Suggestions for
VISITORS’ BOOK entries:
FLATTERIES:
Oh Payton, you are beyond compare!
Payton, I am in awe of your talent!
Mr Inkletter, when I grow up I want to be just like you.
After spending time at your site, I don’t want to visit anywhere else.
This visit has taught me more than I ever knew.
Mr Inkletter, I wish you lived in my town.
I can honestly say I am leaving your website full of inspiration and hope.
I never knew the human mind could achieve such heights.
BROWN NOSINGS:
Mr Inkletter, I wish you had been my teacher: I would have brought you the juiciest most sublime organic apple every day.
Payton, darling, I dream the most luscious dreams about you every night (females only).
Payton, you are a stuuurrrddd! (Females only.)
Payton, you hunk, you have ruined me for all other men (females only).
Mr Inkletter, I wish every one in the world was like you.
Mr Inkletter, I hang on your every word.
Mr Inkletter, you weren’t behind the door when they were handing out the brains, the looks, the wit, the charm, the sophistication, the humility, the sex appeal (females only), the generosity of spirit, the leadership, and every best quality a human can possess!
CRITICISMS:
Not enough norks.
VEILED INSULTS:
Mr Inkletter, it has taken me fifty long years to regain my faith in human nature, but it only took five minutes perusing your site to lose it all again.
However long you went to school Mr Inkletter, education can never be overdone, can it? You might consider night school.
INSULTS:
You are a loathsome bottom dweller!
I wouldn’t line my budgie cage with print-outs of your pages, and someone else would have to print them out, because I wouldn’t waste the ink or the paper.
Your wife obviously must have got you at The Reject Store, on a ninety per cent off day.
I showed my dog your website, and he pissed on the screen.
You are a disgrace to the human species, the koala species, all marsupials, actually, to all mammals, nay, to all life on planet Earth in fact!
My fit and healthy grandmother pleaded to be euthanased after finding your site.
I’d rather eat dog shit than spend ten seconds at Fool’s Paradise.
THREATS:
If I get my hands on you, I’ll tickle you till you cry.
I’ll have myxomatosis genetically engineered to infect koalas, and release it in Perth.
I’ll administer the Government Koala Treatment to one wild koala caught each day until you take your site down. (A heated pebble is inserted into the back passage of the koala and it is let go.)
230 comments:
1 – 200 of 230 Newer› Newest»One jelly bean for me; I'm the first visitor on page two.
I've listened to the Discarded Drafts, ch.1. Unfortunately I had to do so without Cocoa.
Do you mind posting (to your blog) or emailing me the said drafts? Well, it's because I'm not so good a listener, what with my background. I'd love to read it though. It's just that I don't seem to get to the story by listening.
You take care!
Jothiek: If I show you the text of THE DISCARDED DRAFTS, I will have to subject you to severe tickle torture! But then maybe there could be found some way to avoid having to do that. And yet maybe not. Already you’ve brushed my fur against the grain by not obeying instructions regarding the cocoa, and an angry koala bear is not a pretty sight.
At the moment I’m over 250 km from home, so BEAR with me. I’ll ruminate on this 'quandarical' conundrum and see if I can come up with a solution to the desiccating dilemma when I return in the next day or so.
I’ll also give some consideration, on the drive back to the big smoke, to your reckless ambit claim regarding the jelly bean.
I won't mind a tickle or two to be shown the Drafts. Or you might as well gimme a massage; I've never had one from a koala. Won't that be such fun?
Now, do I have a really angry koala there? Seriously, I've never seen an angry koala and would very much like to see one. I hope you're angry!
My reckless ambit claim of the jelly bean? Well, you gave one to Gladys when she first commented. I was the first to comment on the page two of your visitors' page. I demand justice!
Or is justice something that is entirely new to koalas?
Jothiek: I’m back now, and as angry as hell! That Gladys Hobson started something, the cat’s out of the bag; yes, she did win a black jelly bean for being the first ever to comment, under an actual posting no less, way back in 2007, before ever the VISITORS’ BOOK existed; since this awarding to her of membership in the exclusive AMOBJRC (Ancient Mellifluous Order of the Black Jelly Bean - Roasted Crucifer) club (membership one), by moi up at Mediobognum in The Lake District of Cumbria – as described here: CUMBRIA: Gladys Hobson awarded one black jelly bean for being the first to leave a comment on Payton L. Inkletter’s blog, 'Fool's Paradise' – she has become, if not a pain in the arts, then very cocky, and she is now shamelessly demanding a red jelly bean, no less, for her recording of ‘MADDINGTON: World divided over writer’s sanity... ’, notwithstanding that that illustrious prize is a competition, awaiting other competitors’ throwing of their voice boxes in the ring; as it stands she is competing with herself, and has resorted to many dastardly threats to my personage, some salacious, all shameful, unless she is awarded the prized ruby bean.
Angry koalas have been know to urinate – I would not say ‘piss’ lest kiddies read this – on their guests, but I won’t descend to that hackneyed form of disapproval resorted to by many of my cousins. Missus Inkletter suggests I just bite the bean and award you a jelly bean, graciously, and redeem myself somewhat.
I think she has a point, and I’m teetering on the edge of doing just that...
Teeter you may, but what are you leading this innocent young man into? Lulling him into Fools' Paradise with the lure of jelly beans? Shame on you, Inky!
But whatever you do, make sure that red jelly bean is reserved for ME!
