Sunday, February 27, 2005


A new addition to the Big Book of Bunkum:

blunderboss (adj.) descriptive of a senior person of straw with one minor finagling flaw and no "Get Out of Jail Free" card

e.g. The judge listened intently as the mustard plaster mogul (dressed in a custom-fitting, pin-stripped blunderboss suit) explained how he climbed out of his great honking Hummer one fine summer's day to survey the grand scheme of things, (having taken the wrong exit off the Yellow Brick Expressway and ended up in Heffalump Country); naturally, he did the only thing he could do -- pull out his GPS whatchamacallit to circumnavigate the fact that he was utterly lost and had but one realistic option: pinning the blame for this unfortunate predicament on the back of some truculent tin man in a toll booth, plus a depressing dunderhead with a missing tail named Eeyore, and the fateful conjunction of three planets Mercury, Venus and Uranus in in a moonbeam resulting in accusations of marital misconduct, malodorous money-laundering, and something about a small discrepancy in the celestial balance sheet of Pisces for the year 2004.

Contributed by: Martha Muskeg, a full-time fly-swatting manager, part-time ecdysiast, and casual music-box operator at the Mute Swan & Naughty Pine Legion Hall in Pelican Narrows, Saskatchewan

Thursday, February 24, 2005


A new addition to the Big Book of Bunkum:

musheteer (n.) a timid bedfellow addicted to pot-boiler pulp fiction magazine articles and soft-cover knight-in-shining-armor/damsel-in-distress connubial castle bliss novels

e.g. It was one of those fabled Bollywood Cinderella stories about a Prince of passionate glances (a wealthy, worldly, somewhat flashy, hollow lifestyle hero with the unfortunate habit of preening himself far too often in front of long mirrors), a stunningly gorgeous but simperingly chaste snob in a sari surrounded by oodles of extras singing from shop windows or some odd characters tripping the light fantastic around a hurly-burly street in Calcutta ...but Rottweiler Jutland, an avid musheteer, summoned his strength of mind in order to make his way through the labyrinth of complicated subplots not to mention fully appreciate a plethora of throwaway observations regarding grrrrl power that would undoubtedly appeal to people who otherwise might not read romance novels.

Contributed by: Nordkraft Ejersbo, a professional trainspotter and weary wallaby trainer from Coodardy, Western Australia

Sunday, February 20, 2005


A new addition to the Big Book of Bunkum:

botoxicated (adj.) descriptive of artificially seductive eyelids, lewd laugh lines, or libidinous loose lips

e.g. Grenadine Shrewsbury, (a frustrated optimist with a devil-may-care-attitude in a dead-end job as a happiness-challenged bartender at a rather seedy West Hollywood dive), realized that she needed help to extricate herself from a buxom botoxicated bar-fly named Wilhelmina Vegas (who was caught like a moth on a piece of fly-paper) in the company of one "Billy-Bob Briggs", (a part-time lounge lizard and law school dropout who suffered from a mild case of the plague complicated by lingering halitosis not to mention malignant midlife crisis, but appreciated a pretty pair of shades and fishnet stockings when he saw them).

Contributed by: Wolfgang Liverpool, a bald bookworm and boring bachelor whose days as a Celtic flute player were clearly over, until through the magic of transfiguration, he found his true calling as a flying carpet repairman in Kabul, Afghanistan

Thursday, February 10, 2005


A new addition to the Big Book of Bunkum:

liva voce (n.) the lingering echo sound (made by a rousing morning shower songstress or a ditty dandy) that tends to reverberate or bounce off porcelain tiles and glass walls in a wild and wooly manner

e.g. Having doffed his flannel pajamas none to soon in order to commence his early morning ablution ritual, Bacchus Tyrwhitt-Fectue decided it was an opportune moment to reflect on two vital life-issues: (1) why had he purchased a pair of flannel pajamas on sale with a convenient trap-door on the backside and decorated with an odd combination of ubiquitous smiley faces chasing little pink salamanders? and (2) why had he ended up as a government drone in a dead-end, cog-in-a-wheel post with precious little hope of becoming “Employee of the Month”?, (which led to yet another equally perplexing problem as to why the remnants of liva voce were prompting him to consider expanding his haunting musical repertoire ?... perhaps more in keeping with his milquetoast mood).

