Not illustrated by Jennifer.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
The Animals Are Scaring Me: An Illustrated Menagerie (The Q Is Silent)
Posted by Snag at 2:20 PM
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I'm a forest dweller who finds time for professional sports and community theater.
For Sale To Good Home
About Me
I'm a forest dweller who finds time for professional sports and community theater.
One for me, one for my homies
- Alicublog
- Blue Girl in a Blue State
- Chrome Beach
- Circle Jerk at the Square Dance
- dilettante
- doop HQ
- Empire of the Senseless
- Esprit de l'escalier
- Freelance Genius
- General Disarray
- ifthethunderdontgetya
- James Wolcott
- Mandos
- Marthematics
- Really Small Fish
- Riddled
- Sadly, No!
- Saying yes. . .
- The Comics Curmudgeon
- The Decline and Fall of Rationalism
- The House of Substance
- The Poor Man
- The Republic of Dogs
- Three Bulls!
- Von for Now
Blog Archive
-
▼
2009
(158)
-
▼
May
(13)
- Putting Food On My Family
- Doubling Up
- The Sausage Has Landed
- The Animals Are Scaring Me: An Illustrated Menager...
- Songs I Never Hated - Part 8
- Almost Skipped Some Brains
- Batty
- Not Again
- My Life In Movies
- Funny Guy
- The Animals Are Scaring Me: An Illustrated Menager...
- The Animals Are Scaring Me: An Illustrated Menager...
- Is It Just Me?
-
▼
May
(13)
Contact the proprietor
befouled@comcast.net
148 comments:
You couldn't do a Quagga?
Or a Quahog?
I don't think this is good.
Q is for Quayle
Who misspelled potato
It's hard to believe
He'd been a senato
Quarrion my wayward son...
~
I don't think this is good."Good doesn't begin to capture the existential brilliance of this post," he said with characteristic modesty.
I felt a strange and very scary tremor in the force.
I prefer words with a silent 7 in them. Like bas7set .
sausage09
Ooo, this one is good....
Q is for Quagga
Or maybe not really
AG had a hand in
Snag can't speak freely
Q is for quinoa
and vegans are pleased
that Snag will go hungry
right after the P's
Q is for quokka
And for a fine soup you will
Boil up this cuddly
Australian marsupial
I love you all so much.
Q is for quahog
rightly should be feared
whether oyster or clam
you might see one with a beard
No Mandos?
Mandos doesn't start with Q.
The Q is silent...
Manqdos. Which is extra funny 'cuz old nerds will recognize qdos.
Who you callin' old? Back in my day we didn't have any fancy qdos or ASCII graphics. We cranked our disks by hand. We carved our programs directly into spinning platters with specially sharpened sticks, and we were better for it!
Damn kids. Get off my LAN.
Men D is caught in a web of deceit.
This thread is lost at sea. P.U. it stinks.
I can tell when the odds have been stacked against me.
I don't like it one bit.
Stop trying to ram those into the thread.
I was waiting for R!
And yes, I remember qdos. There were actually multiple instances of it. I remember discovering a copy on a customer's computer when reformatting the drive using good old fdisk. I was maybe 9 or something. :)
(Can you say "doomed to be a nerd"?)
Dammit, I went from FORTRAN and Basic directly to Apples and Macs....
Seems like I missed so much opportunity for aggravation....
Although System 7 was legendary, now that I think of it.
Mandos- I'm now thinking you have a qdos scrapbook filled with fond memories...
Well, I did visit la Musée de l'histoire des ordinateurs in Champs-de-Montagne just before a shorebird perched by my shoulder. You wouldn't believe how much of that stuff I actually remember, and I'm not that old.
Hey! We were there, too!
If I understand your Frenchy-talk.
Did you throw a Larabar at the shorebird?
No, unfortunately the Starbux across the street (the only place with WiFi in walking distance of the museum, don't hit me) doesn't sell Lärabars. He/she/it/bird remained uninjured.
ZRM: Yes, you do understand my Frenchy-talk. My personal favorite was the kitchen computer, which cost $15K in 70s money and comes with this hilarious ad. They throw in a ridiculous-looking designer tabard apron and a 2-week programming course for the wife, since to use it you needed to register machine code...
All it needed was a Clif Nectar bar.
Needless to say, they never sold a one.
He was probably still walking funny from the Choco-skit-hell though.