And what are you doing keeping that poor cat in a bag? Would you like it? Mind you, I would not blame your very dear long-suffering wife if she resorted to such methods where a certain temperamental koala is concerned. Yes, indeed, she could easily produce a crocheted bag. Mmm - I must get in touch with the dear lady.
And, I would like to know, what are you doing pussy-footing around when I am waiting to see what arguments you are producing in this God debate? I think you have already lost it by default!
Queen Gladys of Pussyfootria: I would have thought, reading the steamy excerpts of your novels Awakening Love, Seduction by Design, and Blazing Embers, that this innocent young man Jothiek has far more to worry about from your own ‘good’ self; if ever there was a wolfette in a pussy’s clothing it would greet you in the mirror each morning; however, be that as it may, I can only koala-foot around: it’s deeply ingrained in my nature. I also must draw to your attention Your Majesty, that Payton L. Inkletter suggests parents might like to keep their kiddies under the age of 15 away from his sites. And jelly beans aren’t just for children you know. They form the majority of my diet, and if one consumes a balance of all the colours, one thus covers all the food groups, and can look forward to rude good health. (I’m still waiting...)
As far as said red jelly bean is concerned as a reward in the recording competition, you will only win it upon your merits: this said, far be it from me to suggest you have cause for concern...
Teetering... teetering... teetotalled! Against my better judgement I gave in, under horrendous threats of torture from my own wife, and awarded a virtual blue jelly bean to Jothiek, and the shocking account of this occurrence can be read or listened to at ‘PARABURDOO: Blue jelly bean finally awarded to Jothiek by vacillating writer – Payton L. Inkletter begrudgingly emails virtual lolly’.
Mind your own business Queen Gladys – and I mean that in a most affection and kindly way – and stop letting my cats out of their bags. It’s still within the law to keep cats in bags, and pigeons have an enlightened take on the practice. If you insist on continuing to untie my bags, feathers will fly, and you don’t want to be around a savage koala bear, believe you me missy! Oh, and I’ll let Missus Inkletter know you are calling her a crotchety old bag.
As for your last laying in of the crocodile skin boots, koalas’ two cerebral hemispheres have no corpus callosum connecting them, neither are they all that callosum, so it takes me longer than most to do most anything, let alone write a tome decimating one of the ‘great’ intellectuals of the twentieth and twenty first centuries on the subject of the existence of God. Patience is a VIRTUE. It’s under ‘V’ in the dictionary. And anyway, you must have a better understanding than most of the difficulties involved in such a critique of Dawkins’ ‘The God Delusion’, what with the royal ‘We’ and all that. Richard Dawkins is saying that you don’t exist! So are you just one fig-of-many in-my-marmalade-ration?
This question from jothiek was posted over at PARABURDOO: Blue jelly bean finally awarded to Jothiek by vacillating writer – Payton L. Inkletter begrudgingly emails virtual lolly, and I have posted my reply there and a copy of it here, given the profundity of the matter into which he has delved, the philosophical, ethical, and ontological repercussions being staggering if not mind boggling:
jothiek said...
Would you have traded the yak for the kidney bean poo? :)
Life is an unending story indeed; why, when a mere jelly bean has one, one shouldn't be surprised of the fact really.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008 8:58:00 AM CDT
jothiek: Well, you have caught me off guard, for I wasn’t expecting to have that deep question put to me; I am more comfortable asking it of others.
It would have been hard to lose the wonderful old yak, but being pragmatic, Boofsang would have died eventually, and yaks can be bought, bred, or duffed again. So on that basis, I would say I would have traded the yak for the kidney bean poo, if I was suitably convinced that something truly supernatural was under way. Zharkdawa had the burden of how to provide land for his eleven sons, and this special turnip-generated (a swede technically) bean certainly had a promising beginning, which was borne out shortly thereafter, what with the gold and all that.
How many folk do you know of who have been killed by a kidney bean poo? How many folk do you know of who have been killed by a yak?
Yes, it’s a no-brainer, given the horrendous statistics of yak instigated homicides contrasted with the dire economic corner Zharkdawa was in, now that you have forced me to think hard about it jothiek... I’d have taken the (kidney) bean (poo).
(Oh, and could you believe, my recording of the 'Paraburdoo...' story was blocked within 2 days of my posting it due to a complaint by the Recording Industry Association of America, Inc (RIAA)?!: the mind implodes if not boggles!!!?)
Life in Fools' Paradise is indeed a mystery. Something must be awry somewhere.
Young men need a certain education which my books offer in a subtle and gentile manner without resorting to crudity.
Can you say the same?
Queen Gladys
Queen Gladys of Gentilia (funny? naughty? rude?): Admit I must, so I do, two things:
- your books are graceful works of fragrant subtlety and gentility;
- my web sites under the Fool’s Paradise – Infinity on a Shoestring umbrella contain much that is the exact opposite.
I hope folk read the warning near the top of my main page:
* WARNING! * WARNING! * WARNING! * WARNING! * WARNING! * WARNING! * WARNING! *
You have entered a politically incorrect zone; Thinking is a comfort hazard; Leave now before it’s too late.
Oh what a fascinating thing is the human condition! The blend of the human and the divine...
Ya.. and Zhark.... I do not complete these names lest this site is being filtered by the organization mentioned in a previous comment. (Wink, wink, nod, nod.) All I say is be careful....
