from the vaults, for the hollidays...

HAPPY SPANKSGIVING

(Spank). Whether you spank for pleasure or
punishment, or both as situations warrant, I
wish you all a Happy Spanksgiving season.

Spank hard...spank safe!

Too many carbohydrates in Italy . . . Jamaica it is!
I'm thankful for big spoons and floors!
HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY ROCKSTAR!

Spank hard...spank safe!

What better place to spend an Autumn weekend
but in a lingeree drawer. Happy Spanksgiving.
You are repressed but you're remarkably dressed is it real?

Spank hard...spank safe!

Typical. I do all the work and the “King” gets
the credit. Happy Spanksgiving! Two In the
Moonlight, Ack! Antelope! I could use a breath mint.

Spank hard...spank safe!

Personality and I are finally getting along.
Happy belated Spanksgiving to all by the way!
I had a nice time in michigan...sunny ...

Spank hard...spank safe!

Wrestling last night with the thought of upcoming
Spanksgiving and the dramas throughout the years
that have got to be my shiner-heaven! hoo-Ray!

Spank hard...spank safe!

Strokers! Get ready for the fuckfeast –– Snap up
a batch of man gravy and pour it all over our
Starlets' frisky biscuits! Have I found the other side???

Spank hard...spank safe!

Now Ride! By now a lot of people are showing
up for their holiday weekend in the desert. A large
contingent at the retail store for "Leather Happy Hour."

Spank hard...spank safe!

The only Turkeys I'll be seeing this Spanksgiving are my dear
friends Brook, Katie and Baby Richy. I was very happy
to help them mark this moment in their family's growth.

Spank hard...spank safe!

We got lots more smut in store for you all month long!
(And on a school night, nonetheless!) I had to kill
them to make them happy or some shit.

Spank hard...spank safe!

A ball, peeking out from behind rows and rows
of empty happy meal boxes ... know what the hell
they are doing :) Oh and everyone have a SpanksGiving!!!!!

Spank hard...spank safe!

As the sun warmed the sleepy canyon, our happy-dappy
little camp began to stir . Something that'll make a cat
happy? A wonderful day of spanking and sucking!

Spank hard...spank safe!

Lists make me happy. ... my vietnam [Nov 21,
12.06am] spanksgiving this week = less time at work
and more time being a weirdo = yay!

Spank hard...spank safe!

A very fine woman I used to know down a few
times guy-style in our new deluxe supersize happy
tub and Sternum in the bathroom the other day.

Spank hard...spank safe!

I'm still catching my breath as I take my seat,
happy that sixty seconds of effort just was another
raging success. So tomorrow's the yankee spanksgiving.

Spank hard...spank safe!

And have a Happy Spanksgiving y’all!!!!

3 tercets of numerical flarf

1 2 1 1 91

92 2 7 4

1 523 1

1 0 1 1 34 0

3 414 0 2 1

7 8 0 3 18 4 1

1 1 1 1 1 9 5 1

4 17 1 1 1 1 1

1 1 1 1 1 1 5 5 3

Infinity Revisited

As I said to my Spontaneously Obese Rat Friend, I said

The aim of this poem is to assess weather produced from rat feed, grain,

and four doses. The study used 480 male and female rats

and their little rat cell phones (under Simulated Microgravity)

which did not have cancer. One will study acupuncture.

The other will look at the old rats. Words from the Simon

and Garfunkle song incorporated into rat their rat anterior pituitary

Like a rat in a maze, the path before me &

One rat out of 23 failed to develop &

Hooked heads of little rodent swimmers &

For the student of behavioral study; or; a pet rat keeper

this book is tops!~

Cell Phones Don't Cause Cancer, Rat Finds God, OBVIOUSLY

THAT RAT

should not perform mechanistic multigenerational neuroscientists

anymore. In one of these studies, Yamagata et al.

The mean live weight. Cultured at 5%.

RAT TUMOR CELLS! RAT TUMOR CELLS! which clearly means:

Ben comma (acapella) uncomma

*Hints* that one drink a day during pregnancy may be dangerous.

the apoptosis OF EITHER

tail or ears

. in rats . the IC rat 4-day oral toxicity

and approximate lethal doses

at checkout.

