Category: satire

Lady Margo Doesn’t Die (‘Oy, Rodney’)

Posted By: leeduigonPosted On:

Making fun of romance novels. Genius! | Book humor, Romance novels ...

Introducing Chapter CCCLXXI of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney, Violet Crepuscular takes aim at her printer, a man named Baskett.

“Everybody in the world thinks he or she can write an epic romance!” she declares. “That includes one Hieronymus Baskett of Popeye’s Print Shop.

“As I wrote the chapter, Lady Margo Cargo dies from a placebo overdose that dissolves her coccyx. This is the sort of thing that tinges a romance with bittersweet realism–kind of like one of those good old Hallmark TV specials in which a lovable, plucky celebrity dies of an incurable disease. You’d think this would have given me a crack at a Pulitzer, but no! Mr. I-Know-All-About-Literature Baskett refused to print the chapter unless I spared Lady Margo’s life. He actually accused me of murder!”

And so in Take Two of Chapter CCCLXXI, Lady Margo does not die, but enjoys a complete recovery from her psychosomatic, subcutaneous (Violet’s word, not mine) affliction and Dr. Fanabla receives a medal from the Queen. Lady Margo’s fiances, Lord Jeremy Coldsore and his friend, the American adventurer Willis Twombley, are quite pleased. Now the wedding can go forward as planned.

“If that’s the kind of syrupy pap the readers want, so be it,” writes Ms. Crepuscular. “I had hopes of turning this into one of those dark and serious Russian novels, but couldn’t get past the obstacle of Popeye’s Print Shop. I even had a Count Kissoff ready to step into the plot as a man who wants to buy Coldsore Hall and turn it into an anarchists’ club. Alas! It seems everyone’s allowed to write Serious Mainstream Literature but me.”

We shall see if Oy, Rodney can continue in spite of this setback.

 

Cardiff Giant Comes Back to Life!

Posted By: leeduigonPosted On:

Cardiff Giant, Cooperstown, New York

This Just In: Long thought to be a 19th century hoax, the Cardiff Giant last night came to life, broke down the museum where he was on display, and made a beeline for the upstate New York town of Hsiao Chiang. There he broke down the doors of the WBSS Radio studio and commandeered the microphone.

Ten feet tall and completely petrified, the Giant proved immune to police bullets, tasers, and tear gas. His efforts to clear his throat destroyed the station manager’s office. But eventually he made himself heard.

“Attention! This is the Cardiff Giant speaking to you! My head is solid stone! I demand that you elect me president. If you don’t, I will destroy you.”

It is not known whether the Giant is available for interviews. He has pledged himself to “chase out of America” any persons who disagree with him about any subject.

The Democrat Party has endorsed him.

Yiu Has To Maik Peeple Say Rihght Things!!!

Posted By: leeduigonPosted On:

The Blanquist: On Grover Furr and the Moscow Trials

Yiu know,, i nevver Useta think Histry it was “good” “for” anny thing butt nhow I “know” Bettur!!! Heer at Collidge we has jist figgred Out “that” it aynt Enugh to Not Alouw Hat Speach–yiu has to maik peeple say The Rihght Things eevin iff “thay” doughnt Want To!!!!

Thay had tryals in Russha a fiew Yeers Agoe and maid Evvry boddy admitt “that” thay done all Bad Things evin thoehgh thay Didnt and gess watt?? Peeple didnt Dare “say” Bad Things no moar!!! And lyfe in Russha it was byootafull!!!!!

Wel we cood D”o” that heer coodnt we!?! Maik peeple has to say Good Things!! We gotted The Idear fromb Younavercitty of Illannnoy,, thay maid “alll” the Conserfatiff Bad Peeple say thay luv Blaque Lyves Mater and iff thay didnt Say “it” thay wood get Expellt!!!!!!!! Thay aslo maid themb Say Amairaca it is No Good and Racist—wel that reely ficksted themb!!!!!

So heer at our Collidge fromb nhow On “we” are goingto Maik evry boddy say All The Things we “say” “In” the Stoodint Soviet and iff thay woont say “themb” thenn thay whill has to be in Censativvaty Traning and then get Kickked Out “of” collidge fore Goo”d”!! And affter a wile thay “wil” Get Useto saying Alll “thoze” things and thay whil jist say themb “all The time” whith-Out evin thincking abuot it and at Collidge it wil Be jist as Nice as The Soviet Yunion!!!!

‘Feminist Political Ecology, the Key to All Knowledge’ (2016)

Posted By: leeduigonPosted On:

See the source image

It’s hard to believe anyone consents to pay for this.

Y’know, there are times when it doesn’t seem like half enough merely to defund the colleges and universities. We begin to think more along the lines of tearing down, bulldozing, and sowing the ground with salt.