As regards your warnings, what you say is true. But then on fools will enter a paradise for such, be they monarch or 'man in the street', Hence you draw in fools like a magnet. Only a fool will disregard a warning.
But then encased in much Koala poo are words of wisdom written by a man of stature and sensitivity. And those seeking such knowledge of the heart will venture into the strangest jungles and brave the wildness of the inhabitants to gain such treasure.
Even a queen can learn from from her lowliest of subjects.
Even so, remember your place, bear, and make sure I get that red jelly bean!
Queen Gladys of Winklenoddia: She who Zharks last Zharks best, so this is very sensibly restrained of you Your Majesty. I have written to the Recording Industry Association of America requesting that I be put in the light regarding their complaint leading to the blocking of my recording ‘Paraburdoo...’ Perhaps it has something to do with my sounding like any number of highly successful singers whose copyrighted works they would be pledged to protect. My voice has been variously compared to Dean Martin, Tom Jones, Bobby Darrin, Michael Bublé, Bob Dylan, Roy Orbison, Tiny Tim, Harry Connick, Jr., and Barbara Streisand, to name but a few. So little wonder they must think my recording is straight copy of one of their charges’ albums.
True to form, I’ll inform my faithful followers when I am informed of what constituted the basis upon which the RIAA formed their decision to inform, nay complain of the putative copyright infringement to 4shared.com, who subsequently acted first and informed me later, that they had formed the view that they should take on face value the substance implied in the claim formed by the RIAA, and block ‘Paraburdoo...’, thus deforming my links from Fool’s Paradise to this audio file, and potentially forming a negative view in the minds of the millions of visitors who clicked through to listen to my masterpiece, but instead were subject to the following message: ‘This file is no longer available because of claim by Recording Industry Association of America, Inc. (RIAA). (You really need to reconsider what you visit on the internet, as Payton L. Inkletter is a corrupting influence, the pits even, according to the RIAA. His account has been reported to store illegal materials. The file has been moved to the 'Abuse' folder. Get a life!)’. I really should consider forming a deformation action.
Now Queen Gladys of Flatterpraisia, I note with approval your assessment of my web page content: ‘...words of wisdom written by a man of stature and sensitivity...’ (but don’t let this lull you into any sense of security regarding the coveted Red Jelly Bean Award); while my jury is still out concerning your observation that my words are: ‘encased in much Koala poo’. You also said: ‘Hence you draw in fools like a magnet’ – you did mean ‘magnet’?
It takes a man (or woman) of steel to be drawn into a paradise for fools. Those of lesser metal will keep clear lest they be unable to control their emotion and so miss out on what is on offer.
As to your barny with a certain institution, if various high ranking celebrities have not sued you by now, why the heck should others concern themselves with your modest on-line 'publication'? Are you so popular in the world, nay of celebrity status, that billions are flocking to this website and blocking up the network? Tell these guys to get REAL! Or maybe they should join you! It seems they qualify.
LONG LIVE LIBERTY!
Hear hear! I second that!... (and NOW, lest I be third.)
What've we got here, two fools fooling around over crazy nonsensical things, jelly beans, what-was-that-stupid-subject-s? I now clearly understand why this site is called 'Fool's Paradise' (Fools' Paradise?). Fools just love this site!
But wait, hold on, did I just include myself? me joyFOOL?
JoyFOOL: Make that three fools, or even four, when KoolKoala returns (I count yourself, Queen Gladys, myself, and said low temperature-Koala in that total).
By the way, two ominous things have happened this past week: the audio of 'Paraburdoo...' was blocked upon complaint of the RIAA if you could believe it, and a couple of days ago the whole 'Paraburdoo...' post vanished! I don't have any normal explanations for it, only villainous ones.
I have a copy of the HTML of it fortunately, so this week I hope to make the post again, but it will not have the comment by your good self, jothiek, in its original form. However, I also have kept copies of your and my comments, so I plan to post a comment with copies of our original comments within it.
Probably unrelated, despite my temptation to ascribe it to the same set of events, after the post vanished from Blogspot my computer has been freezing for hours on end until I discover it and reboot, and now I am battling virus infections, despite having AVG (paid version) running and updated daily. My SP2 WinXP has reverted to plain WinXP, and it freezes every time during my SP2 install after running the repair option. So I am wasting many hours over it all, when I would rather by far to be writing and doing some gardening. In the 3 years since I did a clean XP install I now have hundreds upon hundreds of personal settings that I dread to have to do again, so I am trying to avoid a clean reinstall.
Sorry to burden and bore the millions of daily readers of this VISITORS' BOOK, but it all means a bit less fresh material on the main site than I planned till I get things back to normal. On a positive note, my good friend Reeve Chocson gave me a freeware-careware program called 'Arachnophilia' by Paul Lutus which easily creates HTML for bold and italics, so at long last I don't have to manually put the blasted HTML in these comment boxes - hurrah! If any commentator wants to use bold or italics in these comments, download Arachnophilia from Arachnophilia Home Page and type your comments into it, highlight and embolden and/or italicise with the buttons whichever parts you wish, then copy and paste them into Blogger's comment box. I am using the older version 4, but I assume the new version is as easy to use.
This comment from Gladys Hobson was posted over at PINJARRA: THE DISCARDED DRAFTS: further evidence, if any needed, that Payton L. Inkletter is ga ga, and I have posted my reply there and a copy of it here, given the gravity, nay, the world stopping shenanigans of all that has been transpiring (me this time, you next?)...
