Army of 8

Entries from December 2008

Wear British, Speak Yiddish

December 3, 2008 · Leave a Comment

Once upon a midnight grim, there lived upon a hillside the Cousins Grimm who upon meeting the Yehudim exclaimed: “Gerry, Gerry, Gerry!”  And so sprang the Gerry Springer Show.

On Thanksgiving Day, Gerry (not short for Geriatric, for indeed he was Springier than most spaniels in their prime), the Auteur took Cindee Jacobs and her muse, Mamita Mussolini [for being what Gerry Springier termed a 'cynic' for going on and on about Nader on the eve of the Obama inaugural] to La Madeleine, a veddy French bistro in the heart of Bethesda, amidst very Parisian environs to sup and later, in the words of Liwayway komix, make tsup tsup [Cindee and Herr Maestro Springier that is].

 

Love Among the Ruins or a Fireside Rendezvous with Cathy and Heathcliff

Love Among the Ruins or a Fireside Rendezvous with Cathy and Heathcliff

Such delights awaited us!: tomato basil soupe–so m’m m’m goood, Mamita had to take a buy 2 take one free home to feed the wolves, yes, the ones that raised her as a child.

It was like a scene from Young Frankenstein:

Froederick Frankenstone: “Werewolf?”

Igor: “There wolf!”

Froederick Frankenstone: “Why are you talking like that?”

Igor: “Ah dunno. I thought you wanted me to. “

The secret library of his great-great-great-grandfather the Baron von Frankenstein, where the secrets of reanimating dead tissue were revealed in a book called “How I Did It,”  to Frau Blucker [cue neighing sounds from startled horses] leaving a trail of a smoking cigars, while fiddling with a fiddle to reveal the true nature of her ‘relationship’ with the dead Baron: he was my BOYFRIEND! Yes, this is where we lay our scene and the siege on delish Caesar’s Salad, Strawberries Ratatouille [it had some rats in them], two omelettes [Cindee says I'm an Emotional Eater so I ate an omelette filled with the usual ingredients: guilt, neurosis, and more guilt with a side order of obsessive compulsiveness] , Raspberry limonade, and two French hens.  And that was just breakfast.

 

Sly and the Family Frankenstone

Sly and the Family Frankenstone

 

 

But our dear host, who whined with us, dined us and nearly 69′d me (as Cindee directed us during Principal Photography: Go down on her Gerry, go down on her!) was so dapper!  In Gerry’s own words:

“Wear British, Speak Yiddish.”

A modern adage if there ever was one.  But on your Burberry.  Look as dapper as Gerry.

Phooey.  Eat like food is going out of style that’s what I say.  Eat like you mean it.  Eat like it was your last meal.  Eat before your jaws grow pale and wan like the moon.

And so Dear Readers, I leave you with this message.  On Thanksgiving Day, don’t let the turkeys get you down.

Categories: Uncategorized

Turkey is not just a country near Iraq

December 3, 2008 · Leave a Comment

Once upon a year in America, something afoul happens to fowl who gobble in the name of pilgrims everywhere. But in the words of Malcolm X,

“We didn’t land on Plymouth Rock.

Plymouth Rock landed on us!”

Know what am sayin’?

Me Redskin. Me smoke `em peace pipe. Me no want `em wokum hokum Gozum loco-motion in the ocean. They come and shoo us red folk away and then smoke up dem jive turkeys to celebrate a land that ain’t theirs. But I digress. My name is Jive. Jive Turkey.

if you sneak a peek up the cervix you'll see some broccoli.  Cubby Broccoli.

Brother Malcolm was right. The only turkeys we folks can deal with are jive turkeys. That’s what’s up!

Categories: Uncategorized