I once saw a hobo get hit by
a Jeep and bleed out in front of a
downtown Carl’s Jr.
The air, I remember, smelled of
urine and Seagram’s and keg beer and
frat boy panic —
—While for my part, I smelled of large fries
and Diet Coke and jalapeno burger.
Not that you asked.
If anybody needs me I’ll be selling blood. And my eggs.
It was obviously Carl’s fault for maintaining an attractive nuisance.
You make more going the plasma-whore routine.
Steadier work, too.
Hope ya’ll are well.
Shut up! I don’t know why that’s so friggin’ funny, but it is. You are the best, Jeff.
Hey!
Does this mean that you’re back? You weren’t gone long enough for me to miss you (that much). Welcome back!
tw: Still crazy after all these hours.
times like that, i’m glad i don’t have much of a sense of smell. when i can’t tell the milk’s gone bad? not so much.
I hope Jeep, Carl’s Junior, Seagram’s and Coke ad execs are reading your verse. They should cut some big time checks for prime product placement in a PW Poem, if nothing else. It should just about offset the lawsuits from the hobos, blood donors, urologists, university fraternity alumni, keggers unions and members of the saturated fat lobby.
What are you asking for the eggs? I’ve got a gene splicing project I’ve been meaning to get around to.
Do those eggs have little ABC logos on them?
‘Cause if they do, no thanks.
Okay, I’m going to sound like an ignoramus, but could someone clue me in? I hadn’t checked PW in a few days, and now I see the “Yeah, it ain’t worth it” post, which implies that our favorite psycho professor has initiated some kind of legal action. But I don’t see any previous posts that explains what’s going on.
So help me out here. What’s going on? (Or point me to another blog that explains it.)
Thanks!
OMFG.
Frank O’Hara is rollin’ over in Kenneth Koch’s grave.
It’s Hardee’s.
[Air fist!]
True. And that was rude of me. I apologize. Also, I condemn.
I agree. It’s impossible to figure out what the reason for the legal expenses is, or if Jeff’s son was physically injured in an accident.
I’m perplexed.
Splashman,
You have to go back to Thurs. She went off again.
Also she showed up on the over 300 comments thread.
Also using sock puppets here & elswhere.
also she doesn’t like a blog called donthiredeb.blogspot.com
TW:ASK
and ye shall receive
Sorry about the typos.
What does fratboy panic,
smell like?
Old PBR?
Cheap cigars?
Warm may evenings,
a test on monday.
Cheerleader wannabes.
Stale vomit.
A road trip.
I’m pregnant.
I once saw a Philly hobo get hit by a car on the corner of Diamond and Broad on the way to class at 8:20 in the morning. Not pleasant. A sickening sound. Poor guy.
tw: That ain’t no sh*t, son.
and my first reaction was, “ a hobo going to class at 8:30? Must have been a freshman.”
I never saw a hobo hit,
I never hope to see one
For I can live it vividly
via Protein Wisdom
I sent money. Where’s my eggs.
I never saw a hobo hit,
I never hope to see one
For I can live it vividly
via Protein Wisdom
I sent money. Where’s my eggs.
Hobos usually get the early classes.
Not sure, but it may have something to do with affirmative action.
TW: It’s the system.
Praying things go well for you, Jeff. I’ll try to drop you some moolah later this week. I’ve been a bit pinched lately myself, but you know, silver coins and gold purses and all.
tw: faith is the evidence of things unseen & the substance of things hoped for.
wahahaha. Ok somehow my name got truncated. I blame firefox’s autocomplete feature, or maybe user error. Whichever user that is…
Anyway, I’ve got loads of flash work to do. Can’t stay around!
tw: fine, as in what kind of paste my mind has become…
There are a million stories in the naked city. Many contain, in one form or another, some reference to booze.
There’s nothing in the poem that says where it happened. It could have been in California, y’know.
Splashman
For a good roundup, including screenshots, of “Dr” Demented Deb’s latest psychotic break, see Patterico’s post.