Gladys Hobson said...
Sounds as if someone has squeezed something out of you if not jelly beans. There is an odd smell about the goings on in Phools Paradise. Something bad if it had to be removed (by force?) All very weird I must say. Has your writing a secret code embedded in it? Has your voice a secret decibel only Koala's can detect and act upon? Are we to see an invasion of these shores by hoards of koalas screaming for blood (of our famous jelly beans)? Oh Payton what have you been up to? (Or down to, as the case may be)
Monday, September 29, 2008 11:53:00 AM CDT
Payton L. Inkletter said...
Gladys: Today I received word from 4shared.com that the Recording Industry Association of America, Inc. has informed them that they made a mistake with my audio file 'Paraburdoo...', and 4shared.com have graciously apologised to me, yet the RIAA have not contacted me directly (yet) at all, despite my polite email to them asking for details of my claimed breach. Thus soon I hope to have the audio back where I originally put it, and the original links to it from my main page working again.
While no doubts linger as to who caused my Paraburdoo... audio to be blocked, the mystery remains as to who or what (aliens perhaps?) caused the Paraburdoo… posting to disappear from Blogspot.com. I will get to putting it back - soon I hope - having a backup of it on my still intact (though not operating-system-functioning) hard drive. My operating system imploded last Friday, and I am limping along with a bare bones reinstallation on a different hard drive until I can either restore the old one or give up and start anew. Why am I telling you this? My time is being swallowed up as though into a black hole due to all of this computer misbehaviour, so things will be slower even than usual of late at Fool's Paradise.
I like your question and the sense of humour and wit it reveals: 'Has your writing a secret code embedded in it?' Surely I will get a story idea for a future posting out of this!
Tuesday, September 30, 2008 5:15:00 PM CDT
I have checked and it has not been returned. However I was given a chance to win a car! No thanks.
So by installing something or other I could be doing something or other?
HTML ?
Never could understand such workings? I do not know what it means — High Tension Moral Literature?
Not sure that fits with Phools like me!
what glittering genius captured the pong of payton so wonderfully in the surfing painting behind him and baby inkletter?
is it a lost picaso?
and payton, here are some tips:
1. less cocoa, more blogging
2. less pope, more soap
3. jelly beans galore, more and more
Queen Gladys of Huhtuhmuhluh: I not sure anyone understands the workings of HTML. At least, not how to make it display the same across all the common browsers. I often think of ways to insert HTML up various programmers' keesters.
KoolKoala: Long time no hear! There are two plausible hypotheses circulating among the thousands of conspiracy theories as to the artist who painted me surfing:
It was given to me as a Farter's Day gift by Baby Inkletter, who claimed that she painted it, with a little guidance from her partner Baby Peggletter, both of whom have placed their monikers upon it;
It is a little known fact that Pablo Picasso did spend some time in Australia in the fifties as resident artist at St Ives Hospital East Victoria Park, Perth, Western Australia, painting only the most beautiful babies born there, and he followed it up with painting some of them as adults, some from photographs he requisitioned to France if the person couldn't be located, in the early seventies. He had painted me as a baby, and contacted me in '72 and asked me to travel to France so he could paint me as a fifteen year old. I refused, but soon after a photograph of me in Pinjarra Senior High School's Hall of Fame went missing.
Within a month Picasso had painted his legendary Garçon à la hang dix, and secreted it away at Notre-dame-de-vie, only to have it stolen earlier this year. It is estimated to be worth over a hundred million dollars US. It depicts a young koala bear, strikingly similar to myself, in a thrilling surfing manoeuvre. It is possible that I have this very painting of myself hanging on my wall, with Picasso's signature carefully scraped off, and the Babies Ink&Peggletter's shamelessly slapped on. I am resisting calls to have it authenticated, because I can't afford the insurance if it happens to be ridgy didge.
My apologies for not dropping in lately. I have been doing arresting work which has kept me somewhat occupied. But 'he who must be obeyed' must be obeyed! (Lest I find myself stuck in my own tower!)
Now come off it, Inkletter. No use trying to pass that painting off as a pick- ah-so! It is definitely much rarer than an old scrap of art. How many pictures have been painted by a koala - an infant one at that? No indeed this is a piece of original art that can not be matched. (Torched maybe but matched - never!)
Be proud of your offspring's efforts and make sure it gets central position at the Tate!
Queen Gladys of The Tête-à-Tête: Funny you should say that Gladdles, because I'm currently in negotiation with The Tate St Ives. It's obviously a poorly kept secret that I own an original Picasso, and while it suits me for the public to think that Babies Ink&Peggletter painted it, the art world knows otherwise.
St Ives are thrilled that Picasso revisited one of his paintings of beautiful babies from his days at East Victoria Park St Ives Hospital, and caught my adolescent verve and enthusiasm for life, before marriage sucked it all out of me. They own nothing of Picasso's from his brief phase within his neo-expressionist period, known latterly as his Marsupial Blue Period, thus their desperation to display the great Garçon à la hang dix. He fell out of the tree not long after.
I think I'll string them along, and then say no.
I don't think the St Ive's Tate should have that picture anyway. I can envisage the roads blocked for miles, ambulances unable to get to the Tate to pick up all those old biddies swooning over that picture, and near-naked surfboarders stuck on the beach in the cold because they can't move for visitors overflowing on the sands. Panic, panic panic! hundreds, nay thousands, of deaths and all because of that b..... picture!
