THIMBLEFUL of THORNS - "QUICK JABS AT DEATH & THE WHORES IT RIDES IN ON." : L'CHAIM! = TO LIFE! : JEREMIADS & JAPES : GALLOWS HUMOR : LAVISHLY ILLUSTRATED : BY AN AMERICAN IN TAIWAN : JINGOISM WITHOUT TEARS ... SUPPORT OUR TROOPS ... SUPPORT ISRAEL ... SUPPORT TAIWAN ... BOYCOTT FRENCH LETTERS, GERMAN SAUSAGE, BELGIAN STATUES OF BOYS PEEING, RUSSIAN ROULETTE (& TURKISH TAFFY!) ... READ ALOUD TO SOMEONE YOU LOVE ... ADOPT A STRAY CAT ... EAT MORE TOFU ... (Contents & Malcontents: © 2003 Thimbleful of Thorns) "When we reflect on this struggle, we may console ourselves with the full belief, that the war of nature is not incessant, that no fear is felt, that death is generally prompt, and that the vigorous, the healthy, and the happy survive and multiply." - DARWIN



Saturday, April 26, 2003
CONSPIRACY 101 - DUMBO WAS AN ALIEN! Clark Gable, too ... And, as newly discovered CLASSIFIED DOCUMENTS prove, Lady Diana was silenced to prevent her revealing to the BBC that Prince Charles received nightly transmissions from extra-terrestrial monarchists instructing him how best to install himself as the earthly overlord of ... THE EMPIRE OF ZOON (TM) !!! (And you thought those ears were a product of TERRESTRIAL evolution?) NO! They're SATELLITE DISHES created in the ZOONIAN bio-engineering labs circling our planet EVEN AS I WRITE THIS! DO NOT PANIC! STAY ONLINE! Thimbleful of Thorns will REVEAL the twisted details of this nefarious XENOMORPHIC CONSPIRACY ... ... as soon as I see who's at the door ... ... --- ...

Sixth Installment: The Faculty Meeting ...

Why does he call it a "rest stop" when it makes you want to stand up and cheer?!

A wonderful, stirring read over at
Parkway Rest Stop.

I really hope James (Sorry, I'd couldn't find your last name) plans to turn this into a long novel. (And maybe install comments so he knows he's got loyal--and humbled--readers!)

LUCID DREAMS! Where erotic slapstick (almost) bends to your will ... My sleep habits are a little fractured. I sleep three or four hours a night. Then one of the cats wakes me. I get up, feed them, see if the stars are out, write, read, surf the Net...and many hours later, I take a nap ... ... and try to dream something better. I dream in rich, fantastic, after-they-cleaned-it Sistine Chapel color. I often speak in French, sometimes a little dream-kitchen Japanese or Chinese (which magically, everyone understands), and sometimes I can do exactly what I want. It's called lucid dreaming. (And yes, you can do it, too.) So, today, I went to take a nap. It was windy (I love wind) and two of the cats were already in the bedroom, preparing the terrain. (It helps to feel cozy before you jump into the abyss.) Then, I'm asleep ... I'm walking through these gorgeous, narrow stone streets, just minding my subconscious mind, when I passed this little restaurant. A girl in the window gives me one of those looks and--I promise you--I say to myself "I know this is a dream and I can do what I want." So I go into the resto, and tell them it's my dream, etc ... and ... (I won't go into details, except to say that in involved a certain amount of gentle friction.) Then one of the girls asks me how I can be certain it's a dream (there's always that niggling doubt). And I say, because, otherwise the cops would be coming through the door to arrest me. And sure enough, I glance up and the cops (the CRS: French riot police!) helmets on, visors, down--are coming through the door! No kidding! (Never explain yourself to your creations!) So, I'm up and out of there. The cops give chase, release a couple of Dobermans, and I'm zooming around corners and down darker and darker streets ... But I escape ... ... by waking up ... ... into another dream ... I'm in a hotel room, lots of dark blue (surprise). And who's there, listening to the TV with the sound off, so as not to disturb me? Bill Murray! (Would it be news that "Groundhog Day" is one of my favorite movies?) Bill is slouching around in a terry cloth robe and speaking French to some bleach-blond on the couch. I don't say anything about his very approximate pronunciation, but I do tell him he's being too formal. ("Vous" is formal, "tu" is friendlier.) I tell him you don't have to "vous" pals, or people who are younger. He seems surprised. I ask him if he wants to have a beer sometime and then I leave. ... to do more stuff I can't in real life ... I have great "grande creme" coffee in a great bar and tell the bartender my employment woes. He's very sympathetic. Then, I'm in my own blue hotel room. It's a mess. (Apparently I really DO like a fair amount of chaos.) Suddenly, I look out the window and see ... ... Japanese cheerleaders just finishing practice (Darn!). One of them scowls at me (she knows!) and lights a cigarette and leaves before I can compliment her on her pleated skirt. ... and then I really do wake up ... ... to find you slouching around ... Care for a beer?