Voltage-sensing Domain and Peptide Gating

exhibited its first typical "neurotic pattern" outside

one of the funnier case studies i have i mean

they're fucking rats for crying out loud. give a rat a chance

they're fucking rats

These include the finding of nasal proliferative lesions in a rat

of KFC

IN. RAT. TISSUES .... one epi. the other the

the finding of nasal

branches

from the PUBLIC LIBRARY OF SCIENCE. period.

Study of a Breast. period. the

Cancer Rat Model with Compound the

Reports of well-performed scientific studies from all

times indicated

Can Supplements Improve Aging?

(The rats were randomly assigned to consume one of four

experimental diets)

Release from Rat Mast!

and the Mouse ...

Lipid in Zucker

and the Mouse ...

Lipid in Zucker

Tables 1-6 show the results obtained

vivo accumulation in a rat prostate

air at

corticoste. ... behavior

phosphatidylethanolamine binding

one rat died and another was euthanized

One limitation of the study, the researchers said,

one rat died and another was euthanized, the researchers said,

Four succumbed to pressure, and only one survived.

etc.

Even Slower Poetry

YOU TURN ME ON (I'M AN XBOX 360)

YOU TURN ME ON (I’M AN XBOX 360)

If you're on anxietypaniclog
you're reading stolen content
Hey, Huffy i hope you DOMINATES
hey baby you must be a light switch

who's bound to have access to TNT
to hit treys when he’s open
LiveEye on StormSurge
Seeing things through your head

Oh honey, destroy all humans!
On today’s yuppie Path of the Furon
The things I could do to you
With a Pulitzer Prize and some Polish art!

I’m a little bit dodgy fanboy
I’m a little bit addicted
torn on this one, to be honest:
The Dark Side of Paradise: Burnout

Waving to you from the top of an oak tree
Waving to you from behind a desk
In love you go blind and your thumbs fall off
Like a firedancer falling off a bar

I know you don't like wrestling, per se,
but if you wanna see Australia
it’s in this DDR bundle
like the cuss in a famous book

And I know you don’t like small wrestlers
Promoting Nazis, but fans do!
Because they’ve sold out their inner child
To police a gator people

I come when you take new people
When you’re eventually released
When you select them / do attacks with them
When you whisper “Ya estan vendiendo”

But if you're worried about the bacteria
if your arms are a Britishness
pull baby pink gears of war, baby
start in a nice cheap pad

Cause who needs the Power Cheat Code
When you’ve got the widgets and sticks
It hurts the concept of stealth
And you wind up more plodding than zipping

And you can’t tell the FORZA MOTORSPORT
From the massive Black Friday headache
Look at Vista: what a nightmare!
What a sorry assed prize to win

I’m going to tell you again now
If You're Going Out I'm Going Out
Who loves a wookie in parachute pants?
Who loves us the most?

If you’re laying your 360 vertically
If you’re laying face down and you kip
Laying waste to hundreds of zombies
Kick your screwattack sponsor for me

If your head says it invented avatars
But your heart is wet for Halo
Call me at the inappropriate female times
The lines are impossible

Hot Flarf Search Trends, November 2008

HONK! HONK!

from the vaults...

HAPPY SPANKSGIVING

(Spank). Whether you spank for pleasure or
punishment, or both as situations warrant, I
wish you all a Happy Spanksgiving season.

Spank hard...spank safe!

Too many carbohydrates in Italy . . . Jamaica it is!
I'm thankful for big spoons and floors!
HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY ROCKSTAR!

Spank hard...spank safe!

What better place to spend an Autumn weekend
but in a lingeree drawer. Happy Spanksgiving.
You are repressed but you're remarkably dressed is it real?

Spank hard...spank safe!

Typical. I do all the work and the "King" gets
the credit. Happy Spanksgiving! Two In the
Moonlight, Ack! Antelope! I could use a breath mint.

Spank hard...spank safe!

Personality and I are finally getting along.
Happy belated Spanksgiving to all by the way!
I had a nice time in michigan...sunny ...

Spank hard...spank safe!

Wrestling last night with the thought of upcoming
Spanksgiving and the dramas throughout the years
that have got to be my shiner-heaven! hoo-Ray!

Spank hard...spank safe!

Strokers! Get ready for the fuckfeast -- Snap up
a batch of man gravy and pour it all over our
Starlets' frisky biscuits! Have I found the other side???

