Pipe Bombs and Home Made Kahlua:
Thought for the Day:
There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.
Friedrich Nietzsche, "On Reading and Writing"
A Brief re-cap of the Weekend to Today:
It was an average weekend for the couple Public, dear reader. Friday, after my weekly labors at the salt mine, I headed to the orphanage where I volunteer pushing the little shits around in wheel chairs and shaving their little heads so I can sell it (there is quite an underground market in children’s hair).
After which I returned to the manor house and enjoyed a fine meal of canned fish products and saltine crackers, washing it all down with a bottle of Romanian wine, left over from the end of the cold war. After which my loving bride and I took turns reading to each other from our extensive collection of Louis Lamoure Westerns.
On Saturday, I awoke early and as is my custom, bathed in one on the many rivers that run through this happy little city in which I reside. Upon my return to the manor, I found much to my surprise; my loving and sweet wife was up and at it, reminding me that we both had to work, damn the luck…
So, off she went to a fast paced morning of subverting the will of the masses and I to the hallowed halls of academia, to educate my fellow man. Many of you know that I am on adjunct faculty at many of the most well respected centers of higher learning here in the north east part of the Great State of Indiana. This day, I was conducting a class of my own design, “A Retrospective on Unconventional Warfare in the New Century (When’s, Whys and How To’s) at “The Tri-State Diesel Mechanics School and College of Chiropractic Arts”.
This class has been very well received by the student body more so this day, when the students got to go into the lab and make there very own pipe-bombs, who says learning cant be fun?
I would love give a thank-you to the local fire departments and EMS personal, the amount of professionalism and dedication in what can best be described as a challenging environment was heart warming! It was a class assignment that, after all graded itself and I trust there are more than a few eight fingered co-eds who will not soon forget the lessons learned that fateful day, yes, it does pay to take good notes.
After class I received a call, from M. Chamberlain “News Paper Man” stating quite simply that he was at Baba Ghannuj Girl’s (BGG) home in the fashionable city center, setting up a tail-gate party and that he needed ice, he might of added that the Bloody Mary Bar was open, but with my ears still ringing from class it was hard to pick-up all of the conversation.
I headed home to collect the sweet and loving Mrs. JQP who had returned early from her labors. I said, “woman, put down your sewing, we have a party to go to”, never were more fateful words said dear reader, never more…
We arrived, with a bag of ice, and 10 pounds of homemade Macedonian Sausage (the patties were stomped into shape by little barefoot Macedonian widows) and my own homemade "JQP’s Secret Cougar Sausage Slaw” (TM pending). And the tail gate began. Now my flower and I enjoy meeting new people, ever more so when they are not scared to death of us, well this crowd fit both our mood and desires to drink, eat and watch some football, to a T.
The party was attended by countless members of our fair cites cultural elite, but dear reader I will only introduce you to a few (wishes for anonymity are often honored on these my pages, at least until the statue of limitations expires). Chiefly among them were OB/GY Kenobi and his petite wife Land O’ Lakes Girl (LLG).
The tail gate was wonderful, the food excellent and the company superior (an attribute of breeding, in my opinion). We adjourned to the Notre Dame room (every Catholic home in the mid-west has one) and watched the game on the big screen. Brothers and Sisters, my voice is still horse. The game was without a doubt the best game I have seen in a long, long time, while the end was less than desirable, it is a well regarded fact that while Notre Dame lost, they were not beaten and dear reader USC still sucks.
After the game, being true Irish fans, we drowned our sorrows (much like kittens in a bag thrown into a pond) in copious amounts of fermented hops and select barleys. That dear reader is where both the evening took a turn and my memories become cloudy. The highlights include listening to WWII stories from a real Band of Brothers Vet, much later on in the evening a Show us Your Boobies Contest, a tutorial on how to treat sexual frigidly, an All Girls Naked Monkey Bar Squad (in which my bride broke her foot), a continuation on the sexual mutilation of male infants genitals debate and my personal favorite Breast Milk and Spiced Rum Cocktails (yes, dear reader, at some point the party took a more drastic turn, but no one seemed to mind, we were after all “all along for the ride”). In case your wondering human breast milk and rum tastes just like Kahlua (a Shout Out! to LLG). Yes, dear reader as is often the case in the world I live; mistakes were made and alcohol was a factor.
Sunday, I read at the late Mass and then went kayaking with a few friends, after which I made a Roast, both my bride and I spent the rest of the evening enjoying each others company as only a married couple with no kids can do. Since, I am no longer eighteen; I was asleep by 7:30, while my loving and predatory wife stayed up and watched Animal Planet while darning my socks.
Yesterday, I once again found myself teaching the leaders of tomorrow, after which I had meetings all over hell’s half acre, getting home around 8 o’clock, to enjoy fellowship with my loving and very pretty bride. We enjoyed a meal of leftover roast (my secret is I add one cup of coffee to it when cooking, try it, it kicks ass).
After Vespers, we played some music together for a few hours (her an accomplished pianist and myself a master of the Pan Flute). After which we retired to our marital chambers and made the music of love. That’s my story and I am sticking to it.
