Once more dyed the rich red colour of sockeye salmon

real outfits for the lads: Smug Mountie is drunk with lemonade and power
real outfits for the lads: future redneck rancher is two seconds away from whuppin' you
real outfits for the lads: you can't see it, but this kid's wearing chaps.
Flashy Gene Autry sling style holster, with artificial firearm and Curse of Gene Autry
Real outfits for the panicked Home Front

Vitals

Written by the guy who hums to himself as he paws through the dumpster

Fueled by rage and fresh roasted peanuts

Design by
Die Schmutz

Worthwhile Palinode Pages:
Humpty's Menu:
one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight - nine - ten - eleven - twelve - thirteen - fourteen

Can't Stop the Link:
palinode's bloggier blog
The Modern Word
open brackets
smartypants
friday-films
luvabeans
buzzflash
new world disorder
sex & guts!
the memory hole
national pist
Milkmoney or Not
mirabile visu
The Web Revolution!

Fueled by rage and fresh roasted peanuts

an entry unrelated to the charmless Clay Aiken

THE CRAZIES OF MY CITY

1. Rubber ball guy. Who is Rubber Ball Guy? Why does he vanish for months at a time and reappear riding city buses, decked out in a greasy Elvis pompadour and constantly squeezing and sniffing rubber balls? Why does he carry around a dirty canvas bag full of them? Why does he squeal like an overgrown mouse in the body of a zombie Elvis? Hard to say.

2. The King of Regina. Also known as Babylon or The Regina Screamer. Whenever he's off his meds, The King walks around town encased in a private shell of embattled hatred. He can usually be spotted striding aggresively down the street, cursing everything in sight. His many enemies include: anything yellow or red, Germans, Americans, Cherokees, Jews, witches, half-breed bitches (whatever they are), Albertans, and passersby. In his more lucid moments he will willingly discuss his position on world affairs, which is a healthy mix of concerns over globalization (especially in relation to German auto imports), a deeply felt Christianity, and a kneejerk racism that can only be described as totally fucking insane.

3. The Woman Who Needs Money for Pads. Hair like red straw and the face of a drowned infant, The Woman Who Needs Money for Pads will walk into traffic to get to her mark, which is usually me. She is unable to feed herself properly and always seems to be on the verge of falling over, but she has hawk-keen eyes and a keening call of "Excuse me sir!" that carries for blocks. No matter what time of month it is, she needs money for pads. Sometimes I wonder if she buys entire palettes of pads wholesale and makes comfy indoor furniture out them.

4. The Famous Woman. I've lived in Regina on and off since 1989 and The Famous Woman has always been here, walking the streets with an air of guarded dignity and five pounds of makeup on ther face. She's a bulky woman with a hooked nose and makeup so exaggerated that she passes through and beyond Baby Jane territory. Although she always wears a beige coat and a purple bandanna around her head, she goes shopping for clothes often, and can usually be seen in the Cornwall Centre with shopping bags. It turns out that The Famous Woman uses her makeup and clothing as a disguise, because she's actually incredibly famous. No one knows who she thinks she is.

5. Derek. Derek is your buddy. You will know this when you see him, because he will wave you down and call out, "Hey buddy!". You and Derek are such good buddies that he can smoke your cigarettes. Once you quit smoking you're not really Derek's buddy anymore, but he'll still stop and chat you up for 30 minutes or so. For some reason Derek combines thrift store T-shirts and sweatpants with streaked pretty-boy hair.

6. Robert. Whatever meds Robert takes, you want them. No one on Earth is happier than Robert. He's a gnomish guy with brutally cut hair and loose dentures, but I've seen him charm a busload of women with his passionate and eloquent compliments. Robert has a knack for zeroing in on the one thing that you like about yourself and then praising it. How does he do it? I think Robert slides about on a kind of divine astral plane. He got a lot of cigarettes out of me one day.

7. The Kevin Who Tells Jokes. I thought he'd disappeared in the early 90s, but last week I saw him walking down the street, The Kevin Who Tells Jokes. Kevin looks like the archetypal guy from down the hall who's perpetually drinking a Bud, and once he invited you over for a party, but when you got there it was just you and him and he was watching a porn when you showed up. The Kevin looks just like that guy, except for the visible lobotomy scar. He also tells jokes: a solid routine that he has honed over the years, peppered with such zingers as: "I cut my drinking in half. (pause) I stopped adding mix! (punch in the arm) But seriously, I don't drink anymore. (pause) (pause) I don't drink any less either!" I saw him reeling out his routine in the park over the weekend. It was exactly as I remembered it.

Retracted on 2003-07-10::6:04 p.m.


parode - exode


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