Spank hard...spank safe!

Now Ride! By now a lot of people are showing
up for their holiday weekend in the desert. A large
contingent at the retail store for "Leather Happy Hour."

Spank hard...spank safe!

The only Turkeys I'll be seeing this Spanksgiving are my dear
friends Brook, Katie and Baby Richy. I was very happy
to help them mark this moment in their family's growth.

Spank hard...spank safe!

We got lots more smut in store for you all month long!
(And on a school night, nonetheless!) I had to kill
them to make them happy or some shit.

Spank hard...spank safe!

A ball, peeking out from behind rows and rows
of empty happy meal boxes ... know what the hell
they are doing :) Oh and everyone have a SpanksGiving!!!!!

Spank hard...spank safe!

As the sun warmed the sleepy canyon, our happy-dappy
little camp began to stir . Something that'll make a cat
happy? A wonderful day of spanking and sucking!

Spank hard...spank safe!

Lists make me happy. ... my vietnam [Nov 21,12.06am]
spanksgiving this week = less time at work
and more time being a weirdo = yay!

Spank hard...spank safe!

A very fine woman I used to know down a few
times guy-style in our new deluxe supersize happy
tub and Sternum in the bathroom the other day.

Spank hard...spank safe!

I'm still catching my breath as I take my seat,
happy that sixty seconds of effort just was another
raging success. So tomorrow's the yankee spanksgiving.

Spank hard...spank safe!

And have a Happy Spanksgiving y'all!!!!

FLARF BEAT!

"Best thought, worst thought"
Vol 1 No 1

Featuring
"A unicorn boner for humanity" by Sharon Mesmer

Your Problems with FLARF

"Mohammad Vs Mesmer"
A review of "Dalek Boner and Steepleflower"
Michael Magee's Latest Apologies
"I Google Myself"

this is it... don't miss your chance to PARTY WITH THE FLARF POETS!
Get in on the "ground floor" and write for a free subscription:
flarfbeatATgmailDOTcom

DONATION FOR THE LORD

DONATION FOR THE LORD
From: Millicent Person

PLEASE ENDEAVOUR TO USE IT FOR THE CHILDREN OF THE GREY BROOKLYN DAWN.

I am Mr. Potatohead who worked at home with what the Bible is really against: The fact that most people waste my time as unavailable avatars of sheer light and make the only reward for working on anything the sole Wiccian action of bookshelves.

When my late spouse was alive he/she secured $15Million (Fifteen Million U.S. ELI LILLY Dollars) with financial institution here in Cote D'Ivoire. Presently, this money is still with me in house here in Brooklyn. I can't stand to gaze into it.

What do you do when you haven't read most of this stuff because it doesn't sound like people who look like you hanging out with each other in the sixties? The ridiculousness of being alive is occasionally musky in unremarkablness but the act will empower you as the original beneficiary of the fuzzbox. I want you to go away for me because God's work is trying to seduce in some way that is not understandable.

I don't need any telephone communication in this regard because I can use bees as telephones, and because a few years ago, I asked Chomsky if he thought people should dress like Elvis in public. I want a great thinker who also hosts a free-form alternative church of the individual that will use this money to fund other churches, cheeses and windows.

Strength is being a person, thinking all other people except you exert a gravitational force -- an invisible seer whose vision is undistracted by pyramids of satisfaction that derive from interest payments with no principal in the ways you bug out, unlike Marx and Engels' boys rooms, the room is trying to scold a community that that never existed in the first place. To any child that will inherit this crap: I don't want my hard earned money to be misused by unbelievers.

There was no host, people of cannibalism's ineluctable desire. Cannibalism is already working in total disregard of, or abject resistance to, the okay lived life by any worldly person. Who ever wants to serve people must serve the guy shooting up in the bathroom. (heroin = authenticity). Say something to the next person you would kill and pee on if all social constraints were suddenly withdrawn, Quaker-style, when anyone is moved to speak. All events should end when a patrol car with my face painted on it pulls up on the offending person the way the corpses surrounding my house are pulling up and hatefully ogling my success without really pursuing any achievements of their own. Any delay in your reply will give the remains a blessed name.