No, I shall set up a petition to have it banned from this country on the grounds of ... subversion of artistic talent and a threat to the nation's economy.
Queen Gladys of the Anti-Sedition Petition: Well, if I had been leaning towards loaning Garçon à la hang dix to St Ive's Tate, you've about made up my mind not to, with your vivid portrayals of near-naked old biddies and swooning surfboarders. I think the Art Gallery of Western Australia might be the more in keeping with the quiet dignity of the work, and given the grace and sophistication of the locals, I think the painting would receive much greater reverential appreciation.
I could visit it in disguise as say, a tree kangaroo, or a possum, just to keep a watchful eye on the treasure.
Why build up treasures on earth? Your painting belongs in paradise - Phools Paradise!
Your real treasure is what you give of yourself to others. And you have plenty of that steeped up - make sure that invasive koalas don't poop on it!
Queen Gladys the Art Critic with Nous: Baby Inkletter would agree, as she claims she did the painting. Whether Picasso or Inkletter, it is a masterpiece by anyone's reckoning, and given the subject, is it any wonder?
Picasso could make a beautiful woman look a shipwreck and a lump of dough a mystical masterpiece. All I can say is, Missie Inkletter has style and she can paint my portrait any day.
This thing will not accept my password so Gladys is anonymous!
Gladymous: Yes, but do you surf?
I surf the Net
I surf the Net
Don't we all?
Hey - I love that picture at the top
Paradise indeed.
Can I get B&B there?
Anonymii: You've caught me out with those ripostes! I thought I'd stumped Gladymous, knowing that her surfing days were likely behind her, and what do you know, I get gerzumped by visitors more on the ball than I.
I wonder how Picasso would have rendered a keyboard and monitor? He would have titled it Garçon à lécran bleu de la mort, and if it had been of me, it would be priceless. Actually, it would have been most appropriate to have been of me, as I've had more blue screens of death over the years than most folk've had hot dinners.
Queen Gladys of fine tastys: Yes, so do I like that header picture of this page. I took it last week at the north end of Sir Charles Gairdner Hospital (I had to run and jump up onto the ledged trunk of that palm tree while my camera took it on timer).
And would you believe, yes, you can get B&B there: about a hundred and fifty yards in front and to the right of the palm there is a thicket of bulrushes for privacy; there's oodles of water for ablutions, even a shower in the form of a fountain spray seen as a white shimmer to the left of said palm tree; and lots of bread in little pieces comes every day from kind folk, but you'll have to fight the ducks, swans, shags, herons, egrets, coots, winos, and possums for it, however it's worth it, for the bread's fortified with folic acid. I eat there a lot when Missus Inkletter gets shirty with me.
Ah, my little patch of Paradise…
When I asked for B&B I was not suggesting bullrushes and bread! Nor would I require shags on standby! The shower though sounds pleasant enough. However to be gawped at by possums and koalas etc etc could be a little alarming - word might get around that a beauty was exposed for all to see, and I am a shy retiring personage. Also bulls rushing would not engender a peaceful environment, so I must refuse and look elsewhere.
As for Picasso - maybe he designed this computer - the darn keys don't seem to be where I put my fingers - very odd words keep appearing.!
Queen Gladys of the Bullrushes: Well, you really ought reconsider, Your Majesty, for not only are the amenities of this park superb, the alternative name for Sir Charles Gairdner Hospital is - no bullrushes - Queen Gladys II Medical Centre, since your visit to Perth back when.
Oh sure, and I'm a koala with an itchy armpit!
But I would really like to see this spot. Got a video?
Anonymous of Sceptical Bent: I kid you not, although I might be taking some licence with the Queen 'Gladys' bit; maybe it's a name more in consonance with the ensconced in London Queen, but the rest is as true as an angel's oath. I have no video, so I suggest you simply run past the picture on you're monitor looking at the screen to get the illusion of a video.
As for your itchy armpit, I recommend that you shave or trim under there, and rub in fresh Aloe vera gel. If it's a flea or fleas, or a tick, the shaving will take care of them, and the aloe will soothe their bites. And then resolve to improve your hygiene to avoid a repeat of the infestation or gunk build up.
I see you fools are enjoying in here...so much for Fool's Paradise (Fools' Paradise)!!
Itchy armpit..hmmm..I'd recommend sweating it all out (run a couple of miles or so) and taking a proper bath thence after. After all, there's nothing better than a physical exercise, is there?
jothiek: Well advised, but I am factoring in the great difficulty a koala has in running any great distance at all, thus being debarred from the benefits of sweating it all out. They are usually tipsy from the fermenting eucalyptus in their bellies, and so would likely just bump into tree trunks or fall over all the time if they did embark on your said remedy. So it really only leaves shaving as the most practical option.
Wretched Koala
Are you trying to bankrupt the entire British Economy?
Have you never heard of Royal Jelly? Yes? I should jolly well think so!.
In which case you will have heard of Royal Cheese. Though maybe not, since it is so incredibly expensive that only Billionaires, not common bears, can afford as much as a smell os the said delicacy.
So where do you think this cheese comes from - on trees?! Such ignorance.
Use your imagination, Bear!
Shaving can only be done AFTER the gathering, which is after the running - on a royal treadmill of course. Washing? Never!
