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.

Saturday, November 8, 2008

Beliggerant Duties

Quoth: Bagelstein

How many times must I, wake up to find my laundry had not been erased from my plane of existence to find it in Africa with Beyonce and Karim Abdul Jabar? Hmmm? Don't answer that...

I walked from my lowly hovel down a road. It was a dirty road, full of the scum of society's dregs emptying into the earth like a undue punishment from a cruel unloving god (there is no such thing. And as I strolled through my arches of communes I found the hut where my fabricating deeds could be done. To my undue fortune, not unlike an ostrich playing scrabble posthumously with Ted Kennedy, the machina that growled fearsomely was unoccupied, distracted by the fruits of its labor, slathering it's drool upon its metal bounty. Today was was a good day to wage war to be sure.

I was a battle on two fronts. A lost general had yet to return to his arsenal, his troops abandoned left shivering in the moist air around them. The unholy abominable machine of reckoning, that stood motionless, as no fear could overcome, not even when his gates could be breached. I unwittingly fed his thirst of war, his body began to rumble, and the day would commence, though I would win. I already knew.

And now I wait, As my troops battle within it's confines I wait unwittingly, soon the battle will be won, and I will be clothed in my victory...

Wednesday, November 5, 2008


Quoth Janglestein:

I arrived home this afternoon to find great jubilation upon Sarah Nielson's blog. I was intrigued, no doubt, as to what we were celebrating, but happily joined in the festivities (as is my Janglin' nature). I then proceeded to visit to learn about the event for which both my "rocking" and my "cock" were supposedly out.

To my unseemly horror, I discovered this. I am deeply appalled that my friends would celebrate the untimely passing of Michael Crichton!

Albeit, his tale was a bit muddled, and prehistoric creatures do bring my jimbles to trembling frequencies. Perhaps I understand why those few herpetophobics may have celebrated this passing, not unlike the short, dancing glee of Baum's little creatures upon the Western Witch's demise.

What frightens me more is that, while the news claims he died of cancer, many upon Miss Bellum's blog have taken credit for the act! "We did it" they exuberantly claim! Therefore I must conclude that they are, indeed, the causes of cancer.

To have friends with such power is incredibly frightening. Strangely erotic, no doubt, and my respect for my darling Nielstein has gone up immensely. But frightening nonetheless. :-)

Saturday, November 1, 2008

Abridged: For Kel

Quoth Bagelstein:

It is I. Your Hebrew national, taking a bite out of crime and into high cholesterol and reruns of Oprah. The traveler of womanly kind, kind in all manner and words, asks of us to bestow the words of kindness and conceivery, in effort to lift a veil from my obfuscated ways. I say NAY! Though I, a mindful adjudicator of penguin shamans of the world, feel a kingly vow of chivalry towards them who know nothing. I am a Veil of riddles I am, listen well to my plan, away away, and off I go.

Who are you I ask? Actually, that you ask. I am neither. We are a collective, with knowledge of intimacy, collecting to distribute intimate wisdom, not derisive, lo unfacetious, and how sar-cleverly. The world is our oyster, to parade and dance all the time, to live in such luxury, it would be almost a crime. We reach into the minds of many to pirate their wealth and skiffs of PFCs. Abridged we are a crafty bunch, few and bold alike. our mission clear and simple, to spread the fire of spite. For the markets of Genoa are ripe a plenty, with Athens bold and provocative, yet the legions of Gaul are many, poisoning the well. No one likes romantics. That's where realism came from fool!

Abridged: For Kel

Who we are, that is...