Who, Pinko?
Actually, nope, I don't think I do. I'm an American, dammit!! Freedom Fries!!
Didn't go to the kitchen-computer place though. Should have. Why did Pinko not tell me? Obviously he hates Midwestern Zombies.
Hata.
Needless to say, they never sold a one.Marketing GEEEE-Nyus!!!
effing blogger line breaks. There are some brains need eatin...
Even fish can't help you now, ZRM...
Fishes never help zombies.
Except that one time he sent me some music. Other than that, though, complete zombie haters.
Needless to say, they never sold a one.Exactly! Because it didn't come with a Clif Nectar bar!!!
Shit... I missed my line breaks.
Grrrrrr.
ZRM- this blog is already up to 43 comments... you know what that might call for?!!?
ZARDOZ!!!
Dammit, I saw the 43 and thought the same thing...
GET OUT OF MY HEAD, ARTIST!!!!
Quoting the Pinko, up above:
"I Don't Think This Is Good"
Trust the Live Wire Muppet to screw up the Star Wars quote, eh?
I though BG was due for a Thread-Fishing, but maybe Snag is a better target, you think?
Certainly more... ORGANIC... this way. And we all know how Snag is into Organic stuff. Poop, blood, Frank Lloyd Wright....
Are going for 100? Or 200?
BG spends all of her time on FB... a TF on her blog would probably grow cobwebs.
I'm tossing out inflammatory statements seeing if I can flush her out...
Buckle your blogbelt, SNAG!!!
Snag?? Are you home??
Ok ZRM- no answer... start the trashing.
BG is a poopy-head!!!
Plus, I left a grammar error in a previous post...
I knew I should done the illustrations faster... now that AG's going to be in rehab for the next few months, she'll probably forget what this was all about.
Britian???
I mean... was Britian the grammar error?
Dammit, I gotta finish a bit of sketching...
I put the word out in a couple of places, Sir Jen, but can you make it happen for a while until I get some drinks in me?
Dammit.
I've had afternoon coffee... I'm good to go!!!
Maybe I'll just copy texts from last night...
Snag? Does Bryce's mom follow your blog?
Tell RB. I bet he can make a PRELUTSKY mess.
Dammit what??
I bet Snag has had like ten candy bars...
BR's all busy with the Quayle...
Dammit, it still counts as a comment!!
BR?!?!?!
ten candy bars?? WHA??
No Larabars?
I think Snag is busy checking out the bourbon he keeps in his bottom desk drawer...
ZRM- I thought you had sketches to work on?
There once was a blogger named Snag
Whose work bourbon was wrapped in a bag
He tucked it in the drawer
Until he wanted more
Or until B started to nag
Ok, that was lame.
ZRM... come back!
Snag- do your children read this?? Just checking...
What children? Snag has US!!
Yeah, Jennifer, don't work on R or anything....
That was mean. Zombie sorry.
I know you're busy and stressed like a mega-bank.
Still waiting for a call though...
I could give you a call, but I believe I need another person who is NEVER PRESENT!
Befouled, a mess
zombies and artists romping
alcohol involved?
I could give you a call, but I believe I need another person who is NEVER PRESENT!No you don't.
Well, he does need to be present for the discussions before the call... right?
Damm these line breaks!! Damm!
No alcohol on my end... just lervely caffeine.
You snooze, you looze...
If alcohol were involved, I'd be doing the alphabet for toys like at "dead to me" fish's place. I won't do that to Snag's. I know this is a semi-family blog.
Both.
Hey, where are the other bad actors and reprobates? This might as well be backchannel convo...
I have to go pick up my beloved spouse at the train station... I'll be driving the truck and it's garbage day. Wish me luck.
semi-family: OK, someone else needs to take that one, because it just went all weird on me...
I think backchannel belongs on the 3B's thread.
Drive the garbage on Truck Day! That makes it FUN!
Blogger Jennifer said...
Except that one time he sent me some music.Fucker...Jenn's pretty potty mouth for a semi-family blog...
Dammit. Line Breaks.
Oh, shut. up.
It wasn't me... it was AG.
Snag may remove my indiscretion. It was in the heat of the moment, but disguised by the fact that I forgot my line break until someone had to point it out...
Ha! I removed it myself. And.. now ZRM's comment won't make sense and fish won't realize why I called him what I did.