Feminist Political Ecology, the Key to All Knowledge

“Feminist political ecology”–what the devil is it, other than 100% pure crapola? This is what you’re getting for your tuition money?

Let’s hope you didn’t have to work too hard for it.

So Tired of the Nooze

Posted By: leeduigonPosted On:

Home • MotorMouth Ent.

There are, like, 150 nooze stories confronting me today, each of them chattering a demand to be covered. Which ones do I write about?

What about these items, for instance:

*Joe Biden picks himself as his running mate and calls it “two for the price of one–or one for the price of two.”

*After declaring all the statutes null and void because of systemic racism, the state of New York reports an official crime rate of zero percent.

*A new study shows that eating books is good for you.

*The governor of Michigan has accidentally mandated herself to death.

*Matzi Bustoff’s “Silent Symphony,” in which no musical instruments are played, opens to a packed house at Lincoln Center. It receives silent applause.

I dunno… I just can’t choose.

Lady Margo’s Affliction (‘Oy, Rodney’)

Posted By: leeduigonPosted On:

Making fun of romance novels. Genius! | Book humor, Romance novels ...

Now that our internet problems seem to have been fixed, Violet Crepuscular can introduce Chapter CCCLXX of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney.

“With all the excitement over the capture of Sir Robin Banks, the aristocratic thief, dear reader,” she writes, “it would be easy to overlook another kind of excitement at Lady Margo Cargo’s luxurious country house. We join her and Dr. Fanabla as the doctor concludes his examination.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” says the doctor. The crusty old butler, Crusty, chimes in: “Nothing wrong with her that a new head couldn’t cure!”

“You’re testing for the wrong ailments,” declares Lady Margo. “I shouldn’t have to tell a doctor what’s wrong we me, but here it seems I do. I have a severe case of bryophobia!”

The doctor is nonplussed. “Fear of… moss?” he wonders.

“An inordinate, passionate, crippling fear of moss!” cries the patient. Behind her, Crusty makes a face indicative of mockery, and also a well-known gesture expressing doubt as to his employer’s sanity.

“Have you seen the north side of my house, doctor?” she exclaims. “It’s moss everywhere you look! And on the trees, and in the cracks along the sidewalk, too! Thick, green, awful moss! How am I supposed to even contemplate marriage, with moss just lurking everywhere?”

The doctor attempts to change the subject. “Have you decided which one you’re going to marry–Lord Jeremy or the American adventurer, Willis Twombley, who thinks he’s Sargon of Akkad?”

“They’re the same person, doctor!” Now it’s the doctor’s turn to make that well-known gesture.

“You might as well put her down, doctor,” says Crusty. “She’s as crazy as a bedbug.” “I think we have them, too!” Lady Margo mutters.

“How about I prescribe for you a nice placebo?” asks the doctor.

But Lady Margo is allergic to placebos.

Here the chapter ends, to heighten the already well-nigh unbearable suspense.

We Has Ficksed our Pressadint Obomma Statchoo!!

Posted By: leeduigonPosted On:

How to make play dough faces - Kidspot

Heer “at” our Collidge we has bin tearrably Up-Set evir Sints “we” axadently puled down “our” Statchoo of Pressadint Obomma and then his Hed it fell offf!!!!!!! And evry tyme we tryed “to” gloo it back On it falled offf Agan!!! And then fynly it falled off and Broak in peeces!!!!!!

We werr Saposed “to” maik a Hyumin Sackrafeice to Pressadint Obomma “so” he woodnt “Get” mad and putt a Cursse “on” us butt No One volinteered and evry one we Picked thay runned Away!!! We kepped Trying To sackryce somb boddy,, anny boddy,, butt In The Meen Time a memmber Of “our” Stoodint Soviet xe hased a Brilllyint Idear!!!!!!!!!!

Wye doughnt “we maik a niew Hed “out” Of Play-Doh and putt “that” On “the” Statchoo???”? Xe is a jeaniass!!! So wee Got our “bessed” Art Stoodint and he maid A “moddle” witch yiu can Sea “in” The pitchture Up top!!! Alll we kneaded “to” “do” was get A Hole Buntch of Play-Doh and role It “into” a big Bawll and thenn puit Eyes & Mowth & Knose on it jist lyke In the pitchture!!! And we Maid It mutch Bigger then the Orginul so Pressadint Obomma wood reely lyke It and thend We Jist Stuck It On the Statchoo and it “was” purfict!!!!!!

Well!!! that it is A Lode offf our meynds!!!! We got It ficksted beefour the Korny Vyris it cood wype us Out!!! Nhow we “can” Go “back” to fillossafie and stuph!!!!