I always smell gasoline when hobos get hit at that Carl’s Jr. It’s in a Shell station. I hate buying burgers at gas stations, especially with that hobo ambiance going on.
Since this seems to be Limerick Sunday,
here’s mine;
There once was a lawyer named Scooter,
Who spied a spook’s spouse as a looter
He got caught in a trap
Agreed he would yap
And fingered his boss as the shooter.
There once was a troll delusional
Whose world view was often contusional
She’ll still expect Fitzmas
Until charges are dismissed
And her recriminations will be effusional.
Oh, and BTW Semi, what the FUCK made you delude yourself there were limericks in this thread before you crapped in it?
McGee;
I simply made the same decision everyone else did.
To say, WETFIWTS. Just like you.
BTW;
Yours is off-meter
Maybe, but truth is a defense.
Oh, and “whatever” is one word, not two.
I really don’t think that is very funny. You’re giving all of us Republicans a bad name by your sometimes questionable behavior.
Can’t you just cool it for a few months? And BTW, get a job.
I’m capable of giving myself a bad name. I never asked for help. Which probably accounts for the unevenly spaced posts on my deck, among other things.
This is a Republican blog? Fuck that, I’m outta here.
I thought this was a secret lair for those who can name the secret names of BAAL with secret decoder rings.
Get back in the pool, B Moe! This blog is Classical Liberal, a now seemingly rare frame of reference in the ever shrill ululations eminating from the left and right. Of course you already knew that, did’t you, silly?
R on A: Shhhhhhh…
Never know who might be listening in the audience.
Huevos Rancheros, please. Wheat toast.
And can I get a side of bacon with that?
SB: southern
breakfast
Republican on Acid –
Be sure to check your sofa cushions.
TW: Today’s name is: Pottery Barn, 100% linen.
A jalapeno burger? Oh, the humanity.
Crazytown eh?
MUAHAHAHAHAHA!
Republican on Acid –
What happens when they smoke DMT?
They cane hobo’s while peaking for the extra rush and then when the 5th dimension dematerializes they realize the lunch break is over and go back to work as accountants.
Craziness.
TW: “works”. As in, whatever works, legally speaking.
It’s BOTH. LMAO. Just like it’s Hellman’s east of the Rockies.
Ah well that lady never needed anything to help her out in that department.
Crazy is easy with Frisch Easy Baked Crazy…
She at this point has bought into the idea that her reality is not a reality any longer. So desperate with fear and hate and a logical disconnect from her spiritual and cultural needs that she is literally set adrift on a sea of complete insanity.
Not only does she project, but she also harbors some obviously weird desire, a deep seated desire, to return to that harbor that she detached herself from so many years ago.
I see her kind everywhere. Her symptom is a symptom of many. Those that believe their “educators” realities. It is a very twisted religion these days. Politics have finally become a true identity for many and frankly, I find that somewhat sad.
No fun at the Frisch fry… ever. Fun is not allowed. Fun is wrong. Viva the cretin-o-lution!
Sorry for that. I am coming down now..
Hey! If I buy eggs will the Easter ‘dillo hide ‘em in my yard?
For what it’s worth, I’m not a Republican. Not a Dimocrat either, so I’m not embarrassing anyone but myself, thank you very much!
TW: It’s probably a lack of proper potty training (and not on my part, if you catch my drift)!
If Oragami is the artful of folding of paper, then it must be that Oregonzo is the art of folding hobos with Jeeps. With optional urination, it becomes perfomance art.
Cheez! And there I go with the psychobabble again. Speaking of which, where is that crazy little.. person? Sleeping it off? Gone Frisching for attention elsewhere? I mean! A day without Deb is like a day without hemorrhoids. You know, the big, octopus hangin’ out your butt kind.
C’mon Deb, lay one on us. You know you want to.
TW: If you just happened to be passing by, that is.
swenn, she visited sean m. this morning.
I always thought that was folding up trolls while they made funny squeaking noises.
Regular trolls, now, not your Dr. Demented off the Richter scale kind of nuttiness.