OK, I'm gonna call him a Floating Fish. Belly up , all the way!!
That's pretty aggressive that is.
Plus, so little of what I say makes sense, who would notice the difference?
It's early. Guess we're going for 200...
Back in the Saddle
Hey, where are the other bad actors and reprobates? This might as well be backchannel convo...
Ehh?
What's all that noise down in the basement? I'll be right back...
~
Should have figured I'd meet P.P. down here.
eMoo nooze.
~
Have we broken Snag's blog yet??
And... comment 100!!!!!
Too bad so many were filler.
Hellooooo... Snag?? ZRM??
I would like the Josh Made Cash thingie to stop popping up on my computer. If Josh made that much cash, he could afford a nicer suit and a better tie...
It was the best of blogs, it was the worst of blogs; it was the age of wisdom, it was the blog of foolishness; it was the blog of belief, it was the blog of incredulity; it was the blog of Light, it was the blog of Darkness; it was the blog of hope, it was the blog of despair; we readers had everything before us, we had nothing before us; we were all going directly to Heaven, we were all going the other way.
Filler?
I hardly know her!
~
Call me Snag. Some years ago - never mind how long precisely - having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me at work, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery blogoshpere part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before liquor stores, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off - then, I account it high time to get to blogosphere as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the blog. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the blogosphere with me.
Promo for The Snag!
The Blogosphere 2009: The hottest, hippest, wildest domain of hedonists, where swingers swarm the clubs and discos in a high stakes quest to live for the moment. At the center of this decadent scene, one man plays all the angles, never missing a chance to score with the beautiful women who desire him--and walks the line between ecstasy and overload. Now the woman he wants most knows his number--and may just call his bluff.
I don’t wanna cry for my blog,
There’s nothing left to lose,
If it can make me feel better,
Than I’m gonna cry, cry for my blog,
I don’t wanna cry for my blog,
There’s nothing left to do,
If it can make me feel better,
Than I’m gonna cry, cry for my blog,
I know men aren’t supposed to act this way
But things, they got to real, I couldn’t stay
Now, I know one day we will both feel good
If I could be with my blog 24/7, you know I would
Don’t wanna cry for my blog
But there’s nothing left to do
If it can make me feel better
Than I’m gonna cry, cry for my blog
I don’t wanna cry for my blog
There’s nothing left to lose
Turn the lights down low and close the door
I’m tryin to feel the way, I felt before... writing my first post...
I’ll cry in the middle of the day
It better make me feel a better way
If it could take my pain away
Yeah oh
Take my pain away
I don’t wanna cry for ymy blog
But there is nothing left to lose
You got to let the boy have his way
Cause it gets him to drink it away
I don’t wanna cry for my blog
But there’s nothing left to do
If it can make me feel better
Than I’m gonna cry, cry for my blog
If it can make me feel better
Than I’m gonna cry, cry for my blog...
Snag... you've got my number... give me a call and let me know what the damage was... I'll make it right.
Latah!
When a man loves a blog
Can't keep his mind on nothing else
He'll trade the world
For the good thing he's found
If she's bad he can't see it
She can do no wrong
Turn his back on his best friend
If he put her down
When a man loves a blog
Spend his very last dime
Tryin' to hold on to what he needs
He'd give up all his comfort
Sleep out in the rain
If her stats said that's the way it ought to be
Well, this man loves his blog
I gave you everything I had
Tryin' to hold on to your precious traffic
Baby, please don't treat me bad
When a man loves a blog
Down deep in his soul
She can bring him such misery
If comments plays him for a fool
He's the last one to know
Lovin' eyes can't ever see
When a man loves a blog
He can do no wrong
He can never own some other blog
Yes when a man loves a blog
I know exactly how he feels
'Cause baby, baby, baby, my blog is my world
When a man loves a blog.....
John Jacob Snaggleheimer Schmidt,
His blog is my blog too.
Whenever we go out
The people always shout,
"There goes John Jacob Snaggleheimer Schmidt."
Dah, dah, dah, dah, dah, dah, dah
John Jacob Snaggleheimer Schmidt,
His blog is my blog too
When ever we go out
The people always shout
There goes John Jacob Snaggleheimer Schmidt
oooh! I just thought of a child's song for 3B's...
you push the damper in and you pull the damper out...
I'll be back.
