"Life may have no meaning. Or even worse, it may have a meaning of which I disapprove."
(Ashleigh Brilliant)



In deference to those of you cybersuckers who like to hear the voice of Hacker X, hear goes:

Saw "Ransom" at the Writers’ Guilt the other evening and would have gladly paid 8 million to get out. TV Guide? "Baaaaad values in a mess of angry father hates mother hates son sacrificial hogwash." That is -- corrupt cops, corrupt capitalists, even (gasp) a FBI-er fibs for hire; corrupt picture of a corrupt society holding a mirror up to a corrupt Hollywood. and we love/hate our kids because they’ll get it all even if they have don’t take it away from us first. Everybody’s armed for harm. Message of the movie? "I’m glad I’m not so rich that someone will kidnap my children."

Money is truly the root of all trivial. I liked Mel Gibson better when he was blue.





(Japanese poetry of 17 syllables, by J. Koke, assembled by P. Proctor)


Pink tender morsel,
glistening with salty gel.
What the hell is it?


Oh tin of pink meat
I ponder what you may be;
snout or ear or feet?


Highly unnatural,
The tortured shape of this "food."
A small pink coffin.


Like some spongy rock,
a granite, my piece of spam
in sunlight on my plate.


The color of Spam
is natural as the sky;
a block of sunrise.


Pink beefy temptress
I can no longer remain


What is more awful
Than the sound of squishing Spam?
A Kenny G tune.


Hannibal Lecter
eats livers, but no pig snouts.
Silence of the Spams.




Hi, I’m Milkum Bosky, the PYST money man with Shortcuts to Big Bucks! Everybody’s trying to figure out a way to get rich off the Internet but so far, there’s nothing but Spam all over the Information highway! And that’s my idea -- offer hungry cyberheads REAL Spam any time they want, served hot or cold or lukewarm right to their front door! Think of it as propeller-head pizza. Spam is cheap and easy to make in your spare time from spare pet parts right in your own apartment, or prison cell. Your average web browser is an isolated, obsessed dork too distracted to step out for a pee, so you’ve got a captive consumer anxious to have a snack slid under their door. And don’t worry what it tastes like; they’re too busy hanging out on some Home Page and getting dirty in MUDS to notice what you put in front of them. This is Milkum Bosky. the PYST money man. I’ll be back next week with the only legal pyramid scheme!

(First one’s free, but you can visit Milkum regularly at the PYST website once you buy a copy!)





A spring in the middle --
A meadow
in the muddle
of the desert.




The graduate with a Science degree asks, "Why does it work?" The graduate with an Engineering degree asks, "How does it work?" The graduate with an Accounting degree asks, "How much will it cost?" The graduate with a Liberal Arts degree asks, "Do you want fries with that?" (This and the following piece are from Wayne "Wackie Mackie" Newitt):





Celebrity marriages that could happen...in a parallel universe,

If Yoko Ono married Sonny Bono, she’d be Yoko Ono Bono.

If Dolly Parton married Salvador Dali, she’d be Dolly Dali.

If Bo Derek married Don Ho, she’d be Bo Ho.

If Oprah Winfrey married Depak Chopra, she’d be Oprah Chopra.

If Cat Stevens married Snoop Doggy Dogg, (hey! it’s the ‘90’s!), he’d be Cat Doggy Dogg.

If Olivia Newton-John married Wayne Newton, then divorced him to marry Elton John, she’d be Olivia Newton-John Newton John.

If Sondra Locke married Elliott Ness, then divorced him to marry Herman Munster, she’d become Sondra Locke Ness Munster.

If Bea Arthur married Sting, she’d be Bea Sting.

If Liv Ullman married Judge Lance Ito, then divorced him and married Jerry Mathers, she’d be Liv Ito Beaver.

If Snoop Doggy Dogg married Winnie the Pooh, he’d be Snoop Doggy Dogg Pooh.

Nog (Quark’s brother on "Star Trek: Deep Space Nine") has no other name, so he uses it twice when getting a marriage license. If he married Howard Hughes, and then Pamela Dare, he’d be Nog Nog Hughes Dare.

If Shirley Jones married Tom Ewell, then Johnny Rotten, then Nathan Hale, she’d be Shirley Ewell Rotten Hale.

If Javier Lopez married Keiko the whale, and Edith Piaf married Rose Tu the elephant, they would be Javier Keiko and Edith Tu.

If Ivana Trump married, in succession, Orson Bean (actor), King Oscar (of Norway), Louis B. Mayer (of MGM), and Norbert Wiener (mathematician), she would then be Ivana Bean Oscar Mayer Wiener.

If Dolly Parton married Tommy Smothers, then went even further back in show business and married Mr. Lucky, then divorced and married Martin Short, then divorced and married football kicker Ray Guy, we could all nod understandingly when we heard, "Dolly Parton Smothers Lucky Short Guy."

And, if Phil Proctor wed the author of "Ragtime", he’d be Proctor Doctorow.




Steve "Mr. Music" Shaw sends this tasty piece from L.M. Boyd’s Book of Odd Facts -- "A Los Angeles librarian reports she finally found it necessary to pick up a gentleman’s library card, because her letters to him, telephone calls, and face-to-face pleas still failed to break him of the peculiar habit of using strips of raw bacon as bookmarks."




I’d rather be following you.

Honk if you are Jesus.

Madness takes its toll. Please have exact change.

Sorry, but my karma just ran over your dogma.

Follow Me To 668: The Neighbor of the Beast.

Writing about music is like dancing about architecture.

When cryptography is outlawed, bayl bhgynjf jvyy unir cevinpl.




(It’s been around before, but it’s good; so thanks to everyone who wants to see it included here. Your Ob’t etc.)

I did not kill my lovely wife
I did not slash her with a knife
I did not bonk her on the head
I did not know that she was dead

I stayed at home that fateful night
I took a cab than took a flight
The bag I had was just for me
My bag! Hey! Leave it be!

When I came home I had a gash
My hand was cut from broken glass
I cut my hand on broken glass
A broken glass did cause that gash

Did you take this person’s life?
Did you do it with a knife?

I did not do it with a knife
I did not, could not kill my wife
I did not do this awful crime
I could not, would not any time

Did you hit her from above?
Did you drop this bloody glove?

I did not do it with a knife
I did not, could not kill my wife
I did not do this awful crime
I could not, would not any time

And now I’m free I can return
To my house for which I yearn
And to my family whom I love
Hey, now I’m free...Gimme back my glove!!!





"There’s so much comedy on television, does that cause comedy in the streets?"
(Dick Cavett)



Boolah, Foolah -- PP’62


Published 11/27/96


© 1996/2002 by Phil Proctor