Friday, April 25, 2003
WELCOME, WAYFARER! Right this way for the boiled chicken feet ... Travel advisory ... You have now entered Taiwan cyberspace. No stool samples required for visits of less than 30 minutes - But comments are appreciated. Here, SARS is a carbonated beverage. The folks who brew it have never been on the same side of a dateline as a mug of rootbeer. That other SARS is only available in Toronto. The symptoms are similar to those of boredom. The difference between getting SARS and going to Canada is that you may recover from SARS. If you don't find anything offensive on this page, consult the archives - You will leave a better person.

Thursday, April 24, 2003
PILGRIMAGE OF BLOOD - KERBALA We have nothing to gain but our chains ... Time to let the air out of your inflatable body count calculator and get out a test tube (and some old galoshes!) - it's blood drop count time! Looks like more Iraqi hemoglobin is going to be shed by the Iraqis themselves than by the Coalition. Not on the sadistic Ba'ath-tubbies in revenge for decades of savagery, but in one of those technicolor orgies of self-mutilation so dear to Muslim peaceniks - the pilgrimage. Give me an "S"! Give me and "M"! What does it spell? Mullah-ridden, hemo-goblins, twisto-pervo, slash-me-daddy, bike-chain-beaters, getta-ginzu-noggin-knifing, spattered-night-shirts, self-abasing-maso-kissing, scar-faced-would-bes, plastic-surgeon-night-school-dropouts, dermo-layer-flayer-yeah-sayers ... Warm up my bull dozer ... and call to assemble ... the Dung Beetle legions ... There's a whole lotta recyclin' to be done!

Y'ALL ARE WAY TOO SERIOUS 'N ya got me doin' it ... The more punditry I read, the less I want to write. See?

Tuesday, April 22, 2003
TRAITORS' THRENODY The answer's blowing out their ... Janeane Garofalo has "Think" tatooed on her arm. (Hat tip Little Green Footballs comments.) Hang her next to Rachel Corrie, and what've ya got? Anti-War Wind chimes ... "Think ... thunk ... think ... thunk ..."

Monday, April 21, 2003
In response to the kind words of JK, VK, and SLN the beach-comber, I thought I'd post the lyrics to an old song of mine. The tune is in Breath major to the rhythm of the upbeat heart.

(Taiwan, August, 1994)

(1st verse)
You can weep and you can whine
When your shoelace breaks or your lover’s disinclined
But have you seen how broken bottles glitter, glow and shine?
And rainbows shown in oilspots’ll light the darkest times
The treasures of King Solomon are everywhere to find
If you’ve the Mind ...

(2nd verse)
You can storm and you can rage
When you lover’s late or the book has no last page
But have you seen in old rag stains the maps of some lost age?
And dead leaf ships in gutter rain high-tide horizon’s stage
The true source of the Nile starts each time you look behind
Into the Mind ...

No, no, it ain’t easy livin’:
The wars and waste and noise
But don’t just take the world you’re given
You’ve always got a choice
But staring too long in your mirror
And screaming that life just ain’t fair
Will leave you deaf and blind
Cause devils leave big shadow trails
But God is in the small details
In things both frayed and fine
If you’ve the Mind ...

(3rd verse)
You can stall and count the cost
When a stranger nears or new streets bid you cross
But while you stare up at the clock’s hands or pick some coin to toss
Some diamond’s buried deep in Time’s sand - a universe is lost
Cause pins you didn’t hear have dropped
With angels dancing on the top
Just reach for one and find
That you’ve the Mind ...

Test ...twiddle ...