We HAVE to come up with a new name for her and her ilk.
MK, the “she” now claims to frequent comedy clubs doing her own version of stand up on her blog. Oh the humanity!
That is hysterical. You are really funny. I can see why people spend their free time reading about you.
A dead hobo bleeds out reeking of alcohol and you reek of fries.
Pretty funny, tweaker man.
Got meth?
Is that a clue?
Balrog?
Speak for yourself, Phyllis Schlafly.
you should call us rabid moonbats, you dumbphuque rightwing nutcases.
Jeff’s a tweaker, you know. You wouldn’t write the crap he writes if you weren’t doing meth or something like it.
Trust me, I’m a mental health professional.
turing word: europe
europe is getting tighter and tighter, armadillo man.
time to say bye-bye to protein wisdom and the count.
why do i get the feeling we’re in the presence of greatness yet again?
Mags – But can he/she put that too music?
TW: Lets all party down. TOGAAAA!!!!!
Waga Kaapu no
pinchi mo
nanika shiawase na
Kibun de miori
kimi ni motarete.
… except I’m a Giants fan.
– This is all a conspiracy, and I am not this Greenwald person, whom I can assure you, I only know through his brilliant writing and top flight law practice.
…….
What?
…..
The banjo belongs to my brother…
…….
He lets me use it…
…….
Alright. that’s it. I don’t have to stand here and take this abuse. Good day to you Sir!
you take that back Charlie!!!!
okay, yeah, i don’t care for baseball.
Hey Jeff, here is a link to an article about a Marine who is doing an awesome job in Iraq. I mention this because it looks to me like he grew up in the same neck of the woods as you. (meaning somewhere in Colorado)
Anyway, it’s a good article.
US Marine in Iraq
I just checked the link I provided and it seemed to be bad for some reason.
The article is called “USMC sniper metes out swift death in Iraq”
It is on Yahoo news.
Here is the web address:
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20060730/ap_on_re_mi_ea/iraq_the_marksman;_ylt=As1i3HOAutq2TrgoN23vYjpn.3QA;_ylu=X3oDMTA4NTMzazIyBHNlYwMxNjk2
Trust me, I’m a mental health professional.
Well, if that don’t beat all. Say, you want we should hook you up with this crazy white “keepin’ it real” lezbian in Eugene, Oregon? She’s a little off-kilter and could use your services. On a pro bono basis, I’m sure. Or do you mental health professionals do that?
TW: she. As in ”She bop, he bop, a-we bop, I bop, you bop, a-they bop…”
OK, I’m sorry if my link screwed up the formating of this page. I’m an idiot. I’m quiting now.
AND I CONDEMN MYSELF!!!
I am a bad boy, I simply cannot get enough. Here’s some quality vintage Frisch from last year. The thread is hilarious.
DaYamn! I believe we’ve conjerred up a lurking web orc!
TW: Tweeker? Armadillo man? C’mon Krazy Kat surely a <s>dangling hemorrhoid</s> mental health professional can do better than that! You get extra points for creativity and style you know.
Okay, so <s>strike-outs</s> don’t work. I knew that.
For what it’s worth Sven, I just tried to take text that had been “struckout” from a MS Word docuemnt. No such luck. When I pasted it, the text showed up in the comment section, but the strikeout was gone.
Don’t bother thanking me. I waste time so you don’t have to.
The heavenly aroma of pistachios?
I vote for ogre/ogress or yog-sogoth (or something else equally Lovecraftian)
TW: thinking…
Speaking of Dr. Demento:
TW: Always preview!
I am shaking my head, again, still, etc. This is a strange person. I realize that those on the left who are left with no rational argument (it’s common, yes) tend to wander off into the realm of ad hominem attacks, but you don’t see stupidity on this scale very often.
Wow.
How about Frisch Gras. Just replace the Fois with Frisch. You can make whatever connection to it you want.
TW: my thoughts on it are NSFW.
Hmm.. My apologies, that wasn’t very nice, even by my low standards. What I get for swilling jug wine all afternoon.
