Wizz–dumb of me, pt. XVIII

Santa Claus believers belong to a Cargo Cult.
! ! !
asphalt: unfortunate birth defect
rebuttal: a fanny transplant
? ? ?
I’m WAY past “out of control” and into “evil,” well on my way to “irredeemably depraved.” Got milquetoast?
* * *
Rectum? Dang near kilt ’em.
Compiler? I don’t even KNOW ‘er
? ? ?
Never write, “She thought to herself” unless the alternative (in your futuristic techno-dystopia) is, “She thought, by means of broadcasting the electromagnetic waves via the two-meter amateur radio band on the frequency 147.24 and hitting the repeater 35 miles away in order that the ‘thoughts’ could be retransmitted on her personal wavelength, propagated by line-of-sight for the most part, and so that they might be received by the antenna implanted in her skull by the aliens from Krakjob galaxy.”
! ! !
The world, according to Mayan legend, ends on my sister-in-law’s birthday, Dec. 22, Winter Solstice, 2012, so please redeem all WallyWorld gift cards by the end of November 2012 to allow one month for end-of-world processing. Thank you for shopping at WallyWorld!
@.@ @.@ @.@
Life is a one-way journey. Glance in the rear view mirror if you will, but keep in mind that it’s only for reference, not for a do-over.

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Author: shalanna

Shalanna: rhymes with "Madonna" and "I wanna," and is not a soundalike with "Hosanna" or "Sha-Na-Na." Aging hippie with long hair, husband, elderly mother, and yappy Pomeranian. I've been writing since I could hold a crayon. I started with fiction, which Mama said was "lying." “Don’t tell stories,” she would admonish, in Southern vernacular. “That's all in your imagination!” When grownups said this, they were not approving. So, shamed, I stopped telling stories for a few years--rather, I stopped letting anyone read them. I'm married to a fellow computer nerd who doesn't really like hearing about writing, but who reads sf/fantasy and understands the creative drive. I'm actually a nonconformist/hippie still wearing bluejeans and drop earrings and the Alice-in-Wonderland hair with headbands and sandals. Favorite flavor is chocolate/orange, favorite color is either Dreamsicle orange (cantaloupe) or bubble-gum pink, favorite musical is either Bye Bye Birdie, Rocky Horror, or The Producers . . . wait, I also love The Music Man. Is this getting way too specific and irrelevant yet? Obvious why I don't sell a ton of flash fiction, isn't it? To define oneself, I always say, it is good to make a list. How about a booklist? Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird Frank and Ernestine Gilbreth, Cheaper by the Dozen C.S.Lewis, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (all the Narnia books) J.R.R.Tolkien,The Hobbit/LORD OF THE RINGS trilogy Gail Godwin, The Odd Woman F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby J. D. Salinger, Catcher in the Rye (before dismissing it, actually read it) George Orwell, 1984 Kurt Vonnegut, Cat's Cradle Donna Tartt, The Secret History Mark Twain, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn James Allen, As A Man Thinketh Mark Winegardner, Elvis Presley Boulevard James Thurber, My Life and Hard Times The Wizard of Oz, L. Frank Baum Winnie-the-Pooh/House at Pooh Corner, A. A. Milne Peter Pan, J. M. Barrie The KJV and NIV Bible (each translation has its glories)

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