A Surly Disregard For All Things Couth @theelectricgnome-blog - Tumblr Blog

Posts

Gorax, the parent-kidnapping, evil, ugly-as-shit monster fuck from Caravan of Courage: An Ewok Adventure. This mean SOB lives up to his A-hole looks as a once in a lifetime diiiick. He takes his coffee with a dabble of cave dirt and a drizzle of your mother's blood. Gorax could give a fuck what you think about his chest hair loss. That patch is raw from using your FACE as a brillo pad for scratching his dermatitic annoyances. Oh please, go ahead and mention it. Just be ready to have your face exfoliated by the salty, wet, leather saddle he calls his breast. Once he's been relieved of all irritation, it's brunch time, during which...you lose. Not lose in the sense that you're gonna have to listen to him bitch about how he got really screwed on his tax return and end up feeling obliged to pay the entire bill. Oh no. Gorax has a new recipe from Bobby Flay, and you are his special ingredient. You are his mutton, and salted to perfection you shall be.

#Gorax #ewok adventure

Shape up, Crum Bum!!!

me: Hey dinglebud

me: you ain't busy, you're pickin goobers and everyone knows it

Chris: ha

what's up?

me: nada mucho

You?

Chris: my legs hurt... i drank too much

me: did you run a marathon afterwards?

Chris: nope i did offer a bum some life advice

me: How'd he take it?

Chris: alright

i was also supplying him with ciggies

so he had to keep an open mind to keep his nicotine itch well scratched

Chris: mostly what I said was that he's living in the past and not thinking in complete 3D. I

pointed out that his duds were relics and he should probably consider switching into more futuristic clothes with velcro and no buttons.

He didn't protest and he was not stingy with the aggressive shoulder squeezes

me: hahahahaha

Get him some futuruistic duds to put him ahead of the game. Five years from now he'll cackling at us at his lofty success

Chris: seriously though,

he was a mad man

yellowed teeth, a real hairy neck

looked like his head hair was slowly sliding down and eventually he'd have a nice thick head of hair between his shoulder blades

breath that could've anesthetized a herd of musk ox

and unfortunate pock marks and acne scars

needless to say I was squeezing him right back getting right in his face

me: I ain't afraid of no CRUMMY BUM!!!

Chris: Bums are a problem I try to fix daily

and i aint passing out lollies or wiping crusty tushes

I squish em and break em

and if they're worthy I help them put themselves back together.

From there I give them two options:

Get yourself together, man or...

STAY THE HELL OUTTA MY SITE!!!!!!!!

me: Don't you go gettin' all gushy on me CRUM BUM!!! Sort out your life or head back into the alley-way you SCALLYWAG!!!

Chris: Alley-way nothing... if they choose option B. One night per month I take old Barty D. Hickory (that's my bum club's name) out of his case and.... I go A-LOOKING

Chris: It's a like a horrible game of hide and seek: If I've given you a talking to and I lay eyes on you still being a bum, whether it's out in the open or hiding in a trash can... things'll be getting pulpy mighty fast!!!!

Chris: I bang on my trash can lid armor to let em know I mean business and to scare em...

I'll smash their tail bones and crunch there little sternums

TOUGH LOVE ( a poem - editor )

TOUGH LOVE

Told you I'd come looking

Ought not to be bumming

Ugly old bum

Guess Who?!!

HAHA gotcha!

Listen to BARTY D!!!!

Oh man I'm just getting warmed up

Very Quiet or it's double duty

Easy does it bum, better change your tune

Chris: like my poem?

me: HEY CRUM BUM!!! DIDN'T I TALK TO YOU LAST WEEKEND!!?? AND NOW I SEE YOU PICKIN' YOUR YOMPERS WITH A FISH SKELETON!!??

SINCE YOU WON'T LISTEN TO ME, YOU CAN TALK TO BARTY-D!!!

Chris: hahahaha... now you've got it

It's not that I MIND you not listening...

ITS JUST BARTY D. DONT LIKE IT ONE BIT!!!!!

........

robotindisguise

theelectricgnome-blog

robotindisguise:

Just having a diabeetus pity party here in these rocks.

