Author Archive for M. Toole
Cigar Smoking Not Hobby
(Moline) The practice or habit of cigar smoking does not deserve hobby status according to the North American Diversion and Needlepoint Consortium here. The committee, manned by people with nothing else to do all day, reversed a previous decision made back in March and reported by this newspaper.
During an emotionally charged meeting several proponents of cigar smoking lit up and then stormed out of the hall.
The final vote of 5-0 refused to recognize cigar smoking as a legitimate hobby. In further action the group did a crisp about-face on the status of stamp collecting which was deemed immoral almost three months ago as well.
“There is nothing obscene about placing stamps in a scrapbook and then forgetting about them,” said the group.
As expected the announcement skirted comment on the use of airplane glue in close quarters and the raising of dangerous herbs. A harsh response on the part of cigar chompers and the National Brotherhood of Humidors is not expected.
-Fanny Fumes
Snoring Elk Relocated
(Galt’s Gulch — Bull Moose Gazette)
Several hundred elk have been removed from the southern fringe of North Carne Canyon in Edith Bunker National Forest today. The animals will have a new home in Gladstone.
Since last summer campers have complained that the elk’s chronic snoring has kept them up at night. Many have already broken camp and moved to more civilized spots up Jackass Flats and along Valentine’s Ridge at the Old Maid Mine.
“Money talks. Nobody snores,” said one federal biologist who has yet to be fired by the current administration.
“We sent special agents up into the contested region and they could not sleep either,” said Max Poltroon, of the DOW task force. This here’s a Code Three. Some of these elk need to have their tonsils removed but just try to get a plumber on Sunday, heh?”
Poltroon said it was a shame that the entire herd had to be inconvenienced by a few bad apples. Elk are special here. They are protected. Other bothersome species often face deportation if it is determined that they are incompetent or in need of constant supervision.
“Running an outfit like the DOW is no walk the park,” he nodded.
– Simian Tilte
Horseshoe Will Check Emotional Baggage
(Gunnison) In keeping with regulations set down by Homeland Security Agency, the San Juan Horseshoe will check the emotional baggage of all readers at the time of publication. The procedure, much like that at the airport, is particularly aimed at prohibited items such as weapons and expletives, but will also be looking for people smuggling cynicism into the paper as well.
Indications that potential readers harbor ill will toward security charades will be reported to the authorities immediately while any uncooperative attitude such as whispering, laughing at security personnel or negative body language will likewise be noted.
“We are particularly offended by persons rolling their eyes in response to questioning and chewing gum while in line,” said General Kashmir Horseshoe, publisher of the paper. “Last month we discovered Nicolas Maduro’s mustache attempting to sneak onto page 4. As it turned out the thing was in search of political amnesty but the very thought of terrorist activity sent shivers down our spineless accounting department.”
Readers accustomed to easy access will be inconvenienced with the boarding times lengthened by only a few minutes. Persons who fight the system will be detained and very likely denied entry altogether.
“We don’t care if you have a ticket and have never committed a felony,” continued Horseshoe. “As far as we’re concerned you are all potential terrorists and have no rights. The very fact that you might be reading is an indication that you do not support the efforts of the current Administration and should be deported.”
The paper will reportedly hire some 10,000 security people to man various departments where subversive element may linger. Subscription and advertising costs are expected to skyrocket but as Horseshoe says, “Unlike the gov’ment we cannot operate within a deficit spending mode. The new expenses are bad enough but what’s worse is going through all those suitcases. Our people aren’t trained for that sort of thing.”
-Pepper Salte
Deadline for hibernation permits draws near
(Bland Valley) Residents who wish to hibernate this winter have until Thursday to obtain official Colorado Hibernation Permits. The procedure is simple enough, as applicants must only stop by the nearest Division of Wildlife office to pick up the needed forms.
“We have begun to closely monitor hibernation since more and more people have expressed interest in this winter diversion,” said Melvin Toole, Director of Latent Dormancy for the Western Slope. “This, combined with the population explosion here, has made cave space a premium and has threatened to disrupt the peace and quiet enjoyed for centuries by innocent fur-bearing animals.”
In addition to a small fee, persons wishing to enter this torpid state must also undergo a hibernation safety course, which is offered on Saturdays until January.
