Youmans (pronounced like 'yeoman' with an 's' added)
is the best-kept secret among contemporary American writers.
--John Wilson, editor, Books and Culture

Friday, September 08, 2006

The Palace Aphorisms, 7-9

Notes:

One of the following aphorisms is not true, but why let that get in the way?

Aphorisms are sometimes true. Aphorisms are sometimes opinion. The idea of order in my brain may be sheer frolic or mayhem in yours. To boot, my moon view and my world view cannot be yours. We knew this after the Stevensesque aphorisms.

No. 7 is derived from the sight of a plump family, provided with a quick, agile child to bring them somemores from the campfire.

To read about The Palace Aphorisms, go here for the lowdown, the rules, the needful disclaimers!

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The Palace Aphorisms 7-9, from series 1: Tourists & fat people

Aphorism no. 7

The fat woman is a perennial Girl Scout who waits by the campfire for somemores.

Aphorism no. 8

The devil likes to dance with the fat girls.

Aphorism no. 9

A party of very fat tourists, powdered with baby powder and dancing in the moonlight, is remarkable for many things, but most of all for their tiny, twinkling feet.

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Moonlight and rotundity provided courtesy of www.sxc.hu/ and doom girl of Tamworth, Australia.

8 comments:

  1. Nude, too? Or powdered with their clothes on? These aphorisms are unleashing all sorts of phantasmagoria!

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  2. Nude? Hmm. How about in pastel tutus?

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  3. great picture...your going to make the warewolves come out with that one!

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  4. the Palace Pot Boy9:47 PM, September 07, 2006

    Now we're cooking: fat powdered dancers wearing tutus (or nude), dancing on tiptoe in the moonlight while werewolves lurk in the shadows.

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  5. No 9. True. Have noticed this too.

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  6. Ah, Clare--what a relief that someone else has noticed!

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  7. you people have no lives.

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  8. Have courage and show us yours, you silly lurker.

    ReplyDelete

Alas, I must once again remind large numbers of Chinese salesmen and other worldwide peddlers that if they fall into the Gulf of Spam, they will be eaten by roaming Balrogs. The rest of you, lovers of grace, poetry, and horses (nod to Yeats--you do not have to be fond of horses), feel free to leave fascinating missives and curious arguments.