TAG(lines) — You’re It!


Here are a few of my own Handy-esque “deep thoughts,” primarily some wordplay fun in tagline length from the past several weeks. If I bothered with a Twitter account, I suppose these below and those on my back pages of Tumblr would be my “Tweets of the Day.”

* * *

It’s said if you believe in nothing, you’ll fall for anything. On the other hand, if you believe a little bit in everything, you’ll fall for nothing in particular.

* * *
Do the math: Conservatives = Liberals - 1(♥)
* * *
Like the shoemaker’s elves, dreams are our overnight cobblers of the soul.

* * *

As much as I welcome a visit from the Muse, sure wish it wasn’t always in the wee wee hours of the morn. 

* * *

He was always in the middle of a whole-life crisis.
 

* * *

Thought he was trending hip, but his finger was on the pulse of a corpse.  

* * *

Why treat me shabbily when you can treat me to chablis?!

* * *

I yam what I yam, so I can’t be beet.

* * *

While “good Earth” contracts to “g’Earth,” the bounty from it often expands one’s girth.

* * *

Def Ignition of WFMU: A many Kentacled “Octopi Montgomery St.” cult. [And, just like fish, mollusks stink from the head down.]

From the Ground Up: Can Yew Dig It?


————————————-

[I blame the arrival of colorful seed catalogs for fertilizing this full-grown groan fest.]

Gathered lilies, gentian, boysenberry, gorse: Lentil ears, and I shall not beet about the bush. Zucchini cauliflower by any other name, yet thistle not asparagus, nor will it stem, the pain of our currant trees on trial. Though ye artichoke back tears for the fate of Sister Hazel and her betrothed, gourd giveth me a far harder row to hoe. As your Colony Judge and elderberry, I yam certain it escarole I have bean mint to fill. I have mustard the strength and promise to rice to the occasion on the celery thou hast allotted me.

First, lettuce not take radish action rooted in plum hearsay from Farmer Figg lest it is prune fruitless. He has never hidden his corn for Sister Hazel’s plants to marry Brother Bram. But let every mango endive head furrows to find the nettle in the haystack, that last straw, and leaf nothing to chance. Ye shall gingerly pumpkin of the pear to leek barley known facts regarding the chard remains of this full blooming affair. Till there is mulch more dirt to turnip, we butternut squash, nor further soil, our Sister’s good name.

And a fuchsia hearken these sage worts: Now that she cantaloupe, Hazel in her melon collard will be garden against any anemone who spade her home a visit. Verily, this nutmeg half bake torts compost of thorny rhubarbs and rye dandelion to cloud in violet truth here. Sesame, in the fennel analysis, there is still mushroom to gather grist for the mill, to separate the wheat from the chaff, and shallot be sow.

Howsoever, weed well to wait. Less stalk again later, but for now lettuce throw caraway. It is the hour for raisin cane, tubers into hominy ginseng praises to gourd on high! Good morrow and may peas be with thee!

—Judge Juniper Kale

V8 Summit Stumps Beech, preceding 1691 Witch
Hazel trial, at Harvest Festival of Salem, Mass.  © KAM

Downbeat Tags [Cont.]


Filled with angst and wondering why my ex is tense.

Friday’s Child in a Wednesday World.

I seized the day, but it struggled free and slapped me in the face.

© KAM