Spitball Army

– I’m a hag lamb, I’m a bran. [So, that’s where they get bran.]

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– Jesus! I’m a ranked force! [Ranked near the bottom of the list, anyway.]

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…that is to say, those things that we have no earthly idea are insidiously lodged in our brains?

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Anyway, in the other room the TV is on, and the channel is tuned in to the Grammy Awards. I know, I’m a loser, and I said earlier that it would have to take something really special to get me to tune in. In a way, I am kind of glad I did, as I got to hear Kanye West complain about getting rushed off the stage, and how he “owns” the Grammys and all. As if some people only put out records so that they can win awards. If you had heard him “sing” earlier in the evening (I had the pleasure of only having to hear him), you would know that he won’t be winning any awards at Juilliard (if they even give out awards for what he does) or some other such institution that knows what excellence in music really is.

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I sat at one of the tables and looked at the pictures on the wall. There was one panel of rabbits, dead, one of pheasants, also dead, and one panel of dead ducks. The panels were all dark and smoky-looking. There was a cupboard full of liqueur bottles. I looked at them all.

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Bring Binnie Babyies if have them.

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Once the city gets into a bohoy’s syhystem, he loses his ahankering for the cohuntry.

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No, the title of this post doesn’t refer to the band – it’s the Spanish translation of the title of the following song by the fabulous Bell Rays, a little ray of sunlight provided by your friend at Spitball Army headquarters.

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So, being a man of the times, I typed “blessings on your head” into my toolbar, and here is some text from one of the entries that came up:

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Happy New Deed!
Happy New Deer!
Happy New Beer!
Happy New Br’er!
Happy New Brew!

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