They’re coming to take you away, HA HA They’re coming to take you away, HO HO HEE HEE HA HA
In the olden days they used to say, Beware of the dog. This, of course, is the bright new age of (in the ancient, Chinese way of naming stuff) the ding bat and we do things differently now.
So, now we are training moths to go and attack our enemies. Mind you, those bats will have to be real careful out there, unless they want to end up as private detective Kitten. For every moth patrol there will be some eager beaver SWAT team going for glory.
For the rest, it’s been another one of those What was God smoking? news weeks - where we learnt that dolphins now speak Welsh, elves steal lingerie by gunpoint and animal rights activists, in order to draw attention to the plight of abused animals, have started to eat corgis.
Then, there was the news that some Dutch students had invented alcohol powder. Just add it to water and it’s party time - sort of. It would have been better though if these kids had been able to come up with something really useful; like a celebrity solvent.
We could have tested that first on that disgusting Sharon Stone shrew. Yes, she’s managed to make the news again, playing auctioneer in Cannes, to raise money for AIDS research.
How noble, yes? Well, Hell, no. This is the same bitching broad who earlier this year refused to turn up at a benefit in Santa Monica for the Children Affected by AIDS Foundation, because she was upset that a lookalike Stone doll she was presented with didn’t look all that much like her after all. (What the problem was? I don’t know. Maybe the doll did wear underwear or worse, maybe it even vaguely looked like a human being.)
Which reminds me, it seems that American cemeteries are desperately looking for custom. Obviously, not enough people are kicking the bucket. Well, we can’t expect everybody to be this good at the DIY of dying. So, my advice to the cemetery folks would be to get proactive - like a killer rabbit, or a patriotic pretzel.
They could make a brilliant start by calling Sharon Stone, to tell her they have some publicity stunt gig for her and simply take it from there.
Then, when they’re really ready for this all out, new recruitment drive, they could do much worse than start with reuniting all the mad followers of Falwell with their dead hero. When that job is done they could spend some happy time doing unto the natural history museum people in Texas what the latter would do to some blameless trees.
Having successfully dealt with that little assignment, then they really should go for broke and rid us of all those imbeciles who blame (and sue) the whole wide world before even starting to contemplate that they might bear at least some responsibility for their own actions.
And wouldn’t it be nice, if some of these deserving cemeteries would specialize in staging six-feet-under reunion concerts for all those bands that should have been buried at the close of the sixties? I’d pay good money to sit on a quiet bench, not to face the music exactly but to be there when the head crow would announce, Here they are, finally: The Osmond Brothers! Now take them away!
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