Children’s Letters to Ms. Violet

Posted By: leeduigonPosted On:

Making fun of romance novels. Genius! | Book humor, Romance novels ...

Due to circumstances entirely beyond our control, we were unable to present our weekly update of Violent Crepuscular’s epic romance, Oy, Rodney. Ms. Crepuscular has contacted us and rebuked us with what she has described as “an avalanche of an outpouring of support from the children of the world.” We did not know children were reading Oy, Rodney.

Here are three quotes from three letters. They are intended to make me feel guilty.

From Daisy Hokus, Brzwirdzjeczow, Eastern Europe: “My daddy is sad all the time, but when he reads Oy Rodney he is happy and runs all over the house singing and dancing. You must write more Oy Rodney to make him happy. I am 3 years old.”

From Randy Pokus, Ongs Hat, New Jersey: “Our teacher Ms. Typhus yells at us all the time and makes us scared only when she reads Oy Roddny by Vilet Crepustular she doesn’t yell at us anymore she just giggles!”

From Hector Vechter, Harpoon Harbor, Alaska: “Our family is very poor and when winter comes we have to sleep outside because nobody likes us but when we have some Oy Rodney to read it is better than food, better than warm clothes, so you can just imagine how deprived we felt when we didn’t get any.”

There is, says Ms. Crepuscular, “a whole wheelbarrowful of these letters” and I had better just watch out or the world’s children will be coming after me with pitchforks and torches.

Meanwhile, the literary agent who first discovered her has been put to death by the literary agents’ guild.

Wor ‘On” Witeniss!!!

Posted By: leeduigonPosted On:

Rodin,-The-Thinker - VMFA Press Room

If hes so Smart how come he got no clotheses on?

We hased a meating of the Stoodint Soviet and we “are” goingto Wor!!!!! Wor on Witeniss! We are goingto “maik” Rooles aginst all themb things “that” “are” part of beeing Wite!!!

So fromb nhow “on” heer at Collidge,, we are goingto Get Ridd “of” Rashinull Thawt and Harred Whork and Intacked Famblies watever thay “are!!!”! Becose themb are al prat of beeing Wite and that maikes “themb” Racist!!!!

It “is” goingto to-be Harred to brake freee of Rashinull Thawt but somb “of” us thay are all-reddy thare!!!!! We are goingto Re-Plaice it with Un-Rashinull Thawt and anny boddy whoo is still Rashinull thay wil get beet Up and then has to go for Sensertivy Traning!!!

We all-reddy gotted Rid Of harred whork wen we brawt in Nothing Studdies!!!

As as four Famblies, fromb nhow On yiu cant has a Fambly and iff yiu say yiu do that meens Yiu Are A Racist!!!

We are stil Trying “to” ficks Pressadint Obommba’s Statchoo that we axadently pullled Down “and” broak “the” hedd offf it!!!

Twiddles, the Mud Puppy (‘Oy, Rodney’)

Posted By: leeduigonPosted On:

Making fun of romance novels. Genius! | Book humor, Romance novels ...

Introducing Chapter CCCLXIX of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney, Violet Crepuscular deplores the actions of a Scurveyshire mob bursting into Coldsore Hall in pursuit of Sir Robin Banks, the aristocratic thief. “I deplore the actions of the mob,” she confides in the reader, “but I have no choice but to tell the story as it unfolds.”

Lord Jeremy Coldsore and his boon companion, Willis Twombley, the American adventurer who think he’s Sargon of Akkad, can only stand helplessly by as the mob rampages throughout luxurious, ancient, legendary Coldsore Hall. By and by they grow weary of standing helplessly by, and begin to visit some of the rooms through which the mob has passed. In doing this, they discover Wet Willy, an aged footman who has been secretly living in the hall for decades.

“Didn’t my father dismiss you some thirty years ago?” demands Jeremy.

“He did,” says Willy, “but I could hardly leave poor Twiddles to fend for himself, could I?”

Jeremy recoils in horror from the sight of Twiddles, a large Canadian mud puppy. WordPress recoils in horror from showing a picture of it. Suffice it to say it’s a very large salamander with external gills, red and bushy, and a ferocious temper which moves it to snap viciously at the nearest hand.

“Ain’t he cute?” says Willis.

“You’ve been here–with this… creature–all this time?” marvels Lord Jeremy. “What have you been eating?”

“Mostly Wheaties,” confesses the aged footman. “I sneak into the kitchen in the dead of night and steal them.”

Just then they are interrupted by a lusty roar from the mob: they have captured the aristocratic thief.

Here the chapter breaks, owing to computer problems.

The misunderstood mudpuppy - MSU Extension

(Got it in after all–I think.)