"The last word on TMP" Topic

If you ate healthier you would not have to "form" a breast, just what do you mean by that anyways?

Ambuscade! Pieces de Soixante-Quinze, tirez! A bas les troupes infernales commandes par le General Marmot!

Some 75mm fox-holes for the unlikely allies of Baudrons.

Right page-turner this has become, by the way.

That's one heavy-duty Office-Chair.

You said that in public, shocking!

I did, and I thought more. Candidly, I thought, de temps en temps il faut epater la menagerie, poor encouragement for the otters though that might be. And I also thought, with an element of resistance, "Ohm my… gaudy aunt, the strong, negative charge in that heated reaction is a diversion, a distraction from the main, the direct current of discourse, an under-pawed attempt to alternate from this dynamic heckle-everyone with the keyboard-rattling of a real live wire. Yet I, steady and static, remained insulated from such attraction. "What!" I thought, and again – powerfully – "What! What feeble lightning through yonder WindowsApp breaks! I will never let a Volt tear me a new infernal pit! In short, Sir, cut to the chase; rodent though art, and rodent thou shalt remain, whatever that Cat may promise. Potential differences aside, thou art in essence but an aurally modified Rabbit, and the heaviest examples of thy species, genus, family or whatever, are the most esteemed. "Plump" is a traditional term of appreciation. Good feeding on a squirrel, too.

Then I also thought, since the prospect of being gnawed, an unholy modern homage to Bishop Hatto, by a platoon of … powerfully built Prairie Hounds concentrates the mind horrifically, "That ain't no Prairie Dog. That's a wandering Beaver, fleeing the Great Lakes for the Great Plains while there's still an Ozone Layer left. That could be a Capybara, drying out. That brute's genetically enhanced. Hell, if that mass of comfortably distributed rodent flesh be in the Cat's auxiliary Subterranean Squad squeaking their perpetually micturating way towards my quaking Infernality, I have but one tactic; if that bulky bunny's your Gunny, I'm gaunae huvtae runny!

But I also thought, which pleased me most, "ain't he cute! Think of him crouching in a Children's Zoo, and all those pudgy little fingers poking into his generous rolls of … embonpoint. Briefly. Once."

Cave Felis. Let ye tak tent o' Baudrons, Uplandis Rottan. Who know them best distrust them most.

Well, that was a quite wordy whatever. I'd pay more attention but right now I have a serious itch going.

(Some of these posted Images appear, to me, as blank squares; I envy those who can see all the Evidence. In this instance, lacking such, I cannot diagnose the specific complaint or condition, or even its locus. Hygiene might be an issue?)

"Its paws were foul and dirty, never wash'd
In all its life, with long Nails over-raught
Like Puddock's claws, with one of which it scratch'd
Its cursed Head, although it itched naught…"

Too busy reading, talk to you later….

Since we're doing nonsense poetry…

Twas brillig and the slithy toves did gire and gimble in the wabe, all mimsy were the borogoves and the momes rath outgrabe.

L. Carroll

I'm starving, we aint had nothing but maggoty bread for three stinking days…..

The hungry bamz look up, but are not fed? A most reprehensible practice, a bad hobbit, a want greatly to be deplored; say "Hi!" at us, Val de Deflendus.

""*[//]) {> ::::

She permitted herself a thin smile…

Vot ist all dis in der French? I remember zer French, zey veren't zo happy vonce upon der time.

Insane!

No. In Seine!

Now there is an admirable looking fellow.

The heroes are many, and well known to Fame, in the troops that are led by the Czar.

""*[//]) {> ::::

Tsar farewell to his guard. Artist. Pavel Ryzhenko.

I'm starving, we aint had nothing but maggoty bread for three stinking days…..

Hey keep it down or everyone will want maggots in their bread too!!

Problem solved!

The written words remain, but the image vanished.

google images just capriciously zaps things, they have declined to explain to me what the issue is.

And all of us see ya, and think on the moon.

He smiled like a razor.

Its all coming off …EVERY BIT!

There he goes again….

It is all coming opf?? Vot, even der wig???

Just don't let them get wet.

And all of us see ya, and think on the moon.

He smiled like a razor.

I think Robert is sharing that pipe with Uncle Adolf.

That pipe is nothing more than a prop, only a pretence, a Mere Sham! So real and yet surreal. O, ye of the Bible-black Darkness, think on the Cat from the Wrong Side of the Rails, and hear that mine eyes are clouded, though neither with grief nor leaf.

I grin like a razor again, and, before letting in the Moon, make sure her sandals are clean.

I rest my case!

"First I protest, beau Schiris, be your leif
Beis weill advisit my werk or ye repreif,
Considdir it weill, reid oftair than anis,
Weill at ane blenk slee poetry nocht tane ys"

Gavin Douglas, Bishop of Dunkeld, "Eneados".

A photograph of a dog, French or Spanish, eyes half-hidden behind the horizontal fence-rails, would have been better, but Bashytubits has a bit of a Need-a-Puss Complex, and so we bat back the balls that are thrown.
The Moon, in defiance of tradition, is constant, the clouds still uncharacteristically sharp. I grin challengingly.
Like an open razor.

\_

Action!

I won't get fooled again

91722

Oh, the drama!

Drama …dance …its all catered for here on The Last Word on TMP

Ha, that told Boozytwopints, all right!

Your humor level is too low level,

Your humor (sic) level is too low level …

Au contraire, Monsieur

Now, kiss me sailor!

I'm often asked, when I was first discovered in the jungle was I wild? WILD? I was bloody FURIOUS! I had just ordered a prime Texan Ribeye steak with peppercorn sauce and a bottle of Malbec-Merlot, when I was shifted off to Hollywood!

Uh oh, the sea is raging a bit there…

Who ist mad? I'm mad. Zer can be only von.

link

Ok, ok, those of you who want to see whats on that link form a line.