The Dementosphere?
Debocrats?
Or something more PC, like: Socially Challenged?
Personally, I like: The Psychosphere.
I like “Dementosphere”. Another possibility is “psychomorass”.
From her own posts on that link, Frischwitch admits to having been fired from U of Oregon too. She’s been at this sort of behavior for awhile now. Asocial sociapath? Maybe its a fortunate thing that she’s escaped to the woods in Eugene.
– That was me. Forgot to take the sock off my head….
It looks good, Green is definitely your color!
variations on a theme: The “an ordinary clock glimpsed in its moment of brief existential oppressed workers angst†post (from the protein wisdom conceptual series)
tic
tic
tic
tic
tic
Crappola… toc’s late again for his shift. Fuck this. $5.36 an hour won’t buy dick. I need a cold one and time to think about the coming revolution. I’m outta here….
…
…
…
…
…
To clocks, each hour is a revolution.
TW: Red is the color of revolution…okay, the second hand too.
Interesting that the Frischevik is calling herself “krazy kat.” Some may be too young to remember, but Krazy Kat’s idea of being flirted with, was to be hit in the head with a brick.
So, it’s no wonder she keeps coming back here.
In order to be a “professional” doesn’t one need to be employed?
Ah…being in a funny farm or about to be in a funny farm doesn’t qualify a person as a mental health professional…
what is it about poems
concerning itinerants?
what’s that in the road?
Harrison was right. Selling yer plasma is steadier money.
How the fuck big are your feet?!
Sven and EFG,
Strikeouts work
jes’ fineperfectly, but you have to spell out the tag; it’sand. <s> won’t do it. Neither will cut-and-paste from Microsoft Word [shudder].Regards,
Ric
How very interesting. I used the correct syntax for < and &rt;, but the preview converted them to < and &rt;—then read them as the tags I was trying to avoid!
<strike> and </strike> are the needed tags for strikethrough.
Regards,
Ric
Rob – Different “head”….but still maybe it was a good question anyway…’Member, you have to have your hands free to hold the banjo….
You know what the best thing is about a large pepperoni pizza? Once you’re done eating all the pizza you can, the remaining, uneaten slices needn’t go to waste, as you can simply pick the pepperonis off them to eat individually.
well, Deb, ya got the ‘krazy’ part right.
Notice how Deb prowls her favorite haunts in the late afternoon/early evening?
Now, Count Dracula is obviously out as a nickname because in her coprolalia she has already co-opted an analog. But a vampiric name would be fitting.
Deblock?
Nosfrischatu?
Barfrisch?
Yulian Bodebscu?
Ah, hell. The best epiphet would be the name her parents gave her. No one need attach a nickname to Hannibal Lecter, Ted Bundy, Joseph Stalin, or Don Knotts for their reputations to live in infamy.
Maybe we are all wrong. Maybe she is just having a major manic episode. I got 10 bucks says she suffers from untreated manic/depressive disorder. It would definately explain the lucid stages and the raging lunatic stages she seems to be going through. Especially since it seems to have progressed clinically over the last 19 months…as evidenced by the increased appearances and growing paranioa of her postings over that time. All the more reason to take extra precautions Jeff.
TW: When are the EPD ging to show up and take her on that orange jumpsuit vacation?
That’s it!
tw: hours spent running in horror from that bitch down in Moria.
My belief is that you have to get paid for your services to be called a professional. Therefore our balrog is undoubtedly lying, unless she has become a paid subject in some sort of mental health gone awry research. I suppose that would be a mental health professional of a certain sort.
Hmmmm. A related thought. If she can get government support for herself due to her problems (she might qualify for Social Security disability payments, for example) does *that* make her a mental health professional? Being paid for being crazy?
Psychosphere is good. Gonzodrome?
I was right about the vampiric behaviour. Deb’s ”goin’ fishin’” at twilight.
Wonder what that means? Given that at this time of night she’s usually expressing her lunacy through a keyboard, I shudder to think what she’ll do out in the real world.