Today, it’s more meetings and putting out fires since I have not been in the office. This afternoon, I am planning how to fuck the man out of the last hour of the day and head to a bar and meet some undercover operatives who I am told are holding some damning information that I might be interested in (God, I hope its not those nude photos I had taken with Paris Hilton and the Shaved Monkeys again, I was young and need the cash).
Only One Shopping Day until the much awaited “JQP’s First Annual Viewers Choice Awards for “Tattoo of the Year”.
Send yours to indianacityboy@yahoo.com if your cool....
On the Ongoing No-Love-Thursday Scandal:
It has been my experience that one of the first things to go during times of civil unrest is communication (that’s what I always target anyway). As a result, I am unable to give you the reader the inside scoop on the coup at this time, largely because I am in hiding from right-wing death squads, who it seems have allied themselves with certain fractions.
It is safe to say that things are operating about as well as the last election I observed in Liberia (I was serving, solely, in an advisory role, and as such not subject of UN mandates, we all have to pay those student loans somehow). I have been fortunate in that I was able to contact a few friends and former colleagues of mine from my days in Rhodesia who gladly flew back from some contract work they had been doing to help out with my personal security. More on this subject later.
Your Russian Mail Order Brides for the Week are:
http://www.eastwestmatch.com/search.cfm?from=email&nick=yasya
http://www.eastwestmatch.com/search.cfm?from=email&nick=mexicanka
http://www.eastwestmatch.com/search.cfm?from=email&nick=Robert
http://www.eastwestmatch.com/search.cfm?from=email&nick=Veine
http://www.eastwestmatch.com/search.cfm?from=email&nick=CHANEL1973
Today’s Bill:
SONNET 99
The forward violet thus did I chide:
Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells,
If not from my love's breath? The purple pride
Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells
In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dyed.*
The lily I condemned for thy hand,
And buds of marjoram had stol'n thy hair:
The roses fearfully on thorns did stand,
One blushing shame, another white despair;
A third, nor red nor white, had stol'n of both
And to his robbery had annex'd thy breath;
But, for his theft, in pride of all his growth
A vengeful canker eat him up to death.
More flowers I noted, yet I none could see
But sweet or colour it had stol'n from thee.
Quote of the Day:
Educate your children to self-control, to the habit of holding passion and prejudice and evil tendencies subject to an upright and reasoning will, and you have done much to abolish misery from their future and crimes from society.
Benjamin Franklin
I remain, your invisible friend, the one you blamed everything on:
JQP esq.
There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.
Friedrich Nietzsche, "On Reading and Writing"
A Brief re-cap of the Weekend to Today:
It was an average weekend for the couple Public, dear reader. Friday, after my weekly labors at the salt mine, I headed to the orphanage where I volunteer pushing the little shits around in wheel chairs and shaving their little heads so I can sell it (there is quite an underground market in children’s hair).
After which I returned to the manor house and enjoyed a fine meal of canned fish products and saltine crackers, washing it all down with a bottle of Romanian wine, left over from the end of the cold war. After which my loving bride and I took turns reading to each other from our extensive collection of Louis Lamoure Westerns.
On Saturday, I awoke early and as is my custom, bathed in one on the many rivers that run through this happy little city in which I reside. Upon my return to the manor, I found much to my surprise; my loving and sweet wife was up and at it, reminding me that we both had to work, damn the luck…
So, off she went to a fast paced morning of subverting the will of the masses and I to the hallowed halls of academia, to educate my fellow man. Many of you know that I am on adjunct faculty at many of the most well respected centers of higher learning here in the north east part of the Great State of Indiana. This day, I was conducting a class of my own design, “A Retrospective on Unconventional Warfare in the New Century (When’s, Whys and How To’s) at “The Tri-State Diesel Mechanics School and College of Chiropractic Arts”.
This class has been very well received by the student body more so this day, when the students got to go into the lab and make there very own pipe-bombs, who says learning cant be fun?
I would love give a thank-you to the local fire departments and EMS personal, the amount of professionalism and dedication in what can best be described as a challenging environment was heart warming! It was a class assignment that, after all graded itself and I trust there are more than a few eight fingered co-eds who will not soon forget the lessons learned that fateful day, yes, it does pay to take good notes.
After class I received a call, from M. Chamberlain “News Paper Man” stating quite simply that he was at Baba Ghannuj Girl’s (BGG) home in the fashionable city center, setting up a tail-gate party and that he needed ice, he might of added that the Bloody Mary Bar was open, but with my ears still ringing from class it was hard to pick-up all of the conversation.
I headed home to collect the sweet and loving Mrs. JQP who had returned early from her labors. I said, “woman, put down your sewing, we have a party to go to”, never were more fateful words said dear reader, never more…
We arrived, with a bag of ice, and 10 pounds of homemade Macedonian Sausage (the patties were stomped into shape by little barefoot Macedonian widows) and my own homemade "JQP’s Secret Cougar Sausage Slaw” (TM pending). And the tail gate began. Now my flower and I enjoy meeting new people, ever more so when they are not scared to death of us, well this crowd fit both our mood and desires to drink, eat and watch some football, to a T.