Sweetie Beans Hates Spiders

Colleen is my younger sister. Like most post-college, twenty somethings, the mere thought of exotic and dangerous spiders existing in places as remote as New Zealand is enough to have her shimmying to the top of a flag pole and screeching for the Coast Guard. As a point of reference, a "katipo" is a breed of spider native to New Zealand closely resembling the Black Widow. I researched it for the sole purpose of tormenting Colleen. As an additional note, Colleen can be easily tricked into googling an image of the unknown spider in hopes of catching a glimpse of a tasty treat she's never tried...

ALEX: Happy St. Paddy's ya fresh little rascal!

COLLEEN: im gonna eat so much corned beef it nots even gonna be funny

ALEX: I want corned beef pizza NOW

COLLEEN: WHAT?! never heard of such a delight!

ALEX: doesn't that place in Hamden have some?

COLLEEN: what place uuuuugh!

ALEX: Ask mom, she was the one who told me about it!

COLLEEN: lies!

ALEX: I want a katipo!

COLLEEN: what. is. that?!?!?!

ALEX: look it up! ..........

COLLEEN: I JUST WHINED SO MANY PROFANITIES

COLLEEN: WHAT THE NUGGET YOU DICK SLAPPER!?!?!

ALEX: I'm crying from laughter!

COLLEEN: i was thinking it was a corned beef perogi

COLLEEN: sounds polish with a bit of irish brogue

COLLEEN: i HATE spiders cant even look my feet are being held off the ground right now

ALEX: I envisioned you itching your neck and peering over your back in fright

COLLEEN: you put the ick in dick

ALEX: Bwet bwet bwet!

Bird Brains, All of You!

I drew this one night above the urinal at a favorite watering hole. It's still there.

Whispy In The Woods. Part 1

The other day I had just got done washing my privates in the Querfberry Creek, minding my own GODDAMN salty business when some of the local youth approached me. They looked real querlike with their fancy bicycles and shiny heelmuts. I suppose they noticed my "desperate" state and earthen smell, so they thought it right to have a go with me.

"GIT!!" I said, as I gathered my widdling accessories and traveling sacks. These two rapscallions seemed unfazed by my git. The dumpier of the two extended his hand (he was lucky I didn't rip it off) with a bag fulla dirt. An intriguing prospect we have here. He opened his sassy food whole and spoke "you wanna brownie? We've got an extra. You know what a brownie..." "I KNOW WHAT A GODDAMN BROWNIE IS!!" I barked lied. Brownie sounds like a disgusting, vile, wicked place I ought not speak of. But this cornbread looking turd smelled like pecan pie. And I wanted me some Piiie. I ate the whole ding dong thing right in front of those scallawags, grabbed my saccessories and darted into the forest like a marsupial possessed. "See you in hell, turnip heads!!" I cackled (note: to "cackle" is defined as "To make the shrill cry characteristic of a hen after laying an egg." I have often had nightmares of this since I was a boy). Their faces were in awe of both my shrewd thankless nature and deceptive agility.

I scuttled down past the creek. Like a dog in the summer heat, I had to catch my breath. "Clever cartload a monkeys you are, Whispy" I hissed as I gathered my unkempt self. I packed my tobacco pipe and made my way on over to Duckybutt Road to strut my stuff.

Skippin' down Duckybutt, I started to feel real uneasylike. Another snakebite perhaps? No, this was something new. Something unknown. My vision soon succumbed to a magical haze. My world soon fell into a spellbinding complexity of peat moss and dirt.

“Good gravy almighty shit in heaven…those backsliders were local wizards in disguise.” I muttered. I rubbed some gravel in my face to make make sure I was still alive. I have no idea why I thought that would indicate whether or not I was alive, but I did it. The heat and the buzzing of cicadas started to befuddle ole Whispy’s head. Worried that those wizardly shits would find me again, I thought it best to get off the road and take to the woods. Before I knew it I had come face to face with two demons.

I nearly shit myself at the sight of them. Eyes black as molasses, speaking in tongues, dashing to and fro. Bursting into tears, I howled obscenities at them. I quickly found some good mud and painted a cross on my head brow and chest to ward off any further magical darkness that may come my way. Your once cunning Whispy was reduced to a pile of cowardly dog shit. Lacking the testicular fortitude to face my realities, I found a bed of dandelions on which I could enjoy a moment of peace.

To be continued...

Nuttin' but mutton

HAPPY FRIDAY!!! EAT IT BURGLEKUTT!!

