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October 22, 2005

Comments

Marupa

What is this meaning? I have to get rid of tattoo of Che on my shoulder?

How about the one for Cuervo Gold on my other shoulder?

Oh, Mrs P, Hobbes is choking on those marbles Little Brattie...I mean Bertie put in his food.

Marupa

No, I did not put the marbles in Hobbes food. It was Bertie. Honestly.

I also did not put the steel ball bearings in his food. Or the shards of broken glass. Or the sulfuric acid.

And I did not slam Mr Puss's leg in the kitchen door. What an original name. How did you and Mr P decide to name that cat Mr Puss? I guess Bibsy and Mr Jinx were already taken.

Mrs. Peperium

Marupa, considering how a few weeks ago you went all Islam on us I wouldn't let those tattoos bother you. If you plan on being received back into the Catholic church, giving Hobbes CPR and offering it up as a form of penance might have Heaven's smile on you be a bit broader.

However, considering your fascination with Orientalism, it's much more likely you'll go either Buddist or Hindu on us next. Tattoos are allowed and even considered a work of art in both of those religions.

No matter which religion you eventually choose, since you work for me you still have to perform CPR on my cat. Get to it before Hobbes turns blue.

Andrew Cusack

And I thought she was just always wasted or something.

Mrs. Peperium

Who? Harriet, Marupa, or me?

Steve M.

Andrew knows he would be delinked if, absent good cause, he called you "wasted." So, he must have been referring to Harriet the Nominee. So far, Googledoes not show your blog in a search for "Harriet Miers tattoo". But that will change. Tune as I type: "No Room For Squares," Hank Mobley on sax, backed by Lee Morgan, Andrew Hill, John Ore and Philly Joe Jones on October 2, 1963. Hey Andrew, in your "wastrel" discussion you claimed to be as cool as Miles. Check out Mr. Mobley on the cover linked below, and tell me if your are as cool as this: http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detail/-/B00004X0QJ/qid=1130012360/sr=8-1/ref=pd_bbs_1/103-2631733-1019823?v=glance&s=music&n=507846

Quicquid

Can I be delinked if I call Mrs. P wasted? I feel I owe it to myself to explore all my delinkification options.

Card

You'll never get delinked with anything like that. Look at Stephenesque. He called her a transvestite Bircher and she didn't delink him. In fact, she didn't even delink him after he delinked her.

(Of course, she's a better sport than he is. He's kind of. . .well, you know.)

Steve M.

I feel I can admit this now, knowing that I am among friends: the main reason I have not started a blog is that I suffer from delinkaphobia. I am relieved to have gotten that off my chest.

Mrs. Peperium

Admitting it is the first step to a cure.

Next step do something incredibly offensive to challenge the delink button. Go look over at Andrew's under Well Done Jamie and then pay a late hour visit to Stephenesque's. See if you can get him to bann you.

Steve M.

Isn't the next step finding a pharma giant to write me a nice fat check, so I go on TV and flak for them about the cure they found? Good enough for Bob Dole, good enough for yours truly.

Card's wife

Now just exactly what was it Bob Dole was hawking?

Mrs. Peperium

Wait just a cotton picking minute. Now up to this moment I thought the Esquire associated with Steve M. meant lawyer. Now I think it must be his reading material for advice being an active man on the go in NYC. Watch out Steve. This is exactly how a nice Christian lady like Harriet Miers ended up with cosmetic tattoos.

Steve M.

Mrs. P, first, I believe it's spelled "cotton pickin" (that is my esquire side coming to the fore). Second, the Bob Dole ads I saw were on "TV", not in magazines. They were pushed on all of the baseball and football games I watched, while doing my thing as a nice Christian couch potatoe (proper Republican spelling, of course). But you are correct, I do need to watch out.

Steve M.

Card's wife, it is difficult for me to answer your question, this being a family blog. Why, Little Bertie or RKFDIL might read the things posted here some day! RKFDIL could be doing this already, for all I know.

Mr. Peperium

Ok, this is getting wierd.

Not only did I spend an instructive afternoon with Steve M at the Metropolitain, then an intoxicated evening with him with the TNC crew, coming away with the firm belief that if I ever had the good fortune of living in or near the Center of Things these sorts of outings with Mr. M would be an ordinary thing...

...now I'm realizing that he has my jazz collection. Hank Mobley was the first tenor who caught my ear and really made me listen. He lead to Dexter Gordon. Who lead to Coleman Hawkins. Who lead to the ultimate master, Ben Webster. (Sounds like one of those Old Testament "begat" things, doesn't it?)

Mrs. Peperium

My L'il Abner English is very rusty.

As for the advertising during football games, things have descended to such a low level that we can't even watch the games because the kids might see those ads.

Steve M.

My "begats" probably start with Bill Evans. Alas, I think we now have some repair work to do in order to get together next time the P family ventures east. I am not sure Mrs. P will be pleased to have you on a pub crawl, or hitting the jazz clubs, with the wrong kind of Esquire. Perhaps if we arrange to have Andrew there to keep us on the straight and narrow?

Andrew Cusack

I've been a fake chaperone before, actually. Mostly during the later years of high school, one or two girls I know back home occasionally want to do something or go somewhere they thought their parents would not be keen on, but they'd come up with an alternative version of events that involved me being present, I presume since most parents considered me (for better or worse) somewhat blameless. (Though I enjoyed so many of one mother's freshly-baked cookies once that she thought I was high and had the munchies).

Said friends informed me post facto and I suppose I was obliged to go along with the tale. Luckily no one ever inquired, so it never really mattered for me.

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