The party was attended by countless members of our fair cites cultural elite, but dear reader I will only introduce you to a few (wishes for anonymity are often honored on these my pages, at least until the statue of limitations expires). Chiefly among them were OB/GY Kenobi and his petite wife Land O’ Lakes Girl (LLG).
The tail gate was wonderful, the food excellent and the company superior (an attribute of breeding, in my opinion). We adjourned to the Notre Dame room (every Catholic home in the mid-west has one) and watched the game on the big screen. Brothers and Sisters, my voice is still horse. The game was without a doubt the best game I have seen in a long, long time, while the end was less than desirable, it is a well regarded fact that while Notre Dame lost, they were not beaten and dear reader USC still sucks.
After the game, being true Irish fans, we drowned our sorrows (much like kittens in a bag thrown into a pond) in copious amounts of fermented hops and select barleys. That dear reader is where both the evening took a turn and my memories become cloudy. The highlights include listening to WWII stories from a real Band of Brothers Vet, much later on in the evening a Show us Your Boobies Contest, a tutorial on how to treat sexual frigidly, an All Girls Naked Monkey Bar Squad (in which my bride broke her foot), a continuation on the sexual mutilation of male infants genitals debate and my personal favorite Breast Milk and Spiced Rum Cocktails (yes, dear reader, at some point the party took a more drastic turn, but no one seemed to mind, we were after all “all along for the ride”). In case your wondering human breast milk and rum tastes just like Kahlua (a Shout Out! to LLG). Yes, dear reader as is often the case in the world I live; mistakes were made and alcohol was a factor.
Sunday, I read at the late Mass and then went kayaking with a few friends, after which I made a Roast, both my bride and I spent the rest of the evening enjoying each others company as only a married couple with no kids can do. Since, I am no longer eighteen; I was asleep by 7:30, while my loving and predatory wife stayed up and watched Animal Planet while darning my socks.
Yesterday, I once again found myself teaching the leaders of tomorrow, after which I had meetings all over hell’s half acre, getting home around 8 o’clock, to enjoy fellowship with my loving and very pretty bride. We enjoyed a meal of leftover roast (my secret is I add one cup of coffee to it when cooking, try it, it kicks ass).
After Vespers, we played some music together for a few hours (her an accomplished pianist and myself a master of the Pan Flute). After which we retired to our marital chambers and made the music of love. That’s my story and I am sticking to it.
Today, it’s more meetings and putting out fires since I have not been in the office. This afternoon, I am planning how to fuck the man out of the last hour of the day and head to a bar and meet some undercover operatives who I am told are holding some damning information that I might be interested in (God, I hope its not those nude photos I had taken with Paris Hilton and the Shaved Monkeys again, I was young and need the cash).
Only One Shopping Day until the much awaited “JQP’s First Annual Viewers Choice Awards for “Tattoo of the Year”.
Send yours to indianacityboy@yahoo.com if your cool....
On the Ongoing No-Love-Thursday Scandal:
It has been my experience that one of the first things to go during times of civil unrest is communication (that’s what I always target anyway). As a result, I am unable to give you the reader the inside scoop on the coup at this time, largely because I am in hiding from right-wing death squads, who it seems have allied themselves with certain fractions.
It is safe to say that things are operating about as well as the last election I observed in Liberia (I was serving, solely, in an advisory role, and as such not subject of UN mandates, we all have to pay those student loans somehow). I have been fortunate in that I was able to contact a few friends and former colleagues of mine from my days in Rhodesia who gladly flew back from some contract work they had been doing to help out with my personal security. More on this subject later.
Your Russian Mail Order Brides for the Week are:
http://www.eastwestmatch.com/search.cfm?from=email&nick=yasya
http://www.eastwestmatch.com/search.cfm?from=email&nick=mexicanka
http://www.eastwestmatch.com/search.cfm?from=email&nick=Robert
http://www.eastwestmatch.com/search.cfm?from=email&nick=Veine
http://www.eastwestmatch.com/search.cfm?from=email&nick=CHANEL1973
Today’s Bill:
SONNET 99
The forward violet thus did I chide:
Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells,
If not from my love's breath? The purple pride
Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells
In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dyed.*
The lily I condemned for thy hand,
And buds of marjoram had stol'n thy hair:
The roses fearfully on thorns did stand,
One blushing shame, another white despair;
A third, nor red nor white, had stol'n of both
And to his robbery had annex'd thy breath;
But, for his theft, in pride of all his growth
A vengeful canker eat him up to death.
More flowers I noted, yet I none could see
But sweet or colour it had stol'n from thee.
Quote of the Day:
Educate your children to self-control, to the habit of holding passion and prejudice and evil tendencies subject to an upright and reasoning will, and you have done much to abolish misery from their future and crimes from society.
Benjamin Franklin
I remain, your invisible friend, the one you blamed everything on:
JQP esq.
posted by John Q. Public esq. at 2:20 AM
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