Heretofore

Of a subtler ilk, this deer wagon
waxes transparent when I lick its foliage
in a counterclockwise fashion.

Intriguing twist: Trick Smith Limited,
world-renowned jackalope dealer, now beckons
[VALUED CUSTOMER] to become an exclusive member
of its carnage-related festivities!*
*Offer not valid in lower Nevada
or the Lesser Antilles.

The topic of pencil shaving trefoils
has popped to the forefront of today’s
peculiar poser posse club meeting,
guaranteeing a spirited debate
unlike any other heretofore witnessed.

Cumin digestion may hurt the back,
particularly when a wily attack dog
headbutts you, unawares, from behind
right after you’ve finished a serving
of your regionally-famous rabbit stew.

——

Originally posted on 10/10/11,
entitled #34

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Catch a Break

Carnival phraseology toots the patoots; mustn’t forget to hold the stetson hat apparatus. Something about Colorado’s avocados just doesn’t sit right with me, I reckon.

I enjoy a vintage turnkey turpentine just as much as the next fella, but I’ve been charged with so much turquoise scrutiny that I couldn’t possibly catch a break with my micromanagerial authoritarian figures. Well, perhaps I can sneak a little one while they’re out defending their freedom to be overbearing toward the less fortunate in the world… what could that possibly hurt (aside from those tragically codependent trout fisheries and sea monkey dispensaries peppering the eastern seaboard)?

Appetite for the Absurd

Heralded as the Jonestown Network alternative to Stem, the Fruitful Terrier Sitter Extraordinaire, Pango Pango Junction packs quite the wallop when it comes to pure, unadulterated edutainment at a reasonable price. Parked at the intersection of broad leaf swelling and matriarchal patronage, I defy anybody to come away without some kind of interesting new trivia in their noggin by the end of each episode.

Before I agreed to subject myself to the bizarre ritual that is test-viewing a public television program for the determination of proper demographic distribution, I thought “oh jeez, here goes another several hours of my life that I’m never getting back. And right on the heels of finishing up my kite-flying apprenticeship at Old American [for Profit] University, too.”

But, being the good sport that I am, I didn’t even balk at the dubious honor. I suppose it doesn’t hurt that the show’s producer and I had a bit of a fling a few holiday seasons ago, and that we still flirt pretty heartily with each other. I’m a real sucker for shallow intimacy, especially if it’s spread out over the course of several years, where I can put the person/people out of mind for a while and reconnect with that polarizing animal magnetism as though we’re on a sinking ship/divebombing plane/bucking bronco… I guess it would be tough to get two of us on one of those beasts at the same time, but you get my drift.

You know, I’ve had a lot of time to think about this topic. Not to wax depressing, but living alone has afforded me the time to step back and reflect upon the foundation of relationships at their very essence of innate human fragility. I’ve come to develop the inconvenient understanding that I was never meant to settle down with any one person, and the fairy tale love affair might as well go the way of the dinosaurs–at least, as far as I’m concerned. Damn, now I’ve gone and gotten myself all glum again! What the hell?!

But anyway, I promised Gwen I’d do her a favor by giving my unvarnished opinion on the latest project, so I borrowed her official showbiz flash drive and gave the first few episodes a spin. Yes, plural episodes. Just shooting a pilot clearly wouldn’t have been enough doing to properly showcase their dean’s list-caliber aptitude for creative enterprises. One could chalk it up to insurmountable confidence or simply an arrogance that never got flushed out of the system by regular beatings/embarrassments, but I reserve such judgments for the critics of the world.

Well, this review got a bit out of hand. Suffice it to say that I recommend Pango Pango Junction to anyone looking to spend some time on a contemporary spin of the “one-size-fits-all daytime head-scratcher” subgenre. Or simply anyone with a healthy enough appetite for the absurd.

Until we meet again, gentle reader–

Sardonicus Q. Jellyknife, Esq.

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