Author Archives: Sven Jissom

When is an oil not an oil

Do not waste random numbers — you may never see them again.

In the story, his movements were graceful, but he’s gone a tad limp in his game leg. Said the seamstress to the fly.

A hunk of rye and a thigh, said the fly, and zippity do-dah, zippity day.

His autopsy found that he was the only person of no particular distinction; but they overlooked his thumbs.

It is the first hand person to be born with two fingers, one on each.

But grandmother, did they have thumbs ?

No child, no thumbs.

Then how did they eat their chicken wings ?

They pressed the chicken button.

One day, among the two fingered people, a man came by sea. The very sight of the man killed an old dog.

Grandmother, tell us the tale. Tell how he cashed in on the two finger discount.

Ulysses bid farewell to his wife and to his son, child, and headed into the mountains with an oar over his shoulder. On the fourth day a farmer asked him about the shape of his blade, whether it was for winnowing. Ulysses went to supper that night with the farmer, who talked about his children: They were all working stiffs.

A works on the fab line for Bush Brothers Heavy Industries. All of Homeland’s contracts come through Bush Brothers.

B is a guard at the solar facility near Chomsky’s Last Stand, a joint venture of Homeland and Bush Brothers.

C is head of IT for the Betty Furness Woman’s Prison, a subsidiary of Bush and Clinton.

A, B, and C all live in Camp Silicon. They go to church at St. Obama of the Drones.

What’s a drone, grandmother?

The friars like to say that a drone is the harmonious effect of a single note. But we say “this drone’s for you.” Meaning watch your back. Like when the friars are upon you.

The farmer said he had one more child, D, who was harvested as a slave for Big Goo. But productivity constrained the number of slaves Big Goo could afford. The highest concentration was in the camps. It was careful not to bring the pool below the number needed to maintain the silicon fabrication facilities.

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Got a feeling

Got a feeling i got a touch of chronic wasting disease.
Some prion in the brain.
I’ll drink to that.

Fare thee well my fairy fay;
They buried him ‘neath a simmon tree;
His paragraph is there, you’ll see;
Beneath the shade he’s forced to lie,
All by the means of the blue-tail fly.
Jimmy Crack corn and I don’t care.
The master’s gone away.

Words of the Fairy God-fellow

Deck the hand with balls of palsey
Fettle your fish with fine fishery.

Three cheers for Christ’s own capitalist
— in the person of the father and of the son and of the holy ghost, amen —
and a festoon of fairy tales for the half-wit graduates of sunday school.

These as we know are the three great fallacies:
that god is dead
that there is a christian capitalist
that there are no holy murderers.

For if god is dead, who will bury the innocent?
And if there is a christian capitalist, is it one hump or two?
And if there were no holy murderers, would not god be as dead as the doorknob?

Maybe as they say god was killed by boredom and disgust.
Maybe the christian capitalist goes to church every sunday.
Maybe the holy murderer employs a cast of millions
to create enough euphemisms to get him through the eye.

When a lassie meets a laddie.
Needle in a haystack, two bits.

Bon mots

Pope’s nose: parts of a turkey
Botany Bay
That fly has ants in his pants. It’s a blue-tail fly.
He had one game leg and the other was a peckerwood stump. The main mast carried it off.
He took Miss Mousie across his lap. That’ll be the day that I die. Or be buried alive.
Wearing out their grinders working on the railroad.
Foot rope
Someone left a case of business cards out in the rain.
Octopus eyes
Someone else left a can of Copenhagen out in the sleet.
Gargantua and other delights
Oracles no longer given in verse
Jack Sparrow sent Sponge Bob out the spar to search for the golden rivet.
Everly bros
*demptiare (the asterisk designates a form not attested in texts)
The spuds are big on the back of that rig.
Feral children fear the Freudian undertow
Tincture
Halyards on the rigging. Sheets on the sail
Novel idea: Electrodes in brain. Cf. Death row.
Tear yourself away. That being said.
Muck stubble.
He landed funny.
If you catch my wind.