Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)
Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.
This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.
Wednesday, September 01, 2004
Eschewing the wisdom of Groucho Marx
Last evening, Chet the E-Mail Boy came running in breathlessly (breathlessly being more his normal state, and running being more of a shuffle) from his Linotype machine in the basement with a printout of the following message from someone who obviously never thought it wrong to want to be in club that would have him as a member: Chet thought it must be some sort of secret mission and quickly volunteered to don his doughboy helmet and jump in the Pinto, but I stayed his enthusiasm and noted that obviously the mysterious Bob was probably a lunatic of some sort, and needed to be treated with some circumspection. I clicked over, and saw that the poor fellow seems to have gotten inspiration from a witch's brew of Instapundit, Gut Rumbles, Cut on the Bias, and this dump of a blog.
Obviously, one disturbed fellow.
Alas, a perfect candidate for induction into the MIGHTY AND POWERFUL Goldenrod State Sailing and Sarcasm Society, better known to the world as the Axis of Weevil!
This morning, I summoned Chet back into the Command Center and gave him the Membership Rules to lovingly translate into Morse code and transmit to Bob to see if he indeed was all that he can be. In a trice, which is about an hour, Bob sent back his application neatly filled out, which I will now share with you all so you, too, may take a lesson on how to pad a resume: Hmm--this is disturbing--only 65%. Well, okay. Interesting answer--BUT WRONG! Well, this more than makes up for #5 and the low percentage on #2! Wha? ::sniff:: No, I'm NOT crying! Just got something in my eye, that's all... Adding saviore faire to your image, or the truck itself? WELL, no matter--I think we can all say that Bob Taylor, Birmingham resident, supervisor of all sorts of icky bloody stuff at a large local university laboratory, Viet Nam vet (LTC, MS, USA(Ret); service in RVN at 71st Evac Hosp, Pleiku and 3d MASH, Binh Thuy), and owner of Bob's Place is WELL DESERVING to take his place alongside the other members of the Axis of Weevil!
IT IS THEN with the power vested in my by Lloyd, boiler mechanic helper down at the Central Heating Plant, that I hereby BESTOW, and GRANT, and IMPART unto Robert L. Taylor, Jr., FULL AND COMPLETE membership within the Heart of Dixie Audiovisual Club (aka The Axis of Weevil) with all of the rights, obligations, coupons, and suffering pertaining thereto.
Welcome aboard, Bob, and in honor of your achievement, you will, as is our custom, receive your very own World Famous Axis of Weevil Gift Pack, containing a rack of Dreamland ribs, a gallon jug of Milo's sweet tea; a G-Lox Wedgee gun rack from Mark's Outdoor Sports for your Explorer, a package of Bubba's Beef Jerky (according to Dr. Weevil, this is homemade and is available only at the gas station at the end of Highway 82 in Bibb County); a three piece, 24 ounce box of Priester's Pecan Logs; a box of Jim Dandy grits; a 16 ounce bottle of Dale's Steak Sauce; AND a six pack of Buffalo Rock Ginger Ale!
As a special bonus, Jimmy (from next door, not Jimmy from Accounting) has agreed to produce for you a one-of-a-kind keepsake that you may place in your laboratory. As you all know, Jimmy has a "condition" that is eased somewhat by allowing his artistic side free reign, and after he gets through with his sculpture of Richard Petty done in MRE wrappers for Captain Frank, he intends to do a similar objet de art for Bob--a life-size representation of Tinsley Harrison modeled in agar! Enjoy, Bob!
Now then, all of you be sure to welcome Bob to the fold. I wouldn't ask him about the lucky hat he keeps in his briefcase, though.
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