutation and celebration towards you. Let all raving of pretentious thoughts be laid aside. I mock and flap my fingers at the unkeenery on the internets, fools they are, dangerous in themselves, exceeding that of Mir Jangle.

"Fools are eager to condemn pie and its ways of flavory treason in lue of its treacherous cousins, the meat pie of savory intent. Lo! Do not fear the pie! Accept, partake and eat of it. But fuck peach pie... Noone likes you >:O"

~Trollpop Piestein.

A Fine Day For Sunshine

Quoth Wafflestein:

It fills me with joy to see my cohort Janglestein to be so wonderfully honored on Miss Neilson's blog. Frankly, there were a few among us who were worried that his obsession would yield nothing, but he has come forth as chief among the Trollpop, and for that I can only congratulate him.

But to the rest, I say, show yourselves! Jinglestein! Bagelstein! Assstein! You have sat in silence for too long! The hordes of the internet grow in number daily, and you sit by and do nothing? At a time like this, your support is crucial. It is written:
Pestilence is not your only foe. Nor is Death, War, or Famine. Apocalypse will begin within you. Complacency is the road to destruction. Act now, lest the future bring you misery, with the blame resting wholly on your own shoulders. Your fate is your own.
- Stevenson, The Death of Convenience

A Cool Dip In the Pond of Dreams

Quoth Janglestein:

I write, late this eve (or early this morn, as my current happy proximity to dawn suggests), in sheer, exuberant ecstasy.

In a mere pocket-full of hours, my words shall appear on the #1 region of the internet. My own close friend, idol, and obsession, Mr. Sarah B. Nielson, has agreed--nay, REQUESTED--to a guest post on my behalf.

Ever since I was a wee little Janglet in the locust-ridden corn fields of South Dakota, I have dreamed of naught but this moment -- to step inside the high-heeled footwear of Sarah Nielson for a day and sing my tales to world as she, so eloquently, doth. Now, with my entire life's ambition staring at me expectantly like an innocent, Mongoloid child, I must ask -- what is left to dream in this little old head of mine? What does one do when his life's work has been completed in a matter of months?

Naturally, the next logical steps have all occurred to me. Now that I reside upon her Tales of Wit And Charm, one might equally expect me to move into Nielstein Manor itself, living happily among the RLOs, Daisys, and so have yous of the world.

Yet after then, what? Shall we co-write a weekly newspaper article regarding our own love, dating, and entertainment? Ah, certainly a time will come for this as well.

As surely as the rock I sit on, all of these things will come to pass. But enough speculation; today is not a day of dreams, but of jubilation. With my fathers and mothers watching from below in joyful agony, I feel nothing if not pride. Let the battle cry of all Trollpop ring far and wide, stretching out across the seas in loud, orgasmic joviality!

Ironic indeed that on this Labor Day, we celebrate the pangs of growth, the crowning of achievements, and the birthing of a new and glorious life of Janglestein, Assstein, Wafflestein, Bagelstein, Jinglestein, Volkerstein, and Kriegstein!