OOk Boarding.
Three Big OOks were Free Here. https://web.archive.org/web/20110216220510/http://dansemacabre.art.officelive.com/StoriesFromTheFront.aspx
Then what! defunctus struck and OOks had to be sought elsewhere.
People keep looking for them in that demesne, with their cousins, New Jargon Horrors and Pismith, so here they are below, here
Just to show you can't keep it down Pismith and Psismith rose up again here.
Once upon a time there were three big Ooks that lived in a house in Dubity. Turk Ook was the father, Mama Ook was the mother, and SueLit Ook baby looked like her dad. Each Ook ate a bowl of sausage for breakfast. There were ginger snaps stuck in the side. If you didn’t count the chickens or the occasional gaseous emissions they were quiet ooks, excluding a belch, the first sign.
Mama belched to Turk about his 800 pounds. When he and Sue walked in the park their footprints filled with water and drowned little dogs who were in the park to go PupPote. She defended PupPote, the proverbial dismemberment Pups cause. It was necessary for Mama’s plate, called eeing. Pups eat off Dame’s floor, which is nothing to her since she eats all Ooks and Pups who are slaughtered and served up as remains. There are no special meanings to Remains, PupPote, Park, Ook, etc. It’s a lot to feed an Ook to an Ook. Ooks are like big books. She was the Ook of fame. Turk was feeding Sue to Dame! It boggles the mind that Turk the publisher fed and then was eaten.
The second sign of the Ook is passionate desire. Ma Ook, Dame Belcher or Guapa Pop, she has a lot of names, ate both SueLit and her dad. He had retired from publishing by then to write fairy tale, an 800 pound Ook with a 600 pound Ooklet, Turk married the Guapa Mama for Ook amour. She was his second Ook.
Were you Turk you longed to ook. Were you Dame you longed to ook, although the sense is different, as if a pasty. Little dog PupPotes long to be best sellers in Ook. In this rubble it wasn’t just breakfast they cooked, but lunch pasties, Ham on Rye, and dinner with TV and appliance. Modem in the left, forkem in the right, dinner was never so ooked.
So whatdaya eat when you eat an Ook, broadside big as ham, clerihews, anthologized stew? It’s all a cure what ails. Indigest? Drink milk in your poem. Sleep aid? Hunger? Roast PupPotem in your home. SueLit is a beauty cure. What doesn’t Sue Ook cure? She’s that grape of the huge alone. Had you the bone then the world would be one! One peace, one world, one home! Susan! But where has she gone? That’s what we’re here to show.
2.
The secret came out when a goat tied to Dame Ook’s bumper blabbed. Billy, with his Nanny and their kid went abba daba dab on the bumper. The Dame kept PupPotes too in the back seat. There were little Schnauzers, a Pomeranian, and a Pifawa paperback. Never in the metaverse has this been solved.
To sum up, Mama Ook in a gingerbread house with smoke coming out the top fattened up Turk for the kill. That smoke is the third sign of Ook. When Turk went up it was as big a loss to little dogs as to big Ooks, Turk being the source of all their food. Why would Dame fatten and kill what made her live? On the other hand Mrs. Ook hungered. So she ate some PupPote.
In their warning about Ooks, Ookem!, the goats had said that these things were indigestible. Everyone knows now the mess, the gravy, meat balls on the wall. The beauty of Ookistry is that these tales about Turk and Sue Ook will bring them back.
Three Big OOks were Free Here. https://web.archive.org/web/20110216220510/http://dansemacabre.art.officelive.com/StoriesFromTheFront.aspx
Then what! defunctus struck and OOks had to be sought elsewhere.
People keep looking for them in that demesne, with their cousins, New Jargon Horrors and Pismith, so here they are below, here
Just to show you can't keep it down Pismith and Psismith rose up again here.
Three Big Ooks
Once upon a time there were three big Ooks that lived in a house in Dubity. Turk Ook was the father, Mama Ook was the mother, and SueLit Ook baby looked like her dad. Each Ook ate a bowl of sausage for breakfast. There were ginger snaps stuck in the side. If you didn’t count the chickens or the occasional gaseous emissions they were quiet ooks, excluding a belch, the first sign.
