Tag: general silliness

Violet Wins an Award! REPRINT

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🤩 Suspenders For Women: How To Wear? [Female Outfits, Tips] 2022🤩

From August 1, 2022

Violet Crepuscular, author of the epic romance Oy, Rodney and self-anointed “Queen of Suspense,” now has a real title to hang on her wall.The Brmytsov suspender factory in Vorozhnyrmytz, Kazakhstan, has honored her as “Queen of Suspenders.” [Note: the model in the pictures is not Ms. Crepuscular.]

Ms. Crepuscular has declined to comment, although neighbors say they have heard her “yelling and breaking things.” “Queen of suspense, not suspenders!” she has reportedly exclaimed. “I don’t even wear suspenders!” [Lewd expletives deleted.]

A dinner will be held in Ms. Crepuscular’s honor at the Restaurant of Tasty Joy, on the skirts of Myzhnytskquoe Mountain.

A Few Products That Didn’t Quite Make It REPRINT

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 From August 16, 2016

I know it’s too early to be talking Christmas shopping. But there are always birthdays, anniversaries, and other occasions for buying presents for your loved ones.

Here are a few gift ideas that never really caught on.

The Fire Ant Farm. This was just like a regular ant farm, only with ferocious and painfully-stinging fire ants. It was supposed to make the owner look cool. They had to take it off the market because the ants kept getting out and raising hell.

A Special Beer Stein for Weight-Lifters had a 20-pound weight fixed to the bottom so that every time you took a swig of beer, you got your exercise. I’m not sure how this product came to fail. I think it was because sometimes bad things happened if you chanced to drop it.

Toothpaste Sandwich Cookies. If you were afraid that Oreos, for instance, would cause you to develop cavities, replacing the vanilla cream filling with a popular brand of toothpaste was supposed to allow you to enjoy your snack while at the same time passively brushing your teeth. Alas, the taste and the digestion became issues.

Sticky-Soled Shoes. The idea behind these was to let you pick up and remove dirt, dust, and pet hairs from your carpet without having to vacuum. Just walk around as usual, and at the end of the day, simply remove the detritus from the bottoms of your shoes. I am sorry to say they made these shoes way, way, way too sticky, with unfortunate results (including injury to the wearer when he tried to take a step but the shoe wouldn’t budge). Sort of like the classic practical joke of gluing someone’s flip-flops to the floor. Worse, some ill-advised customers attempted to use Sticky Shoes as a way to climb up walls, again resulting in injury.

So there you have it. These products aren’t on the market anymore, but there are probably others just as bad. Let the buyer beware.

 

Violet Crepuscular’s Mail Bag REPRINT

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silly romance novels – Lee Duigon

From December 5, 2021

Taking a break from the narrative of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney, Violet Crepuscular finds time to read and share this year’s fan letter.

“This is from a Mrs. Citronella Jingles in Brushback, New Jersey. I looked it up, and there really is no such places!” impermeates Ms. Crepuscular. (I am not sure about that word.) “And she writes, ‘Why don’t the men persons in your romance go around with no shirts on like the men persons in all the other romances?’

“Well, Citronella,” Violet replies, “if you ever saw my neighbor, Mr. Pitfall, with no shirt on, it’d put you off the whole business for months. Yew! A horrible sight! Yeah, okay, it’d be nice if the men we see had those completely hairless torsos bulging with muscles–but then no one would bother to read romance novels if real life was like that!”

Privately, I don’t think she knows what to do. Having brought in both a hydra and a jackalope, and handed out injuries and conniptions galore, not to mention property damage–all she needs now is Godzilla.

“All I need now is Godzilla!” she confides in the reader. “The don’t call me the Queen of Suspense for nothing! I defy you to name another romance writer who dares to bring monsters into the plot! Like, who can be bothered with men with no shirts when a jackalope is gobbling up your garden?”

I believe she has escaped having to write Chapter CDLVI.

REPRINT Fantasy by Y.B. Sane Already Rated Best of 21st Century

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From February 5, 2015

New York Times best-selling author Y.B. Sane has done it again: his newest Young Adults fantasy, The Spiritual Spirits, is a triumph.

Join Rubella, the 9-year-old Invincible Female Warrior, as she slashes and thrusts and kung-fus her way through rank after rank of able-bodied adult male bad guys in her quest to save the world called Oith from sure destruction.

And if that weren’t enough, the publishers, Coldsore Books, have provided a game and contests accessible via a special website you can find out about after you buy a copy of The Spiritual Spirits. You can also, on the website, discover your own Spiritual Magic Number, which will prevent anything  bad from ever happening to you.

