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We've
decided to reprint the Admiral's New Year's 1998 address. In
furthering the concept of taking procrastination to new heights
of stupidity, we're releasing it now, fully three-quarters of
the way through the year....just because....
Well kidz; here we be at the dawn
of a new year/new fear/new tear and NEW CHEER (most importantly)!
So, like what's the deal? Does anybody out there have a clue
what the New Year will bring and why or why not? Huh?
Well, paradiddlic-prognosticational
prattling aside (Golly! The boy's
penchant for alliteration IS getting t'be a bit much, n'est ce
pas?), We
here at Krozabeeep Industries Limited, have, once again, accepted
dutifully/ruefully/less-than-willingly (or is it willy-nillyingly)
the dodgy assignation of attempting to piss in the pantheon of
pragmatism
and, basically, create something akin to a "state of the
onion"
manifestoscreed, as it were.. Just so ya's know we do not take
this task
lightly, I ask you to observe that, while, Yas I am indeed wearing
my
undershorts on my head again, and too, I've not been taking my
meds very regularly, I am in posession of some small modicum
of clarity and with that as evidence of credence, I ask you to
indulge, yet again, my truculent rumblings/ramblings/stumblings.
With that said, let's
proceed to the talent portion of our broadcast and
listen to Miss Pennsylvania to feebly attempt to play "I'm
a Little
Teapot" on ocarina and butt-trumpet simultaneously...(you
folks inda
firs' few rows might wanna back up jussa wee bit...) And please
remember, this year's swimsuit competition has, at popular request
and
much to our mutual dismay, been replaced with the all new
"Bible-Reading-In-Tongues" challenge instead. And now,
back to you, Joey Croemboza...
"T'anks, Pluto.
Y'know, I kinda get all choked up every year about this
time. Another year's come and gone, I still miss our trips to
Krezbo-eena-land ferda Holidays, an' I often wonder about whatever
became of those little Munchkin-sorta guys who useda live on
that rusty houseboat down on the Tunfelina River. They din't
put up no Crixmas lights or nuttin' ferda last two years and
they always look so sad when ya see 'em shoppin' at da Safeway
wit' theire little crumpled lists and their shoes on backwards
and the shopping carts overflowing with all those melons and
tins of cat food. It just makes one wonder; what's the meaning
of life an' why don't we ever seem t'get enough of da right coupons
t'make us solvent with laughter and flush with tranquility (or
at leas' tranquilizers aplenny)?"
"Jeezis, Joey!!!
I hardly think this is the time or place to start that old rant
again. What's the matter with you? Haven't you learned your lesson?
Do ya haveta keep bringin' up dat same tired ol' stuff everytime
we putya on microphone? Huh? And what about yer promise to keep
yer dog Jell-bo inda camper til we finished this year's pageant?
Huh? He just bit the gaffer and peed on Miss Issippi's hang glider.
Huh? What about that? Jeez..........."
WE INTERRUPT
THIS BROADCAST FOR THE FOLLOWING REALLY IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT...PLEASE
NOTE IN THE EVENT OF A REAL EMERGENCY, INSTRUCTIONS WILL BE BROADCAST
TO YOU TELEPATHICALLY AND THERE'D BE NO NEED FOR SUCH TIRED-ASS
MELODRAMA AS THIS IN THE FIRST PLACE....WE NOW RETURN YOU TO
OUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED PROGRAM ALREADY IN PROGRESS, SO, SUE
ME! |