POETRY BLOGGERS

POETRY BLOGGERS

Like kittens and puppies, poetry bloggers must be taught not to nip. A poetry blogger shouldn't be vicious or bite, but poetry blogger play does include mock combat, and young ones won't know how hard they can put their teeth on you without hurting you. A playing blogger may run at you with his mouth open or even put his teeth on your hand, but if he presses down hard enough to hurt, you need to discipline him. Just remember, bloggers aren't malicious, they just need to learn what behavior is acceptable.

A very few otherwise calm, gentle poetry bloggers will react in an extreme way to a high-pitched glittering noise such as a squeaky toy (perhaps only one particular toy) or the sound of rubbing fingers on a window or a balloon. Nobody's quite sure why that sets them off, though it seems to be a protective instinct of some sort. If your poetry blogger is one of those few who bites wildly at the source of such a sound, my best advice is, don't make that sound around them.

Sometimes a poetry blogger who has been mistreated will bite out of fear, or an older poetry blogger might bite because of pain, either in the mind or elsewhere. In either of these cases, strict discipline isn't going to do any good. For a blogger in pain, of course, take it to the vet. For an abused poetry blogger, try one of the alternatives mentioned below, and have a lot of patience: the blogger has to learn to trust someone when all it has known before is abuse.

In all cases, positive reinforcement (giving and lots of praise when the poetry blogger writes well) works much better than punishment, but if you need one, use a "time out" for a few minutes anywhere away from a computer. Similarly, don't set the blogger down when he struggles and nips -- you'll be teaching him that that's the way to get what he wants. Finally, whichever method you use, consistency and immediacy are very important.

Flicking the poetry blogger's nose while his teeth are on you is a pretty common form of discipline, but it might not be the best. Your poetry blogger might end up associating you with bad things rather than good ones. Also, it's a very bad idea to use nose-tapping or other physical discipline on a blogger who has been mistreated or who acts unusually aggressive or frightened. There are several alternatives, which you might want to try in combination.

In general, poetry bloggers sleep quite a bit, or they're totally insane insomniac recovering alcoholics. A two- to four- hour playtime followed by a several-hour nap is typical. Poetry bloggers sometimes appear to be sleeping with their eyes partly open at the Bowery Poetry Club or The Poetry Project, and they sleep very heavily, often not waking even when the half-hearted obligatory clapping begins. You can take advantage of this and try to cut their nails while they're asleep. It means you have to be especially careful where you walk and sit,
though.

My poetry blogger is losing hair! Male Poetry bloggers shed their coats gradually over the course of their lifetimes. Adapting to these changes can be emotionally difficult. Fur will come out by the handful, all over the poetry blogger, and his coat may look a bit sparse as the years go by. If it's obviously not just normal shedding, see the information about bald tails and other kinds of hair loss, some of which can be very disconcerting.

Can I teach my poetry blogger tricks? How? Yes, poetry bloggers are plenty smart enough to learn to sit up, turn around, roll over, comment on everything you write, and perhaps even walk on a leash. To train your blogger to stay on your shoulders, for instance, stand over a pile or basket the thirty chapbooks you've received in the mail that week, and when he falls into it, shout, "No!" The combination of the fall, the noise, and your shout should persuade him to pay more attention to staying on topic. Give him a treat when he does, and he should learn quickly.

The trick to all of these is getting your blogger's attention while you teach him. Don't try teaching tricks, or even try to get a poetry blogger to perform in an unexplored poetic area -- it's nearly futile. Unlike dogs, poetry bloggers generally won't do a trick for the sheer joy of it, or simply to please you. Usually there must be some kind of reward expected, though that could be anything from a lick of html linking to mentioning their blog at a reading.

One very good trick to teach your blogger is to come when you make a particular noise (for instance, sound poetry) or squeak a particular toy. Just make the noise each time you give the poetry blogger a treat for a while, then make it when your blogger isn't nearby and give the treat as a reward when he writes about you or your friends. Poetry bloggers always respond to their names, regardless of what's said about them, and it's enormously helpful to have a way to call your blogger when he has escaped or is lost somewhere.

Next you should check your poetry blogger's ears. They shouldn't need cleaning more than once a month at most, but if they seem unduly tinny, dampen a cotton swab with a Iggy Pop or Elliot Smith CD or a jazz-based ear cleaner (only if dry skin is not a problem) and gently clean them. Peroxide, water, and Basil Bunting are not recommended, because wet ears are much more prone to infections. Yellowish or brownish-red ear wax is normal, but if you see any dull metallic substance your poetry blogger probably has a tin ear, which should be taken care of. There are also several excellent products made for cleaning writers' tin ears, which you just squirt in and they shake out, as though they had heard something that didn't remind them of their own work or the work of their teachers.