Wretched Koala of Pity Inciteful: How intriguingly potentially cryptically implicit! If by thou pun upon Royal Jelly thee bee suggesting that Royal Cheese, rather than Rexcrement - as in 'squeeze the cheese' being 'lowaphoric' for 'doo a poo' - bee armpit gunk, and that it bee frightfully expensive, then by no means have a shower, bath, or wash, till after the gathering.
Am I the only one to notice the possible subterfuge here? For why would a mere koala know or care about the exudates of Royalty? While others mightn't give a rat's arse, could wee bee smelling a Right Royal Rat?
Oh really, Payton, you reduce everything to a poo-trid level!
Think of the Romans, did they shave? No they were plucked! They oiled and worked in the gym and steamed in the hot rooms. Then all the sweating grease was scraped off with a strigel- every bit. No soap. Then they could bathe - hot then cold! What happened to scrapings? Ah no doubt some entrepreneur found a use for them. Could this have been the beginning of Royal Cheese, I ask myself.
My personage can only supply the finest quality and maybe, if you are good, I will send you a sniff of it by email.
Anonymous of Statuesque Baby Cheeses: '…did they (the Romans) shave?' I am too young to know, so I'll trust that you know, but that raises questions about your age, and the Guinness World Records' reliability, those eager beavers' veracity; I can hear the hue and cry now. And don't they shave today? The ladies their legs, the men their chests? That's a ding thing isn't it? Or maybe they don't, but either way, it doesn't change the indication that you must be a femalonymous, given the lusty and approving account you gave just now of the hot rooms goings on! Being the red blooded bull koala that I am, I must admit that your gushing description of male sweaty and oiled loins had me wanting to bring up my evening's eucalyptus leaves stew.
You have done me and all discerning readers of this Visitors' Book a favour by warning us off anything carrying the Royal Cheese label.
From what you said in a previous post, (tipsy from the fermenting eucalyptus in their bellies) can we expect wine or beer on its way?
Anonymous of Meticulous Bent: It is comforting to learn that my visitors actually read the previous posts!
The answer of sorts is beer, but it can't be '…on its way', for the brewing receptacle is the koala's belly. That leaves (pun intended) only two ways (short of sacrificing the life of said furry marsupial) of getting the booze: regurgitation (not advised, due to the flavourings of stomach acid, furballs, fleas, spit fires [yellow viscous goo exuding caterpillars which feast upon gum leaves], lovers' saliva, you name it); and, defecation (also not advised, also due to the flavourings for reasons not requiring clarification, other than the not so cryptic remark that rather than getting pissed through over indulgence you'd get shit faced).
I hope this answers your very thoughtful question.
Very interesting and nutritional list of ingredients.
Your fortune could be made, Payton.
I suggest you regularly excite koalas to throw up their tummy contents (tickling stick?) and turn it into a 'Aussie Delight Relish' for discerning gentleman - of the stronger breed - to have served on Roo steaks - cooked rare and possum gizzards. It must be potted in an appealing manner and, providing it is done tastefully I will allow you to use my Royal Seal of approval (for a slight consideration, of course)
Queen Gladys of Commercial Bent and Gustatory Gent: At first glance, I thought 'Well strike a light, the old queen's onto something here!', but upon closer thought, yes, while maybe an Aussie Delight Relish could be made from said 'regurgitative' ingredients, no, the scheme will be shot down like a goggle-eyed possum in a gum tree.
The problem is, given that possums are a protected species, then so are their gizzards. So unless you could come up with some equally delicious usage suggestions, we're like a platypus out of water. Oh, and can you come up with something more sanitary than 'Royal Seal of Approval'? Years ago Mum had our toilet well stocked with rolls of 'Green Seal of Removal'.
Okay - use said relish as outstanding BBQ relish, It may have a picture of my profile and stamped with Glad Delight! Sauce fit for a queen!
Queenymous of Dis Guise: Okay, and no consideration, thank you, witnessed by the millions of daily visitors, yippee! I'm rich!
Okay, you win, but I expect a light lunch, minus relish when I next visit.
Having spent ages on each blog trying to get a url identity I turn to anon as it is quick and easy!
Gladys
Queen Gladymous: Let them have cake - WE shall have the finest eucalyptus leaves, picked clean of spit fires, fresh, and jugs of sparkling water, at your next visit.
As unbelievable as it may seem, I just did the first satisfying poo for this financial year!!
And just as tax deadline is fast approaching...
KoolKoala: Assuming that you're a young koala, I will dispense some valuable advice your mum should have taught you: if regularity becomes a memory, eat younger eucalyptus leaves, and some bark; you'll have a smile back on your face in no time.
Oh, by the way, I hope you remembered to crap another 10 per cent for GST. If it's difficult to muster the extra, just think of ex-Prime Minister John Howard, the architect of the tax.
Koolkoala: It proves, does it not - seeing that 'a big shit bin come up' - that mum's advice is worth its weight in prime succulent gum leaves.
Now while you're in this free nethered state, you ought shimmy up a gum tree in a park in Bennelong, and drop a few squits on old Honest John as he jogs by.
It seems to me the pair of you should consult a Freudian head-shrinker OR comedian.
Bear up a gum tree is soft and funny,
That is, when you tickle him on his tummy.
But goodness, gracious, can't you see
When the poor creature needs to pee?
So leave him alone and go off home
And leave Aussie creatures free to roam.
