What's a Pogram anyhow?

This is just to remind us all why we love Shaun Micallef's comedy.

I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.

-Salem
My Lord, forgive my unworthy crack, for my pantaloons are falling down.

I Walked Into A Door...

...OR I Am Not Paid Enough To…

Yesterday I walked into a door. It was a big door, a solid door, a metal door, heavy and swinging towards me when I hit it with my noggin. It really hurt. In fact, it still does but the bruise is hidden by my hair so it’s not that impressive (damn it!). I walked into this door when I was suffering from what I can only describe as impotent rage.

I am a receptionist. I sit at the front desk and smile at rich fat cats all day. I am a phone monkey. I pick up that ringing bitch and lie about peoplesis whereabouts. I am the beverage wench. If they want a drink, I get it - water, tea, coffee, milo, beer, wine, rum - and then I even wash the dishes afterwards.

Nowhere in my job description does it say “routinely be insulted by director’s drunken brother”. Nor does it say “observe directors drunken behavior and make important decisions regarding his ability to drive, the welfare of others and the police”. I can’t find the paragraph outlining the requirement to inform clients of what I am wearing or the need to acknowledge what they would like to do to me (which most of the time is take me out for lunch, but frequently it isn’t).

So yesterday, shaking with rage as I considered the treatment that it seems I am expected to tolerate, I didn’t see the door, and smacked my self fair in the head with it.

I’m thinking of asking for a pay rise.

Fatass McBlobbicus

Not that you care, but I have to be at work in 3 hours. This is ok though since Frejak recently presented me with the Sealab 2021 DVD. To celebrate, I've been using this Hookah in a drug free way and eating fajitas. They're freakin' delicolus. It would have been better if the Shanks boys could have joined me, but since the untimely death of Achilles, Hercules, Odysseus, Perseus, and the twins Castor & Pollux, only Bellerophon could make it. Even so, we drank until we were fightin' drunk and beat the asses of the disbelievers.

Point is, I'm having a very Sealab week and so I'm off on an undersea holiday. I'll be stopping at Sealabia, Heshopolis, Sparkopolis, Pod-Sixia, Quinland, Quin-Sixia and anywhere else that looks interesting. I'll be the one eating the Shrabster. Sniff you jerks later.

-Salem
It burns with the power of shark!
...Cincinnati Hotplate.

The Tale Of The Ibi - A Collaborative Effort

By Crumples and The Masked Lara

In the beginning there was the wily Ibis, so called for his love of the Dolmio Pesto pasta sauce, and the subsequent wily ways in which he tried to obtain it.

The wily Ibis begat the Two Ibi, Wi and Ly.
Wi and Ly roamed the earth, begating here and there many an Ibi, and searching for that most elusive thing - their purpose in the world. Surly we, awash in a sea of possibilities, can empathize with the wandering Ibi and their plight. Ibi were not for eating nor for playing, they did not sing, or dance, they could not sell door to door, nor did they have the ability to ride bicycles thus they could not work as couriers or paper boys, or in fact become olympic cyclists, extreme mountain bikers or world BMX champions.

If only they knew that their sweet, sweet milk was my one and only inspiration, and that for many others like my self, uninspired and desolate, they could have become milky Ibi muses.....perhaps then the following events would not have occurred.

The milky gift of the Ibi was instead discovered by a shifty business man called Hal. Unable to feel the effects of their inspiration, as he had not a romantic or artistic bone in his body, he still realised the profitable potential of the Ibi and he milked them for their juice. The milky discharge was then aged in barrels lined with the feathers of one hundred Ibi virgins. The resulting pungent, rubbery cheese he named after himself, Hal Oumi. The cheese was sweet and the money was made, but at what cost? The Ibi could not survive the vigorous milking and, as quickly as he came, my Ibi muse disappeared, thus depriving me of ever again suckling at his feathery teat of inspiration.

How I wish I could once again make the offering of Dolmio Pesto pasta sauce. Oh, how I long to be reacquainted with his downy bosom, to be filled with and cocooned in my milky reward, to feel the soft caress of his of his hook like beak on my scalp once again. I shall not forget the Ibi, nor shall I stop singing his tale, forever more, wherever I go, I take the Ibi with me.

And We're Back!

Not that anyone would really have noticed, but most of us here at MB have been away at a wedding. Frejak, Visure, Crumples and myself have spent a rousing week down on the lovely mid-north coast of New South Wales. It was a lot of fun (and a lot of hard work) but on the whole, well worth the effort. Kahn and Kallisar joined us for the last 3 days of our stay and the wedding itself was beautiful.

Now we're all back, I expect that we'll get back to posting random things here and there, but for me personally, I'll have to get back into the swing of things before I start creating any works of genius that will echo down the halls of time. Give me time, I'm sure I'm building up to something, you'll see.

-Salem
Do you think we can get grass seeds to germinate and grow on an animated zombie?