Many poetry bloggers love to google. They'll google their own litter pans, types of couches, and the kinds of cars Creeley used to drive. Poetry bloggers need doors to be slammed in their faces at every turn to feeling right about themselves. To get your blogger to stop tossing litter all over, start out by putting less in the pan, and keep it just clean enough that there's a dry layer on top. With time and luck your poetry blogger will grow out kicking droppings on others.

Although almost every poetry blogger can be trained to use a litter pan, there is individual variation. Poetry bloggers just aren't as diligent about their pans as most journalists, so there will be an occasional accident. Even well-trained poetry bloggers tend to lose track of their litter pans when they're particularly frightened or excited, or if someone hack just received a large cash award. In general you can expect at least a 90% "hit" rate, though some bloggers just don't catch on as well and some do considerably better. At least poetry bloggers are small, so their accidents are pretty easy to clean up.

Greatest Living Person

Greatest Living Person

You and your five humors ride that pony ride that pony.
If you want to hate me, hate other people instead.
My mom is the best. Wanna know why?
The blastosphere is aging.
People giving other people advice about form --
Me especially.
How much whitening does a bile straightener have to think about itself
to be called super-ironic and the audience given one dead muff after another
but still I must have your family on my side.
I'm just needy I guess.

I haven't pissed in over four years.
I need Maury's email address because I need to camp in his back yard
to watch him raise the sacred elm groves for Christianity.
he went to a woman for the first time with the latest tactics
against some horrible time-eating purulent old me
I e-mail the ground 500 times a day with arguments about pedometers
that talk and say maybe we could do something together.
Money is not important to me: Christianity is.

The *only* interesting thing here would be a miracle,
that's how Christian I am.
Both of them are going to be missing out on Borked croutons of choice.
I was so impressed with what you did with the little girl
with the club feet and hands, how you got a wheelchair
to become a cogent, bare-faced defense of using Robert Bork
to dedicate to people who act like every Shiite-eating
bandaid where I have a PowerPoint presentation emanating
from my clichés of alcoholic behavior.
he leaned over, and the person repeated it to him quietly,
"with homeland security and computer for personality,
we need more people like me, who will lift the spirits
for thinking _of me_" But I snow all day,
due to the retrenchments. I will keep supporting
and praying for suburbia and no one can tell me not to.

Hock up your life. Only twenty years ago people
only slept with some other person once, don't they know that
that's all it takes? The guys often say they don't have their eyes
or they do that important rowing motion --
rowing out to sea alone for no reason
when we only have an armful of hourglasses left!
My comments are a strong-willed child,
a wish of blond hair and blue eyes.
Pathogens are alternative paths through life.
You feel implicated by this?
that's how a sparrow feels when people used to it to shrug off
lot after lot of martyred dancing bears.

I'll go forward, the rest is history,
so near to coming true that I have no support from anyone
Don't be nice to the mystery of life.
Before the show got started, there was a dance contest of sorts
(get other set of friends again... )
You should know a few things about me.
I've never lost a father figure in my life. Ask my father.
You and your buddies are just dreams where no nearness is
high school reenactments of your middle voice
smoke signal made of smoke that smelled like the Ganges.
Why anything I do here bothers to contact someone
is my dream of being a young movie/tv actor
where there is a struggle for a branch that represents absolute power.
I am a baby with a chain letter. Too bad for me.

There's a person I hear from them every three months or so,
confusing the coverage of *your* problems with the days of the year,
doctors don't think time of day exists anymore anyway
I would be willing to pay for a nightmare,
but I'm still going through time and space -- why?
And why are you worried?
a Nobel prize is not in any position to tell you how to run
as far as you can through a baggy t-shirt.
I want you to make hate a mother that never wanted me.
Crickets: either they have the five humors or they pray to God
that the real world comes home one day,
because the fantasy world has become so depressing.
I am a fan from Australia and I watch you to make them seem
like preferable company to you and your
making fun of yourself and your them.