Mama belched to Turk about his 800 pounds. When he and Sue walked in the park their footprints filled with water and drowned little dogs who were in the park to go PupPote. She defended PupPote, the proverbial dismemberment Pups cause. It was necessary for Mama’s plate, called eeing. Pups eat off Dame’s floor, which is nothing to her since she eats all Ooks and Pups who are slaughtered and served up as remains. There are no special meanings to Remains, PupPote, Park, Ook, etc. It’s a lot to feed an Ook to an Ook. Ooks are like big books. She was the Ook of fame. Turk was feeding Sue to Dame! It boggles the mind that Turk the publisher fed and then was eaten.
The second sign of the Ook is passionate desire. Ma Ook, Dame Belcher or Guapa Pop, she has a lot of names, ate both SueLit and her dad. He had retired from publishing by then to write fairy tale, an 800 pound Ook with a 600 pound Ooklet, Turk married the Guapa Mama for Ook amour. She was his second Ook.
Were you Turk you longed to ook. Were you Dame you longed to ook, although the sense is different, as if a pasty. Little dog PupPotes long to be best sellers in Ook. In this rubble it wasn’t just breakfast they cooked, but lunch pasties, Ham on Rye, and dinner with TV and appliance. Modem in the left, forkem in the right, dinner was never so ooked.
So whatdaya eat when you eat an Ook, broadside big as ham, clerihews, anthologized stew? It’s all a cure what ails. Indigest? Drink milk in your poem. Sleep aid? Hunger? Roast PupPotem in your home. SueLit is a beauty cure. What doesn’t Sue Ook cure? She’s that grape of the huge alone. Had you the bone then the world would be one! One peace, one world, one home! Susan! But where has she gone? That’s what we’re here to show.
2.
The secret came out when a goat tied to Dame Ook’s bumper blabbed. Billy, with his Nanny and their kid went abba daba dab on the bumper. The Dame kept PupPotes too in the back seat. There were little Schnauzers, a Pomeranian, and a Pifawa paperback. Never in the metaverse has this been solved.
To sum up, Mama Ook in a gingerbread house with smoke coming out the top fattened up Turk for the kill. That smoke is the third sign of Ook. When Turk went up it was as big a loss to little dogs as to big Ooks, Turk being the source of all their food. Why would Dame fatten and kill what made her live? On the other hand Mrs. Ook hungered. So she ate some PupPote.
In their warning about Ooks, Ookem!, the goats had said that these things were indigestible. Everyone knows now the mess, the gravy, meat balls on the wall. The beauty of Ookistry is that these tales about Turk and Sue Ook will bring them back.
AE Reiff (this was the blurb)
sculpts science fictions, animals and people. Sometimes the sculptures precede the stories, It’s all about patterns clay makes that the brain recognizes. He conducts investigations into the leftist beliefs of Pennsylvania Dutch sects of 18th century Pennsylvania, has twice been a PopTart nominee, sent poems into space in digital bottles (something the lot of us know a little something about), and is generally a surfactant package of biomediated accelerators to feed hydrocarbon degradation. All is indexed at the site Encouragements for Planting. Current ceramic sculptures at Animal Wilderness and examination of the causes of biological extinction at Human Botany Review
[This speech was given for the Trieste Newmontes among the garden statues of La Chiara near Sienna that year.]
Pismth also appeared but was lost:
New Jargon Horrors of the Obesity Wars
There is a hazard to the new World Order greater than those medieval correspondents where every planetary follicle has a human dress. Profound. The sun its heart, kohlrabi its vegetable, gold its mineral, Brussels its city, Guam its country. A woman lay on her side as Europe, her head Logres Britain, a breast in France, a hand in Italy, Byzantium her navel, Caucasus her buttocks, Jerusalem below, then "her Chin / Ore past; and the straight Hellespont between / the Sestos and Abydos of her breasts (Donne, "Love's Progress"). Bogs, barrens, white cliffs, lowlands: buttocks, hands, chin and genitals, the symbolic world maps of (Andrea Bianco, 1436) put Jerusalem at the center of the globe. Faithful to geography, "we love the Centrique part," says Donne (Elegy xviii). "Spherical, like a globe. I could find out countries in her" (Comedy of Errors).