But it’s the story that’s really compelling. An evil conspiracy called The Choich has vowed to conquer all Oith and then destroy it. Their first attack wiped out all but scattered opposition. These few brave souls have rallied around the wise, loveable sorceress, Genderama, and, guided by her loveable wisdom, have identified the young Rubella as a spiritual powerhouse able to give the Choich a dose of its own medicine.

We especially marveled at her many rescues of her 21-year-old male soul-mate, Loola, whose penchant for swooning makes him easy prey for the enemy. However, Loola is able to tap into the Power of the Earth Spirit–but to tell you any more would be to spoil it.

The American Library Assn. has already named The Spiritual Spirits one of its Top Ten Young Adult Fiction Novels of the millenium.

Is ‘The Lying Tart’ Haunted? REPRINT

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From March 1, 2020

Forget Chapter CCCXLVII. I already have.

In Chapter CCCXLVIII of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney, Violet Crespuscular takes us to Scurveyshire’s favorite tavern, The Lying Tart, which is said to have acquired a resident ghost. It has been seen by many patrons while availing themselves of the tavern’s commodious outdoor facilities (“I cannot bring myself to write the word ‘outhouse,'” Ms. Crepuscular confesses).

The apparition takes the form of a headless lady in a flowing white gown , sometimes accompanied by a huge black dog named Chips. She has been seen walking between the tavern and the stables, parading back and forth along the edge of the roof, or skipping directly toward the observer, carrying her head like a basketball. The game of basketball has not yet been invented. She always vanishes just before getting close enough to grab you.

Constable Chumley investigates. His report is grim. “Thy flivven craiths yon cocksie fairn,” he reports grimly. Lord Jeremy Coldsore, justice of the peace, takes notes.

“What’s he sayin’, ol’ hoss?” wonders the American adventurer, Willis Twombley.

“He says she doesn’t have a coccyx,” Jeremy translates. “That’s bad!” mutters Twombley.

Trade at The Lying Tart has begun to fall off, threatening the shire’s economy. It is widely believed that The Lady in White is looking for company. No one wants to be that company.

“This is the work of Black Rodney,” opines Johnno the Merry Minstrel, who is somewhat merrier now that his gizzard has grown back. His opinion is confirmed by the discovery of several cuss-bags in the landlord’s stock of ale. The landlord has tried to cut his losses by offering free beer to the first customer who succeeds in having a conversation with the ghost.

Here Ms. Crepuscular breaks in with a recipe for toothpaste-flavored biscuits. It is clear she doesn’t know what to do about the ghost.

 

Coldsore Hall’s New Roof REPRINT

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Invoking a little-known law enacted in the year 636 by the Saxon warlord Bobby the Nit, Lord Jeremy Coldsore has drafted Professor Saltinus Facehead’s Egyptian diggers to put a new roof on Coldsore Hall. So begins Chapter CCCXLVI of Violet Crepuscular’s epic romance, Oy, Rodney.

Constable Chumley explains the law to Prof. Facehead.

“In yon fillid wi’ King Bobby,” he says, “we fraith the bowyers aw’ mickle groith.” The professor nods sagely, although the constable’s quaint rural dialect eludes his best efforts to understand what has been said. He replies in archaic Portuguese. It is the constable’s turn to nod sagely.

Although the diggers speak no English, and their Arabic is not that hot, either, they throw themselves enthusiastically into their work and in a mere two days, Coldsore Hall has a new roof. The entire population of Scurveyshire assembles to admire it.

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“It’s a miracle!” gushes Lady Margo Cargo. “I wish they’d do my roof like that!”

But when a moderate breeze springs up, the new roof seems to take wing and fly off toward the sunset. It will take some doing to get it back.

Here Ms. Crepuscular breaks in to report on the status of her Pulitzer Prize nomination, filed by her excitable neighbor, Mr. Pitfall.

“I am afraid Mr. Pitfall made an error and submitted the nomination to something called the Patzer Prize Committee,” she writes. “This group hands out prizes for poorly-played chess games. I cannot explain why they have decided to award a special prize to my epic romance, Oy, Rodney.”

The prize awarded is a rusty wheelbarrow. “I’ll have to find space for it on my mantle, somehow,” Ms. Crepuscular says. “It’s going to change the whole look of my living room. Given Mr. Pitfall’s current state of excitement, I dare do nothing else.”

Here the chapter breaks off for want, she admits, of inspiration.

Byron’s TV Listings, Sept. 25 REPRINT

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From September 25, 2021

What Columbus Indiana Watched On Television in Shades of Black and White

Blimey! The next time I do this, it’ll be October!