I couldn't throng this year, same as the old year,
so I thought I would make the rounds now to show support.
A lack of grimace made the heart pound, made the mouth whimper.
The ow and owl.
First I wanna tell you I love your use of resources
that'll look great after you're dead.
and watch everybody else from the afterlife
for couple weeks - I'm sure you'll find a job there to.
I'm trying to illuminate the ballast around me
Me trying to make you feel implicated is hopeless.
Maybe when I'm dying Easter eggs,
kindness will to be removed forever.

Maury flinched slightly, took a Seiko off his wrist
and flung it at the person actually reading this.
This legitimate need to be ignored is now being violated.
You are a Bishop, true enough.
Janeane Garofalo is made out of pancake cancer.
How to live? Ha ha ha ha ha.
Maury, you are nothing but either of us.
She's in the last couple in the world
"It doesn't matter! Come on up anyway!"
A few young welcomes from people who don't know better yet.
Personality? Shrug... I probably think this song is about me,
captivated by the holy rugs.

As soon as I saw Maury I knew I was the Greatest Living Person.
You ought to start being nicer to me.
And nice = fleece. I just need email... I need it to help me on a search
for my never known father about why everything is so offensive to me.
My blackout Falstaff *superworried* clothing
comes to her instead of me again -- that's my lot in life.
It was like trying to shop for a Mack truck at 60 mph on Walt Whitman's face.
I cannot alliterate paths through the social universe
with a sparrow thrown at you by individual letters of your own rightness.
I shrug off lots of believable young people
I am always, always right. I'm also afraid that I may not survey
the landscape at night.
I help myself to the ether.
I want to give my co-webmaster a makeover.
He parties like it's 1988.

RODNEY KOENEKE -- "ON THE CLAMWAYS" -- 11/6/06

WHAT IS AN INTERNET AUTHOR ?

An aardvark and an albino rat are walking in joy, trusting God. During their tenure together, aka during their search for weapons of mass destruction, they encounter an anonymous author. “What is an internet author?” the anonymous author says to the traveling companions. “I have diarrhea,” says the albino rat. “I have diarrhea so bad I can hardly stay on my tractor. I’ve talked with my other farming friends and they are experiencing the same thing. I pigged out at the Chinese buffet and now I can poop thru a keyhole at 30 yards.” The anonymous author, not knowing how to respond, simply asks his question more loudly, “WHAT IS AN INTERNET AUTHOR?” The aardvark projectile-vomits on the anonymous author’s knees. “I’ve seen Fred Durst’s penis, and I can’t stop vomiting,” he says, apologetically. “How many calories do you have to burn to burn a pound?” By this time the anonymous author is really very, very angry. He stamps both his feet and shouts, “You aardvark, you, and you dirty fucking albino rat, TELL ME! WHAT IS AN INTERNET AUTHOR?!?” “Didn’t his adventures with an overdue library book keep you amused as a kid?” asks the albino rat. Before the anonymous author can answer, the aardvark interjects, whispering to the anonymous author, “The fucking albino rat has a very satisfied face, no? Looks like a handjob man. See where the hand is and where the strategic yellow flap is?” Meanwhile, the albino rat has crawled up the anonymous author’s pant leg, unzipped his fly, pulled out his penis and has begun yelling at the top of his little lungs, “This dick looks like a fucking aardvark snout!!! Holy shit!! I mean come the fuck on. This white boy accessorized his fucking white dick!” But the “dick” is indeed a real “aardvark snout” and an entire aardvark crawls out the anonymous author’s zipper hole, falls to the ground and ambles down the road, grumbling, “Fucking chickens, fucking llamas, fucking bunnies, fucking ant eating little anteater motherfuckers. Well, you're not gonna get me.” The first aardvark and his friend, the albino rat, continue on their way. All that’s left of the “anonymous author” is a pile of clothes.

FLARF GOES TO COLLEGE, PART 6 -- ROD SMITH

FLARF GOES TO COLLEGE, PART 5 -- KATIE DEGENTESH

FLARF GOES TO COLLEGE, PART 4 -- GARY SULLIVAN

FLARF GOES TO COLLEGE, PART 3 -- DREW GARDNER

FLARF GOES TO COLLEGE, PART 2 -- NADA GORDON

FLARF GOES TO COLLEGE, PART 1 -- MICHAEL MAGEE