They thought it man, center of the universe before Copernicus, (that once called all in doubt), but a transmodern returns him to the center. A new philosophy replaces evolution with gene experiments, displaces god with immorality (oops, immortality), displaces dignity of rights with alien precedence, clones and worse. To that new world where golden Shiners come, each article would new correspond with its byproduct, to coin urinary speech at Danse Macabre, and should philosophy excrete, and perspiration art, science a gall stone, government blood, new drugs too will roll, new gods with mescaline and DMT, and sex, how many brand names you got? This Ordo odoratum, rolls out obesity to wheel the patient off, still eating of course, since "if they don't eat let them all die." We rely on their consumption for national growth and jobs. Fast food makes them addicts with the food. The new woman of this New Order's ambition is to weigh 1800 pounds. The fetish of obesity porn, diet, drugs and art we know, but not education, which is coming in brain implants, and a literature. We hoped to set LIT right with Ooks and Orks, but who knew you would read this. The text changes from day to day. To quote Shakespeare, there's mud in your eye at the bottom of the frontispage here .
Pismth also appeared but was lost:
More on Pismith
Since last writing Pismith added a “i” to its name, trying to distinguish itself from Psmith, its founder, discoverer. The “i” signifies a healthy addition to its nationhood.
You remember that it was a species discovered by Jergen Psmith at his own expense and effort, but as will happen he was more and more displaced by his creation. You will also remember that Pismith was a being that grew a shell to protect itself from its enemies, who we at this point take simply as a given, though they can be specified later.
Anyway, after it grew the shell the thing didn’t fit, either because it was too small or Pismith grew, which is also likely. This caused the protected inner parts to bulge out unprotected. Dr. Jergen gave his baby anti-diuretic meds to shrink the soft parts back, which worked, but also resulted in severe irritation to the shell lining which affected Pismith’s brain. “Too much, too little, when can we get enough,” Pismith began to rail, partly from the irritant, partly from its own contrary nature. It must not be much fun to be a lab rat.
The upshot was that Pismith began to pee with its mouth. Is this as distasteful to me as it is to you? Yes and no. I take it symbolically and not just as an ordinary confusion of orifice. Pismith became famous for its uric speech, as you know, but it went further and this explains why it changed its name, because it turned its kidney also into a new kind of brain. You could see it coming.
Those unevolved beings who still speak the old way should well suppose this is not an analogy to themselves. For one thing the Pismith has both a peptide mind and a posterior heart. Perhaps you can go biology.com to find out about it.
I’m more interested in why they didn’t have much hair. All of this is beyond dialysis, as it were, but it always helps to explain the freakedness.
Dogmatika 11 Mar 09
New Jargon Horrors of the Obesity Wars
Jargon Psmith derived new art, new species and a new organ in a day. This species, called Psmith, was an anti-diuretic nerd. It grew a carapace to protect its inner parts. Then it overate. Squeezed by this carapace the parts ballooned out. Afraid it would go pop, Psmith took anti-diuretic meds to shrink it back. So Psmith reinvented itself, but shrinking had unintended consequence. It’s was like turning in a bottle of pop at the store. Heightened exposures produced a noir. What’d ye think? Pushee down, pushee back.
New Jargon had hands full of specie and art. Things you cannot dream. Gene sculpted! But it took more uresis than Psmith thought, which engendered The Horrors of the Dessiccate. Perhaps you read it. Flakes of acid crystal lodged in Psmith’s brain.
We admire how urinary speech transformed Psmith’s kidney to a brain. We’ll be digesting that kidney with the gut when Psmith brings up more.
Danse Macabre
issues XXI - LV, will forever depart the ether on 30 Apr 2012.
Microsoft is unilaterally exorcising its OfficeLive platform on that date. In toto.
If you have not yet backed up your published submission(s) to us,
you must do so before the 30th of this month.
{An Indice officiel is forthcoming at our new home,
wherein your work can be referenced by agents, editors,
faculty covens, and other interested parties.}
[At-Choo!]
[At-Choo!]
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