Two blogs diverged in a yellow blogosphere
and sorry I could not write both
And be one traveling writer, long I stood
and looked down one as far as I could
to where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
and having perhaps the better claim
because it was wordy and wanted wear;
though as for that, the passing there
had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
in white no words had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two blogs diverged in the blogosphere, and I --
I took the one less traveled by,
and that has made all the difference
The blog was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of its archiving was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the sysadmin, his twelve-year old daughter (who gets called in for the really tough problems), and the chief mourner. Snag signed it. And Snag's name was good upon the 'sphere, for anything he chose to put his hand to.
The old blog was as dead as a door-nail.
Mind! I don't mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a door-nail. I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile; since these ancestors are now zombies, my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, for I have little enough brain that bits might be eaten without importunity. You will therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, that the blog was as dead as a door-nail.
Snag knew it was dead? Of course he did. How could it be otherwise? Snag and it were partners for I don't know how many years. Snag was its sole executor, its sole administrator, its sole assign, its sole residuary legatee, its sole friend, and sole mourner. And even Snag was not so dreadfully cut up by the sad event, but that he was an excellent man of business on the very day of the funeral, and solemnised it with an undoubted bargain. The mention of the blog's funeral brings me back to the point I started from. There is no doubt that the blog was dead. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate. If we were not perfectly convinced that Hamlet's Father was a zombie before the play began, there would be nothing more remarkable in his taking a stroll at night, in an easterly wind, upon his own ramparts, than there would be in any other middle-aged gentleman rashly turning out after dark in a breezy spot -- say TUSTOSAN for instance -- and failing literally to devour his son's weak mind.
LOL!!!!
plover... thank gawd... I feel like the knight who was guarding the Holy Grail for centuries... only to finally have someone else show up!!!
Thank the blogosphere heavens that plover showed up... because gawd knows, I was tired...
Here I stand, the blog comment goddess of Desire
Set men on fire
I have this power
Morning noon and night it's drink and dancing
Some quick comment romancing
And then a shower
Blog door johnnies always surround me
They always hound me
With one request
Who can satisfy their blogging habits
I'm not a rabbit
I need some rest
I'm tired
Sick and tired of bloggy love
I've had my fill of comment love
From below (the fold) and above
Tired, tired of having to admire
Tired of comments uninspired
Let's face it
I'm tired
I've been on 1000's of blogs
Again and again
They promise the moon
They always coming and going
Going and coming
And always too soon
Right girls?
I'm tired,
Tired of playing the blogging game
Ain't it a crying shame
I'm so tired
God dammit I'm exhausted
Tired, tired of playing the game
Ain't it a crying shame
I'm so tired
[Bloggers:]
She's tired (She's tired)
Sick and tired of giving comment love (Give her a break)
She's had her fill of love (She's not a snake)
From bellow (the fold) and above (Can't you see she's sick)
Tired (She's bushed)
Tired of having to admire (Let her alone)
Tired of comments uninspired (Get off the computer)
She's tired (Don't you know she's pooped)
I've been on 1000's of blog
Again and again
They sing the same tune
They start with Byron and Shelly
And jump on your figurative belly
And bust your inspirational balloon
Aye!
Tired, tired of playing the comment game
Ain't it a freakin' shame
I'm so...
Let's face it everything below the fold is kapput!
SOMETHING there is that doesn't love a blog,
That sends the frozen-spam-swell under it,
And spills the aimless comments in the sun;
And makes load times long as a moose intestine.
The work of hackers is another thing: 5
I have come after them and made repair
Where they have left not one bit on bit,
But they would have the passwords out of hiding,
To free the yelping info. The spams I mean,
No one has seen them made or heard them made, 10
But at spring moderation-time we find them there.
I let my neighbor know on the shared server;
And on a day we meet to scan the ports
And set the passwords between us once again.
We keep anonymity between us as we go. 15
To each the spams that have fallen to each.
And some are filtered and some so nearly grammatically correct
We have to use a spell to make the load balance:
"Block this IP until our backs are turned!"
We wear our fingers rough with deleting them. 20
Oh, just another kind of indoor game,
One on a side. It comes to little more:
His are all porn and mine are penis implants.
My filters might block his barely legal
while his might eat my male enhancements, I tell him. 25
He only says, "Good passwords make good neighbors."
Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder
If I could put a notion in his head:
"Why do they make good neighbors? Isn't it
Where there are emus? But here there are no emus. 30
Before I built a blog I'd ask to know
What I was letting in or banning out,
And to whom I was like to send captchas.