G’day, this is Byron the Quokka with another weekend’s worth of glorious TV brought to you by the sages at Quokka University. If there’s not a game of Clue going in your neighborhood, these shows are the next best thing.

5:45 P.M.  Ch. 41   TALK LIKE ELMER FUDD!–Educational

John Gielgud’s family and friends seriously considered having him put away while he was doing this series for Josip P. Broz’s People’s Public Television. Once he got started talking like Elmer Fudd, he couldn’t stop! For a good while there, it endangered his career. Featured guests: Anthony Quinn, Irene Ryan.

6 P.M.  Ch. 08   UNCONTROLLED RAVING ABOUT SPORTS–Sports

Caspar Hoojah does himself an injury as he overreacts to this week’s news in sports! Last week he jumped out his studio’s second-floor window because the Yankees got yanked. This week, who knows? The walls of his studio have since been padded: we’ll see if that keeps him out of the hospital. With R.D. Laing and his orchestra.

Ch. 16  MOVIE–Steamy Jungle Romance

In “Steaming Jungle Passion” (1996), Prof. Gargle (Leonard Bernstein) leads an expedition into the Amazon rain forest in search of Batboy (Frank Buttocks)–only to discover a long-lost city of maniacs ruled by fantastically beautiful women, all of whom want the professor and will do anything to get him! Boobah: Ellen Burstyn. Crowd of lunatics: the June Taylor Dancers. Song: “Itchy Jungle Disease”

6:30 P.M.   Ch. 12  CTHULHU & CO.–Cartoons

Inspired by the horror tales of H. P. Lovecraft, these cartoons are guaranteed to freak you out! Many viewers require long-term psychiatric therapy after just one or two exposures. Others, we regret to say, join disreputable cults. Host: Uncle Jack Torrance. Puppets: Beto O’Rourke, Elizabeth Warren.

Ch. 52  “YOUR MOVE, STUPID!”–Game Show

Can you play Monopoly, poker, checkers, and Candy Land at the same time? Our celebrity contestants will try to do just that, rushing from table to table as the overhead Monster Clock ticks away… Raul Castro this week puts his title on the line against The Dixie Chicks, Dan Rather, and Barney Rubble. Host: a disembodied head floating in a jar, we don’t know whose.

Well, mates, there you go! Maybe you should record some of these, in case Q.U. ever has to open its doors and start teaching courses. But for the time being, it’s party time!

World's happiest animal', the quokka, becomes the most popular tourist attraction at Australia's Rottnest Island

By Popular Demand: The Queen’s Not There Yet OY RODNEY REPRINT

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From December 21. 2017

All right, everybody, you asked for it: another installment of Oy, Rodney by Violet Crepuscular: Chapter CIV.

As Lady Margo tries to find out who is Queen of England at this time, Princess Didi visits Scurveyshire incognito to get the lay of the land. When she approaches the wading pool in the vicar’s back yard, Constable Chumley promptly arrests her. “Ye come alang wi’ me, lass,” he says, “ye’ll not be wilmin’ by yon brawnnick gulsen.”

“You fool, take your hands off the daughter of the Queen!” Her protests are to no avail, and she is deposited in the local lockup.

Meanwhile Lord Jeremy Coldsore, awaiting his marriage to Lady Margo, fobs off his creditors with a promise that the Queen herself will pay his bills. “Her Majesty is to be an honored guest at my wedding, and will spend the night in the Royal Suite of Coldsore Hall.” He does not mention that no one has spent the night in the Royal Suite of Coldsore Hall since 1603, when the Duke of Dobley went in one night and never came out.

Having convinced Lady Margo that he and the American adventurer Willis Twombley are one and the same and that it therefore doesn’t matter which one of them appears at the wedding as the groom, Lord Jeremy’s peace of mind is rattled by Twombley’s off-hand question: “Say, Germy, was you really jist a foundling left on the steps of this here hall? Margo says so.”

This is the first Lord Jeremy has ever heard of it. “I am sure the lady has me confused with someone else,” he replies.

“Someone else besides me?”

“Please, Sargon!” Twombley believes he is Sargon of Akkad. “Please concentrate on the arrangements for the wedding! I’m growing rather concerned about the vicar. Ever since recovering from his conniptions, he skips everywhere instead of walking, and makes cryptic remarks about some writhing tentacles he thinks he saw under the pool. I fear his mind may be unsettled.”

“Oh, he’ll be all right for the wedding,” Twombley says. “Anyhow, it’s your turn to go to Margo’s tonight for supper. Try to be cheerful, ol’ hoss! Soon as the Queen gets here, we’re goin’ to get hitched and all your troubles will be over.”