Queen Gladys of Lyricversia:
How wonderful to behold the Right Royal Wit,
Whether it's lyrics be of piss, or even better be of shit,
Her Majesty can be relied upon to most certainly entertain,
Though the subject matter's limited to pulling the castle's chain,
Privy Counsel, bless them, powder puff and pamper the Right Royal Rump,
Rubbing and soothing its many dimples after every Right Regal Dump.
No chains in the castle for you to pull
All lavvies outside are all pretty dull.
Or dull, not pretty, I really should say
As monarchs of yore built them that way.
My botty is flat and not even a wrinkle,
And nothing is there to make your eyes twinkle.
So less of this joking about my private affairs
Or you'll end up in my tower without any stairs!
Queen Gladypoo of Privypottypoo:
How the regal mind maintains it jollity,
Amid its onerous problems namely polity,
'Tis one of those knotty imponderables,
Still best debated among the honorables,
Of the Flat and Smooth Bottomed Society.
I will, of course, ridicule your attempt at poetry,
For methinks you'd be better sitting up a gum tree
Doing exactly what koala bears do best —
Eating leaves, spitting twigs, and evacuating the rest!
Queen Gladydicules (pronounced 'glad-idi-kyoolay') of Blackguarding Bent: We're not bad at weeing on daft tourists who insist on holding us also. Not to mention scratching, roaring, being tipsy, and ruminating. Oh, did I mention sleeping?; And falling out of gum trees?
And, no doubt, falling on your head. Well, that explains a lot.
Fall out of a tree
While scratching a flee
Drop on your head
And daft things are said!
what spit out twigs?
BULL koalas like me don't spit out twigs! my virulent koala-hood is too alpha for that bahy-beee!
ugg ugg
now get pumpkin carving payty-poo
Get wise, KoolKoala
lest the carving is more sinister
This halloween
And guys like you
That think they're smart
End up in Grim Reapers cart!
You have been warned - stick to chewing leaves and leave wise-cracking to the wise!
Queen Gladys: You try scratching a flea - they're tiny! A koala has to focus so intently it can fall out of its tree, and yes, sometimes we land on our head.
KoolKoala: Your command is my command! Over at the main site the header is now sporting two carved butternut pumpkins, actually by Babies Ink&Peggletter, who frightened the crap out of Missus Inkleween and me last night when they came into the darkened room sporting those ghoulish apparitions complete with inner candles burning.
Anonyween: On KoolKoala's behalf he will do as you command! (Lest he end up in Grim Reaper's cart, and can no longer post comments here.)
Common sense at last!
Queen Gladys of Cumbria: I hereby leave the Fool's Paradise and associated sites, somewhat foolishly, in your dubiously capable hands, under your severe sceptre, for the next 12 to 15 or so hours, while Missus Inklemushypuss, Pa pree Inkletter, and I travel south over 250 km to attend a wedding for a couple of hours, then turn around and travel back, like the raving fools that we are.
Silly old muggins here will be doing the driving, what with the additional travel to the drinks and nibblies location even further south, towards 600 kms in total. The wedding is of a lovely girl, Kismikkindaughter the Second, to a local boy from Greenbushes, all at Balingup on the farm where the infamous Inkletter and pree Inkletter union began its fateful course through history in 1981, when Miss pree Inkletter laid eyes on me through the leg of a pair of my undies I was hanging on the clothes line. She was smitten, and who could blame her…
Babies Ink&Peggletter travelled down yesterday on Halloween under their own steam, and will be at the said knot tying with us. Baby Inkletter happens to be the ultimate result of Missus Inkletter's lust after tying the knot with me. She got her mother's beauty and her father's brains, and we can all be highly grateful for that, for it could always have been the other way around…
So behave yourself Queen Gladys until my return, and keep your subjects, objects, rejects, and dejects under control. If you do this well, I may well consider you for future supervisory positions.
Have a safe journey. Blessings on the happy couple, and make sure you don't sit in the balcony - they want to be showered in confetti only,
Queen Gladys of SmartAleck Bent: Well, we did have a safe journey, thank you Gladys; I'm just back some 14 hours after we left, having done over 540 kms, a third night driving, and with my eyes that's a strain. And fortunately Betty and John were only showered with confetti, rose petals, kisses, and well wishes, and I kept well away from the balcony. Their personally composed vows and readings were very inspiring and worth the journey alone to hear.
The weather was perfect temperature and fineness wise, however, of the two hundred folk there on the lawn around the front steps of The Homestead, Balingup, many, too many, sustained sunburn, especially the women in all their bare shoulder garbs, given the fiercely strong sunshine. Front steps did I say? Those magnificent front steps were recently completed by the highly talented Duncan Moon, a stone mason and artist extraordinaire who hails originally from Wales, having spent the last couple of hundred years in Australia. He was chuffed to see the gladsome couple wed on the steps he built.
Rather than two hours, we spent six! We caught up with several folk we last saw 26 years ago! The last port of call for us was the magnificent paradisiacal farm surrounded by state forest near Greenbushes that the newlyweds will call home. It so reminded me of Shady Acres in my novel Fool's Paradise, it's uncanny.
Babies Ink&Peggletter got to Balingup yesterday and will stay again tonight, including going to the official wedding reception on our behalf, we oldies needing to get back home to our own beds before the pumpkin hour.
I've said it in my fiction, and I'll say it again here, if God decided to pull up the stumps from Paradise, he'd settle in the southwest of Western Australia, probably somewhere between Margaret River and Albany, likely in or near Balingup.