“In effect, this is an extended deadline,” smiled Toole, “and we hope participants will be kind to our clerks when registering. We know you’re tired but getting testy with our people will only make matters worse.”
-FRED ZEPPELIN
RV Ascends Mt. Taco
(Ridgway) Just when you think the last RV has flown south for the rest of the winter the unexpected happens. Last night a 4500 foot, self-contained, Open Road RV successfully ascended 14,001-foot Mt. Taco in the San Juan Mountains. Driven by Beth and Walter Whisper of Sun City, Arizona, the slow-moving recreational vehicle reached the top at about 4 pm Rocky Mountain Time much to the relief of a line of traffic they had held up on County Road 5.
“Many of our neighbors thought it was Santa’s sleigh at first but the `I’m spending my children’s inheritance’ mud flaps gave it away,” said a local sheriff’s deputy who asked not to be associated with any of this.
Authorities have been in contact with the pilot and co-pilot (the Whispers) in an attempt to determine whether the feat was conducted by plan or if the visitors had simply lost their way on the trip back to Grand Canyon State. Either way it is hoped that the RV has been stocked with provisions since the earliest rescue is projected for late May.
It was not clear if the Whispers carried tire chains or sandbags on their epic (albeit foolhardy) journey.
DEER HITS ELK ON HIGHWAY 550
(Colona) A 250-pound mule deer collided with a 800-pound bull elk near here last night causing a few tense moments for motorists traveling home during rush hour. Although the incident had the earmark of a major disaster there were no serious injuries reported. Damage is estimated at about $3500 as the mule deer sustained some front-end damage and the elk suffered an electrical setback.
According to a ranger with the Division of Wildlife the accident was unavoidable and, since the hapless herd animals have no visible assets, no ticket was issued.
“It’s amazing that we don’t have more of this type of thing what with the lackadaisical migratory habits of these big galoots,” said the spokesperson. “They never look where they’re going but at least these bozos were wearing feet belts!”
The deputy declined to comment further as he was called off to investigate the presence of a rather large RV perched/stuck near the summit of Mt. Taco above the town of Ridgway.
EAT MORE ROUGHAGE, DOW WARNS DEER
(Denver) Wildlife experts over at the DOW on Broadway are warning deer to eat more roughage and avoid burning the candle at both ends during the winter months. Most of the animals, they insist, reach burnout point way before the spring thaw because they don’t take care of themselves.
“The level of decadence that gets them through the night can be just as dangerous as skiing or sky diving if one isn’t prepared both physically as well as mentally,” said a DOW pencil man on his way out to lunch.
Designated herds have already been enrolled in group therapy here where that move is appropriate according to sources on the Western Slope where deer are as thick as Kangaroos in Alice Springs. It is from within this pool that natural selection will determine “the chosen” who will enjoy the paradise that is summer in Colorado.
The overpopulation of deer and elk (not to mention mountain lions, moose and bear) near state and federal highways, and especially on county roads has always a nightmare for drivers after dark. Despite years of investigation (migration patterns) and millions of dollars spent (deer fence) to control the migrations of these beasts the problem has not been alleviated
“The way we see it we have two choices,” said Averill Fireaway, a spokesman for Elk Steak For Breakfast, “either we shoot the deer and have a bonanza barbecue or we go back to horseback and carriages.”
Most residents concede that deer fence helps but it is limited. Other parties are not so sure as Fireaway what direction to follow. Many feel the DOW is pampering the animals and yet they say let nature take its corpse.
-Fred Zeppelin
“Thanksgiving in Turkey”
TRAVEL ’25
Continued from in front of you
so that Bob (is that his name?) and I and the kids were pushed down onto the pavement and told to keep our eyes to the ground as the entourage passed by, snaking its way toward Mount Ararat and the grave of the Apostle Paul.
“Hey, mom,” said little Bennie, “says in this brochure that Turkey is larger than Texas. Is that for real?”
“No, stupid, it’s just all that jihad propaganda,” piped sister Beatrice from the pruned position. “Where did you get that brochure anyway?”
“Shut-up bitch,” said little Bennie. “Nobody’s talking to you!”