Given the prodigious length of the rest of the book, we are at liberty to doubt the accuracy of that prediction.

And we still don’t know who the dickens “Rodney” is.

That Business with the Mob of Peasants (‘Oy, Rodney’) REPRINT

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From June 2, 2019

 

Introducing Chapter CCXCIV of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney, Violet Crepuscular confides in her readers, “Let me confide in you, dear readers! I do wish Mr. Duigon had not said I was ‘in jail’! I was merely helping the police with their inquiries. They are trying to discover who, if anyone, poisoned Mr. Pitfall, and they now suspect everyone in the neighborhood–he is that unpopular. I hope they realize now that my toothpaste rolls couldn’t make anybody that sick!” She is a little miffed that none of the police officers was willing to try one himself.

Moving on to the chapter, she describes the grief and horror that overwhelmed all Scurvyshire when Mr. Percy Puce, F.R.S., the shire’s Resident Genius, disappeared below the vicar’s backyard wading pool as the result of a fall from a clandestine sliding board. Don’t ask me if that’s a suitable adjective for a sliding board. I just work here.

Provoked beyond measure, a mob of peasants armed with torches and pitchforks assembles at The Lying Tart. Why they should want torches in broad daylight is mystifying. Maybe it’s just a thing that mobs of peasants do.

“We’ll destroy the vicar’s wading pool if it’s the last thing we do!” vows the mob’s ringleader, button collecter Oswald Backdraft, Official Ringleader of the Peasants Benevolent Association. The mob rushes off to the vicar’s back yard and that’s the last anybody sees of them.

Hours later, word of the incident reaches Lord Jeremy Coldsore at Coldsore Hall, where they have just put the Marquess of Grone to bed.

“We’re going to run out of peasants at this rate!” ejaculates Lord Jeremy. (“It’s a perfectly permissible use of that verb!” insists Ms. Crepuscular. I just work here.) “Constable Chumley, you ought to have prevented this disaster!”

“Huish, M’lord, I deagle fair maundery this fleethin’,” parries the constable. He rushes off to The Lying Tart to see if he can find any clues at the bottom of a tankard of ale.

This still leaves five chapters, I think, to be written before catching up to Chapter CCC, which Ms. Crepuscular has written out of order. “I pledge myself to accomplish this,” she writes in a chapter-ending footnote, “provided I am left in peace!”

Lord Jeremy’s Wooing, Part 2 REPRINT

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From November 15, 2017

Once again we turn to Violet Crepuscular’s epic romance, Oy, Rodney, Chapter LXXVI. Willis Twombley, the American adventurer who thinks he is Sargon of Akkad, has sworn eternal friendship to Lord Jeremy Coldsore, who in an absent-minded moment, distracted by his own troubles, was the first to call him Sargon.

Mr. Twombley is now in Lady Margo Cargo’s parlor, to plead with her to marry Lord Jeremy.

Lady Margo takes out her glass eye, polishes it with the hem of her dress, pops it back into the socket. “Really, Mr. Twombley, doesn’t Miss Crepuscular know this scene has already been done, in The Courtship of Miles Standish?”

“Who, ma’am?”

“Also, sir, you talk funny.”

Twombley crosses his eyes. “Why, ma’am, that there’s jist my Akkadian accent comin’ out. Ah cain’t help it, thass how we talk. You just close yore ahs and make believe it ain’t me but Lord Germy who’s a-talkin’ to you.” Lady Margo closes the only eye that needs closing. Twombley finds the effect unnerving, but proceeds.

“Dear Lady Margo, Ah declare yo’re jist about the purttiest filly in all this land of England or wherever we are, and Ah would be the happiest man on earth if you and me could mosey on down to the parson and git hitched.”

Lord Jeremy is crouched under the bay window, listening from the outside. This is his last chance to stave off ruin and bankruptcy. Marriage to Lady Margo will save Coldsore Hall. And Twombley seems to be doing very well.

“Why, Mr. Twombley, no one has ever spoken such words to me before!” Lady Margo gushes. She makes a coquettish gesture that causes her wig to be crooked. “Very well, my dear man, if you insist! We shall visit the pastor and get hitched, as you put it, this very afternoon! At my time of life, I can’t afford to shilly-shally.”

Twombley does not know what to say. Lord Jeremy shrieks, then faints.

“Don’t be alarmed, dear, it’s just a screech owl in the garden,” Lady Margo coos.

We don’t know if the wedding comes off. I peeked into the next chapter and it’s not in there. That chapter is mostly Miss Crepuscular complaining about certain deficiencies in her diet.