Someone's Hungry

Dickleby! FRESH!!!

Thursday Poetry

Here's something for the womanfolk visitors which according to my estimation we've got about a gross of right now. A poem I entered in a contest about a year ago. It's a haiku and if you're thinking of counting syllables and telling me I'm wrong, you can go suck an egg. I read a pamphlet on Japan once.

A Moustache is Grand

Thick Black Fuzz or Light Blonde Wisps

Any Type Will Impress!

Finally!

I've been waiting YEARS for this. My very own DENIM BLANKET! A solution to so many of my bedtime inconveniences. A blanket I don't need to feel guilty about wiping my drizzling honker on, just like I do with my jeans jacket. A blanket rough and tumble enough to wrap myself up into a burrito in and roll down Mr. Huber's hill into the orchard. A blanket which I can be proud of having grass stains all over for once! And with a convenient collection of pockets which are ideal for stashing nighttime treats, light bulbs and holy water for warding off my chronic night terrors! Hopefully they'll come out with one in black so I can alternate quilts on a bi-annual basis.

It's time for our Ask-a-Hobo segment! Let's all welcome the Illustrious Steampipe Willy to The Electric Gnome!

Peter from Fremont, MI asks - "Hi Willy, I've always wondered what someone uses as a pillow when sleeping in a boxcar?"

Steampipe Willy - "A pillar is a luxury ol' Willy doesn't normally enjoy. I rested my head against a sack of turnips once for a haul outta Duluth. That was pretty good. But I reckon you're thinking I sleep on my tug bundle, eh? And you think I might tell you what's in it, too? Old Willy may have been born at night, but I wasn't born LAST NIGHT YOU SAD SACK OF PRAIRIE CUD!! Don't bother to duck next time you're riding the roof of the Eastern Rail and you're heading for a tunnel you SCAB!"

Earle of Bellingham, WA asks - "What do you do for warmth in the winter time?"

Steampipe Willy - "That all depends. Where do you live?"

Luke from St. Paul, MN asks - "Don't you ever get lonely traveling all by yourself?"

Steampipe Willy - "Old Willy’s been a lone wolf since the day he was born and bein’ lonely is a way of life. And it don’t bother me one bit. Why the hell else do you think I keep referrin’ to myself in the third person you BAKE BRAIN?! Maybe you’d like to come ride with Old Willy for a stretch? You could sponge me down when my sores start itchin’ and fix me a cookfire when my tummy starts talkin’? Does that sound good? I didn’t think so you pietaster! Don’t you crap in my mouth and tell me it’s a GOD DAMN SUNDAE!!"

The Electric Gnome - "Thanks for stopping by, Willy".

Steampipe Willy - "Go eat a shit sandwich, you SAP!"

Something for Everyone

Just thought I'd relay a short anecdote to you lovely folks about Mother Nature's fickle temperament. I was out last night peeping in some of my neighbors' windows. Now it's still a bit cold in Massachusetts, so the odds are against me finding any fresh windowsill pie, but as an excellent consolation I have a shortlist of neighbors who enjoy a good pudding for dessert. And I certainly enjoy watching ladyfolks eat their pudding.

Anyways, there I was wearing a pudding grin a mile wide, pressed close and putting a mighty breath of steam on the pane, when all of sudden I got a goodly strong urge to take a tinkle. Not one to argue with those who send me all of my earthly urges, I dropped trow lickety split. In the midst of what was surely a glorious piss, I felt a sharp burn and next thing I know I am staring towards the heavens, flat on my back with a healthy-thick stream of yellow man-dew slapping softly on my cotton tee shirt. As near as I could figure I'd been taking a whiz on some sort of electric device. Ain't Mother Nature wild?

Greetings fellow travelers of the rails! Steampipe Willy's the name and I've been wanderin' proper since I fell out of my mama's tug bundle. I wouldn't have it any other way! I've been a lot of places and seen a lot of things in my day. I've weathered hard luck and had my share of good fortune too. I'd like to take this opportunity to answer some questions from curious folks wantin' to know how us wanderin' folk live. So ask away! As as soon as I finish sponging my fanny, I'll give you an answer. And NO, I will not tell you where I buried that coffee can fulla pennies, you god damn SWINDLER!

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

A Surly Disregard For All Things Couth