“Now kids, let’s try to put our hatreds aside. We’re miles from our hotel and not out of this yet,” said Dad. “These people are naturally friendly and engaging. They just have to get to know us. I thought St Paul was buried at Lookout Mountain…you know, with Buffalo Phil or someone.”
Finally, and not without more fanfare the procession passed. The strange men in robes told us to get up and walk to the east and we would find our hotel.
“I wanna see Noah’s Arc,” said Beatrice, “and the ancient city of Troy. What a beat vacation. All my friends in Chicago will laugh at me if they find out I came all the way to Turkey without…”
“Wait, daddy,” I said to my husband, “isn’t that the road to Istanbul, or is it the road to Constantinople? They must sell ottomans there. I just have to have an authentic Turkish ottoman or I’ll just die.”
“What about dinner?” whined Bennie. “We’ve been here three days and I haven’t seen a taco anywhere. Today is Thanksgiving. Where’s the stuffing?”
“Now Bennie,” said my husband, whose name eludes me just now, “this isn’t America. One has to adapt. Sure, all of these rug heads wish they were in America, the land of the free, but they aren’t. They’re marooned here in Asia Minor…have been for centuries. I thought you liked the filberts in barley sauce that mom cooked up last night.”
“I want pizza,” screamed Beatrice much to the chagrin of a large angry crowd that had now gathered, blocking our exit from behind one of a hundred mosques that crowd the cobbled square. “I hate filberts!”
“And where is the football!” demanded little Bennie. “Don’t these wanna be Tartar savages know that it’s Thanksgiving?”
“I hate tartar sauce too,” mumbled Beatrice, “and Kurds and whey…
“Stop!” cried daddy. “Look a fez stand right out here in the middle of nowhere. I think we should all take home a fez as a souvenir from this lovely trip. Say there sahib. How much for four fezzes…is that the proper term? Yeah, four…and don’t try to screw me. I’m an American and I have rights.”
At that he pulled out a U.S. fifty which the man selling the fez hats quickly grabbed and stashed in his robe. He smiled and then let go of the hats.
“Those hats look stupid,” said Beatrice, and for once her little brother agreed. We must have looked quite the sight wandering down those snarled filthy streets, sipping a Raki looking for some familiar signs of home.
“I have to pee,” said Bennie.
“We need to find a halkevi, or house of the people. Surely they will have indoor facilities…
“And cleanliness,” I crisply quipped.
“And a make-up mirror,” added Beatrice.
“And some good old American toilet paper,” smiled Daddy.
“We could ask someone,” I said melodically, swept up in the worldly banter of a man I no longer knew.
“None of these bozos talk American,” said Bennie
“Turkish isn’t so hard to learn,” said Dad as he wagged his finger at a would-be thief. “The Turks borrowed many Arabic and Persian words during the Ottoman Empire, then Kemal Ataturk changed the whole shootin’ match over to the Roman alphabet in 1928.”
“How does he know all that?” whispered Beatrice in my direction.
“Daddy was once a Middle East expert in of the Bush Administrations, dear,” I explained.
“It’s worthless information about a country that prefers figs to cranberry sauce, olives to pumpkin pie…”
“Shhhhh,” Bennie. Here come the mashed potatoes!”
As I looked up I saw thousands of men in the street. There were Turks from Ankara, Turks from Izmir, Turks from Cyprus. All were working together pushing a massive vat of freshly mashed potatoes, thinly veiled in Seljuk mohair, toward the largest of the mosques to the east of the square.
“Wow, dad!” said Bennie.
“Where are all the women?” asked Beatrice.
“Maybe they do celebrate Thanksgiving in Turkey,” I flinched.
“Look, kids. Look! It’s the march of the turkeys,” said Dad. “Look, honey, their coming this way. It’s going to be a wonderful holiday just like I told you. Honey? Honey? Hey, kids, where’s your mother?
“Oh, she was forced into that black Mercedes by two Turkish men who have been following us since yesterday,” said Beatrice.
“What? Forced into a car? gasped Daddy.
“Relax, man she’ll be back for dinner,” said Bennie.
– Luanne Julienne is a free-lance writer who lives in a big house in Connecticut. In addition to writing travel articles she raises amphetamines, which are then sold to collectors in New York