Contributed by: Lucretius Pichetshotte, a remarkable individual from Peekskill, (an unusual place just north of Yonkers, New York), who can do three astounding and completely unrelated things all at once: think cleverly inside a box, play a flutophone with his left hand, and juggle with apparent ease, three gizzard-shaped bouncing balls with his right foot)

Monday, February 07, 2005


A new addition to the Big Book of Bunkum:

zapple (n.) a microwave oven without any juice

e.g. The Digital Age may have arrived, but for one analog and angst-ridden, poor starving soul named Rueena Tutbone, (who incidentally became deleriously sidetracked while exploring her woman's inner dialogue), a swarm of cursors and a wireless mouse unfortunately could not revive her zapple sufficiently for her to cook her favorite comfort food -- Kraft macaroni dinner, garnished with a sprig of tasteless but healthy green seaweed, and served with a rather large dollop of hot popcorn slathered in melted goat's cheese.

Contributed by: Otto "Knuckles" Hoolboom, a kick-ass custodian, (who frequently loses his grip on reality enough to double as the disembodied voice of a news anchor known by fans as, "The Grim Reaper", on 66.3 FM radio in Kickapoo, Illinois)

Thursday, February 03, 2005


A new addition to the Big Book of Bunkum:

flabbid (adj.) descriptive of a politically-active, socially-conscious, jelly belly muscle movement that finds support among devoted television shopping channel viewers who wish to lose weight so they can don their sparkly spandex body suits with ease, fit conveniently and carefreely into airplane seats, computer chairs and dental recliners without accidentally setting off any alarm bells, or coach their favorite sports team from the comfort of a couch without any fear of recrimination from sideline critics or backseat drivers

e.g. Flossie Gore, (a died-in-the-wool knitting enthusiast, a part-time coupon clipper, and a fastidious Aquarian homemaker), had absolutely no idea that her flabbid friends would be so concerned about her bawdy outlook on life and slawterpooch appearance that they would consider purchasing a spanking-new, state-of-the-art, mobile, rubber-reinforced index-finger workout treadmill (backed by a 90-day warranty including a full money-back-guarantee-with-no-questions-asked) for presentation on the occasion of her unprepossessing, entirely inconsequential, otherworld thirty-ninth birthday party sleep-over.

Contributed by: Harriet Pimpernel, a full-time flamethrower and dedicated fizzle-stick collector from Worms, Nebraska (and former Mayor, Chief of Police, and Official Dog Catcher of Beaver Lick, Kentucky)

Wednesday, February 02, 2005


A new addition to the Big Book of Bunkum:

thinkle-hitch (n.) a runaway train of thought that stops dead in its tracks for no apparent reason whatsoever

e.g. The cupboard door opened surreptitiously while a can of broccoli and cheese soup stood by watching helplessly as a rather large box of dried prunes (caught caressing a pumpernickel loaf) fell off the shelf landing sideways on a banana peel, (that happened to be lying conveniently on a well manicured floor -- well before the thinkle-hitch had a chance to hail a dimly-lit shooting star passing by in search of her destiny as a high-school prom King or Queen, based on her current bank balance and sparkly remainder items found at Sam's Club).

Contributed by: Hernando Onsworth Punic, resident of Middle Musquodoboit, Nova Scotia and best-selling author of an eclectic, esoteric, and ever-so entertaining epileptic thriller based on life in a tiny town of topsy-turvy no one even knew existed entitled, "Top-Secret Tempest In -- A Teapot, A Toaster, or Was It A Trashcan? -- Only time will tell..." followed by a slick, spell-binding sequel called, "The Mystery of Long-Lost Socks in the Dryer".