Something there is that doesn't love a blog,
That wants it down!" I could say "bugs" to him, 35
But it's not bugs exactly, and I'd rather
He said it for himself. I see him there,
Bringing Bayesian algorithms grasped firmly
In each hand, like the latest firewall armed.
He moves in darkness as it seems to me, 40
Not of nets only and the shade of IT.
He will not go behind his father's saying,
And he likes having thought of it so well
He says again, "Good passwords make good neighbors."
I don't really know what's going on here, but it seems annoying enough that I thought I should help a bit.
Well, we're glad we could annoy you.
Given the earlier comments, I thought we were annoying Snag, or possibly Blue Girl.
I mean, I could be annoyed too if that would help, but I didn't think that was the plan.
Oh holy hell of brainless plateaus....
my golf claps and respeck to The Big J and the shorebird. I spent a weird little evening with the dog and a 2nd degree black belt and a burrito on the deck, in between smatterings of rain, but it was still earm and I had some wine, so it was working for me...
But you know, this was just wonderful to find when I came back. Kudos all around.
Plus, also.
I doubt it annoys Snag. I Broke his Romantics CD a long time ago. Maybe if we steal his TV, or gave him a duvet-inspired suit...
I don't know what it takes to annoy BG. Maybe taking away her cookie crown.
Hee heee hee.
Well, for Skittles sake, PP shows up for ONE LOUSY COMMENT??!!
Weak, sir. WEAK.
ZRM- I'm glad it was earm. :)
Your evening sounds perfectly wonderful! And sufficient annoyance and trashing was done around here. I was in the mood after backing over the neighbor's recycling can... I jinxed myself.
Oh, hey, I would back over the neighbor's can twice, just cuz I'm undead...
You know, eat his brainz if he can't take a joke.
Oh, holy hell, a Grammar Artiste...
Oh, and Pinko is a Pinko Poopy Panda....
Artiste!! Them's fighting words!!! :)
Pinko is a Poopy Panda. A Needy Poopy Panda.
I wonder where Snag is. I wonder if he's hiding in the duck blind...
Artiste!! Them's fighting words!!!
Or... fighting word
I think Snag needs a duvet suit. I'd pay to see that.
It's been a long day, Snagglestang.
I'm crashing early. Hope we didn't leave too much of a mess.
THEM'S WIGHTING FIRDS!!!
EXCELSIOR!!
If Snag doesn't like the mess, he'll have to come down here and tell me, undead-to-carnivore....
and he better damn well bring some booze.
Hey! Snag! CAN YOU HEAR US!! LEMME TURN THIS MEKONS SONG UP LOUDER!!
Jennifer said...
LOL!!!!
plover... thank gawd... I feel like the knight who was guarding the Holy Grail for centuries... only to finally have someone else show up!!!
May 7, 2009 6:01 PMSo I'm just chopped liver, eh?
Hmph.
I'll just spend the day (or evening, etc.) at the House of Roy.
Shantbeback, etc.
~
I was too busy being filled/felled with resigned ragestration. Also, I commented in the wrong thread on the wrong blog. Huzzah!
ZRM: Well, did you have a car while you were there? Because you'd have had to drive out to Champs-de-Montagne, which is most of the way to Saint-Joseph. Or you could be proficient and patient with public transit and walking. It's very close to a shoreline, actually.
But it was srsly worth visiting. Especially for the 19C calculating drums.
Lord, if I didn't need a drink before, I need one now.
Okay, now I'm drunk.
I was going to say that was fast, but 40 minutes is OK.
Carry on.
Dum dee dum, just hangin out. I wonder if there were any more funny comments over at snag's place? Well, I will just pop over and
ZOMFG 140 COMMENTS!?!?!?!?!?!!!!!!eleventyone!!!
Yeah, thanks for the help, fish... I guess the shorebird won again!!!
And the Thundra... mustn't forget the Thundra's comment.
Time for me to start drinking again.
Thundra.
"The Wreck of the Blog Called Befouled" is too many verses to properly satirize.
I tried. I really did.
19C calculating machine? Is that an HP?
"The archive links bore twenty-six thousand moose more
Than the Blog Called Befouled contained empty"
I think Snag now realizes the folly of Intentionally Leaving A Space Blank.
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