Explodacated

Slow days in Darkest Wisconsin, apparently:

The Wisconsin Poet writes: Notice the sheer panic as Bob shakes his head back and forth, back and forth, back and forth and…then….resignation…and a peaceful calm come over him right before…Well, see for yourself…

Cue Robyn Hitchcock: …and the balloon man blew up on my john…

Comments

  1. cubeland mystic says

    This would be a good post to end the blog on. Just saying.

  2. Matthew Lickona says

    Apex or nadir?

  3. cubeland mystic says

    dude,

    Don't analyze, just go with it. It works on so many levels. It's like the curve of a woman's hip, it just works. Don't ask why. Play the sunset.

  4. Matthew Lickona says

    Can't do it. There are at least two people who thank me for it every now and then.

  5. Sigh. The thought that comes to mind after watching it is: that looks like just another day at Testosterhome.

    I'm not quite ready emotionally to blog about how my son's religious ed teacher asked the class to draw a picture of a relaxing place and he drew a golden toilet…

  6. Matthew Lickona says

    Hold the line, Rachel, hold the line.

  7. Rachel, et al,

    I should say something on behalf of my Aussie Bro-in-lo.

    As he is from the great socialist state of Australia, the idea of going out to the back forty and shooting guns and blowing things up is so foreign that it makes Aussie lingo sound like Ebonics.

    That said, we DO have a tradition of blowing up commodes – in particular, though, we like to take the Canadian jobbers – the one's that give you a thimbles' worth of flush – that have been forced on us by Gorenomics.

    This latest was the coinciding of two events – the removal of said offending plumbing from my domicile and the visiting of said violence-starved brother in law from the Land Down Under.

    At any rate, I will not deny that testosterone levels are unnaturally high at such events – but they are hardly the cause – or at least not the catalyst. If you notice the sounds in the background are mostly the delightful screams of children – about, let's see… 16 or 17 or so. A regular day, in other words, here on the farm.

    Some people dissect frogs for science class, here at Homebody Home School, we explode crappers.

    (It's amazing what sorts of physics lessons the children learn by inspecting the debris field…)

    JOB

    P.s. Bob was my Aussie-in-law's idea. It is fall after all – and we must do SOMETHING with the leaves….

  8. P.S.

    Thanks for Godsbody, Matthew!

    JOB

  9. cubeland mystic says

    JOB

    Homegrown reading, writing, and small arms training. A necessary skill in revolutionary times–reading and writing that is.

    Well done sir.

  10. Rufus McCain says

    I took this to be a commentary and concluding unscientific postscript to Korrektiv's Sit-Down Pee series.

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