Oregon

Good morning gentleostriches, it's the evening. I am just writing this post right now this very moment to tell you that there will not be a post this Thursday, March 28th. I've just been so busy not writing a post that I haven't had time to sit down, eat guacamole, and write it. Instead of a post this week, I thought I'd share with you the time I went to Oregon. I've never been to Oregon, but it's a good story none the less.

Once upon a time I went to Oregon. It was no ordinary Oregon. It was the Oregon of my dreams. And the Oregon of the United States of America. Oregon is what we Euro-Russianers call, Connecticut, and it smells like butter everywhere. But when I went to Oregon, someone there asked me a question. It was no ordinary question. It was the question of my dreams. And the question of the guy who asked it to me. He wasn't Asian. 

Anyway, he asked me a very simple and undermining question that could very well lead to the Canadian Revolution coming to an end. I actually thought it was quite strange. Mostly because I couldn't hear what he was saying when he asked me, but partly because he didn't seem to have a face. It was a frightening situation to be in. I should know. I was there. Actually I was in Oregon at that time, but that doesn't matter.

If I remember correctly, and I don't, his last name was Term-Tollison-Ninetalk. It was very strange to meet this man. So strange, in fact, that my cat's sister in-law had to do it for me. Who are you? What do you want from me? Get away you creep! Are examples of things that you would shout when a very Russian man runs up and hugs you. 

-Griffin

Saturated Soup

I once understood how the Doritos of Guatemala formed. But then I forgot. It’s not very long until you’ll understand too. You’ll probably forget also. It’s a really long and complicated mathematical equation that a Japanese man says very quickly. He only says it once too. It’s hopeless. Unless your name is Hope. Then it’s hopeful. Hey. I just realized. People named Hope probably have scalps. Just like the people that aren’t named Hope. That’s astounding. I can’t really recall the last time I found someone named not Hope how with scalps had. Whilst.

Anyway, I wanted to infer something. And infer is the verby form of inference, and I sure know it. What I wanted to infer is what the two Ss in USSR stand for. I’m guessing it’s Saturated Soup. But I could be wrong. Like, the Union of Saturated Soup Republics. That sounds right, right? That seems like something that would be ruled by a man with a large mustache. I can’t even see it, but I can look directly into its leg. There are no bones in it unfortunately. They’re not allowed to be there. The bones that is. Bones in legs are like pie in cake. It makes no sense and is useless. Soup isn’t though.

The golden globes are just like the Golden Globes. The only difference being is that the golden globes are small spheres that I own that are colored a metallic yellow, and the Golden Globes are some TV award show thing. Don’t tell me how to live my life. If I understood the quack quotient I probably wouldn’t need to own golden globes. The golden globes conduct electricity and don’t pay for the amount of heating required to keep humans alive in Siberia. Even if they did, why would you care? You don’t live in Siberia. I can tell. I’m a doctor. If you did live in Siberia, however, you wouldn’t be speaking Latin. Because no one speaks Latin. Latin is a dead language.

City book makes salad. And by that I mean, you aren’t allowed to buy books in a Subway in New York City. That would just be weird. I’m not talking about the underground trains either. I’m talking about the restaurant chain that has a guy named Jared as their spokesman. Apparently Jared was fat before. Then he started eating Subway and working out and he got skinny. It was obviously the Subway sandwiches he was eating that made him skinny. Hey, don’t take anything personal Jared. I like Subway, and I like your glasses. They suit you. Don’t devour humans though. That’s illegal in most countries.

-Griffin

Loafs of Meat

I once met a man who lived in a large concrete cactus. He told me about the wonders of gravity. If I remember correctly, he wanted me to know about the edibility of gravity. He said that it takes a special set of skills not obtainable by normal means mainly meatloaf. I had no idea what this meant at the time, and still don’t. Seeing as though you can’t see or touch gravity, it would be difficult to eat it. Which, I suppose, is why it takes a special set of skills not obtainable by normal means mainly meatloaf.

If there is a war anytime soon, I vote that we move to the Ukraine. No one cares about the Ukraine enough to attack it, and they have parties. They have so many parties, in fact, that their power plants sometimes party too hard and explode. This happened once in 1986. The entire city had to be evacuated because of the mass amounts of party put out by their nuclear power plant. It doesn’t even have to be power plants in the Ukraine. Like, plant plants party hard there too. There are some bushes in a small city in the Ukraine that have taken over, and pronounced their dominance over the humans that live there. The Ukraine claims to not know the existence of such a city, and they leave off this city on their maps. They can’t fool us however. We know about the Ukraine’s parties. 

It would be very awkward if trees could get pregnant. Like, you wouldn't know if it was pregnant because you wouldn't expect it to be, and you'd ask, and like it would get mad because you called it fat. You jerk. Why would you do that? Charcoal could be the madness of the crime. It's not its fault. It's its itting itsy its. I have no idea what you're talking about. How dare you. How. Just tell me. How. How. How. Or? Brands. 

Would you like to explain to me that you are a tree-insulting banana face? Because I'd really like to know why. If you have any time on your hands to be insulting trees' weight, then you should be able to tell me why you have time to insult trees' weight. I can't believe it. I didn't know the formula. Fifty.

-Griffin

Oats

Today, according to my researchers, is Thursday. Thursday, according to my researchers, is the day after Wednesday. They also found that today is the day before Friday, which is the end of the work week. Incidentally, it is the greatest day of all days too. But that's another story. One that is four words long. I shall not tell you the story, because it is very hard to write. I do not have the time nor patients to do it. If I did, I would not be planting trees in my front yard, now would I? 

Crapes are the same thing as crepes. But craps is something totally different. Oats have nothing to do with any of those either. I recently ordered a bucket of mustard. Not to eat, because that's disgusting, but to throw at passing zebras. It's incredibly horse radish. You cannot do that. 

Anyway, oats could be the president of the Ukraine. But I'm not certain if the Ukraine has a president. I'm also not certain if the Ukraine has more than three cities. All I know is that there's a Ferris Wheel in Pripyat, and we should ride it. I bet it's free. It's not like it's dangerous or extremely illegal to go there by ourselves or anything. We could totally do it. Right now. You pay for the plane ticket. I hear about giraffes often. 

Hey, if the salad tow knew the bucket, it'd be one crazy African country. 

-Griffin