Banana Hamsters

Sometimes, the middle is at the end.  Like in a grapefruit.  When you get to the end of a grapefruit, you're really at the middle.  Or, when you get to the middle, you're really at the end.  Either way, you can eat a grapefruit to find out.  

Today's entry is brought to you by the letter H, which starts such words as shoe, golfer, and tremendously.  

You may not know this, but I once grew to forty times your size.  It was absolutely riveting.  I couldn't fit into my shoes, or anybody else's.  

Today's entry is brought to you by the letter H, which starts such numbers as 4, 19, and 2042.  

You may not know this, but ants can sometimes sing hymns.  You just have to listen very closely.  Not too close, though.  They don't like that.  

A study of Bach

Earlier today, I decided that I had grown tired of my heart.  So I had it replaced with a mouse.  

I went to the doctor.  He pressed his stethoscope against my chest and he looked concerned.  

"What's wrong, Doctor?" I asked.  
He answered, "Your heart is squeaking."  
"That is because it is not my heart, it is a mouse."  
"Ah," he replied.  

Content-Free

What is content-free blogging?  

It is love without death.  
Life without suffering.  
Peace without sorrow.  
Heaviness without seriousness.  
Cake without icing.  
Hot fudge without delicious.  
Snowballs without medicine.  

It is the feeling that you get when you open a newspaper and realize that you don't have your glasses on.  
It is the sensation of knowing everybody in a room except for one guy sitting in a corner.  
It is the revelation of delicious cheese.  

It is cheesecake without icing.  
It is hot fudge without suffering.  
It is heaviness without blogging.  

Something in another language would sound totally serious here.  
Like a puppy full of cement balloons.  
Like a metaphor that has run its course.  
Like a simile that has hijacked the metaphor.  
Like a blog-post that I don't know how to end without sounding too serious.  

You are nothing more or less than all of the words that you don't know how to spell.  

It is spelling without clogging.  
It is clogging without reason.  
It is reason without season.  
It is season without treason.  
It is treason without shmeason.  

Janet Jackson reads this blog.  What else do you have in common with Janet Jackson?  

A Violin Made of Cake

Such an instrument would probably fall apart and become unplayable.  But delicious.  

There are no hidden messages here.  Move around, folks.  

Torbital.

Like an orbit, but with torsion.  

The word of the day is Z.  Some sample Z words:  

Zylophone

Zoron

Zerene

Zalad

Zuper

Zis

Zat

Zee oZer

Zwing

Ziss boom bah

Zneeze

Zeven

Zix

Zree

Zoup

Zurich

Zelephant

I forgot what a tog is, but I'll never forget you.

Somebody read my blog.

Unprecedented.

You may leave comments, but keep it content-free. And cryptic.

In the year 1892, Jon Smith landed in America and invented colors. At first, he only invented three colors - Red, White, and Blue - which thus became the colors of the American flag (Canadians, impatient, made their flag before blue was finished). Soon, it was discovered that by combining these colors in just the right quantities, one could create the sound of horns, hot bass lines, and switch the downbeat and the upbeat. And thus the age of big pimpin' arrived. The next year, Ben Franklin discovered electricity, creating the color yellow. Then Ben Franklin was bitten by a radioactive Mexican wrestler, which caused him to grow big and powerful, creating the color green, which allowed for such innovations as Godzilla, frogs, and green tea, which had previously been colored purple.

Would you make a log of my blog?

I will make a blog of your log.  

What is a tog?  

Neat.  I'm going to use that in conversation, starting now.