Oh, and you did a fair job holding the fort Queen Gladys, so you're top of the list for doing the honours for me again sometime.
Sounds wonderful. Maybe you could post a photo or two? I'm pleased you did not ruin the occasion with naughty koala tricks and everybody had a beautiful and memorable time.
Queen Gladys of Daguerreotype Bent: Sleep beckoneth, giveth thee me a day or so, and I shall see what I can do.
...faaaaaart...
KoolKoala: Full of hot air as usual!
You should harness that bear gas and save your energy problems
oh la la
they stole my idea in Dubbo!
selling my poo - that was all I had!
http://www.abc.net.au/rural/reporter/stories/s663174.htm
now i'll be ruined as every koala and his bum capitalise on MY idea!
payton, what's a bear to do?
Good heavens, CoolK. Stand up and bear it like a man! (Sniff and complain), and find someone to set up a petition - how about that queen of mediocrity sitting (yes, I did say SITTING) on a throne all day. DEMAND a cut of all profits for cool koalas in Fools Paradise.
A suggestion from her majesty.
Stop snivelling and get your thinking cap on! Go one better - stain your poo gold (preferably from the inside as you eat.
Or, even better: crumble in a little fools' gold in your food OR over your poo. Sell it worldwide - Koala gold from Fool's Paradise.
Go with it Kool, and may the fools be with you!
KoolKoala: I read the article about koala poo for sale, and all I can say is that at $2 a nugget you should stop farting around and start laying eggs.
I will decline, as the whole business is a little beneath my dignity.
KoolKoala - has anyone tried bottling bear urine? Some folk use their own to wash their hair and some to rub on their skin. I've heard some folk drink it in certain countries. Maybe, just maybe, your liquid could beat the lot for flavour and skin tonic appeal. Worth trying.
I'm all in favour of helping the underbear to succeed, especially when he;s Kool!
Anonyweemous: Now you really are trying to take the piss out of us! And why are you so full of ideas which require the removal of the underwear from an underbear?
Finally a voice of reason on these banal pages.... 'anonymous' congratulations on being an independent and free thinker!
I took your advice and decided to enter the piss market this very day. And I know advertising is of most import, so I decided to sell straight from source to the people.
So off came my pants.
I started the yellow gold flowing upon arriving at my local supa doopa mart and found to my confusion people seemed to disdain my freedom stream, and acted as if *I* had broken some unwritten social code!
Of equal upset was that almost as soon as I had unleashed the tinkle fairy I ran out of the precious liquid!
Bah I say! What cotton socks and fooey!
Fear not, I have not been put off. I will go to a more progressive part of town and come equip with liquid to drink so I can produce more of the tinkle spit.
Next week I shall nobly try again, willy in one hand, 'sars in the other...
I'm sure, with patience and fortitude your efforts to establish yourself as a producer and purveyor of golden urea will bear fruit. Likely you will become as famous for exporting the stuff as those producers of the famous Scottish golden liquid. No longer will we hear of 'Scotch on the rocks' but rather 'Kool in the glass - with gum leaf.'
Hi Kool — keep that way it is most becoming.
What's happened to that old geyser - yer know, the ink spot chappie?
Is he poorly? Does he need a few fresh eggs to perk him up? (Sorry I guess eggs would not do anything of the kind unless made of gold)
How about a bucket of jelly beans‚ red, black, green and yellow?
Don't like to think of him being down at the mouth. Say something to make him grin (unless that would frighten all the beasts of the field and birds of the air that live in Phools Paradise).
Anyway, Kooly, give him and his missus a big bear hug from me.
Concerned fellow idiot
Queen Gladys of Bearhugsia: It is most comforting to be reminded of your concern for the Missus and me. True, lately little has been happening on the surface at Fool's Paradise, but a new short newspaper fictional story is being written about Duncan Moon's real work of art, 'Arcanum', by moi, as we speak, a new short audio is coming called 'The Wedding Telegram', and in December a short text being a marriage reading.
So steady as she goes is the way of things these days down under, but the main drain of my writing-thinking time is going into my 'The Dawkins Deduction', a critique of Richard Dawkins' 'The God Delusion'. And as you know, things move slowly here anyway at the quickest of times.
But what's this about a bucket of jelly beans? Now you've got my attention…
Jelly beans to Inkletter is what the bell was to Pavlov's dogs! I can almost see the saliva dripping on Lady Inky's carpet!
So that is what you are up to?
I await to hear the rumblings from down under (NO not the result of too many beans - jelly or otherwise) when this monumental task is accomplished and the word is shaken!
Queen Gladys of Pavlovia: Yes, I'll have my words shaken not stirred, thanks.
And how erotic!: my 'saliva dripping on Lady Inky's carpet'; that one almost didn't get past the moderator. Turn it down, please - we Aussies are more delicate than that.
Hey Inky, what's happening on that photo at the start of your site. Is that tiger bear eating that stuff or has he just thrown it up?
Give him a couple of Rennies!
Queen Gladys of Acimaxicus: I'll be sure and let Missus Inkletter, who prepared and served that dessert to me, know that you think her food is indistinguishable from the involuntarily regurgitated contents of a queasy stomach.
In the words of English comedian Catherine Tate, how very dare you!
So are those red things on top boiled caterpillar grubs? That is, not pieces of your guts thrown up?
Queen Gladys of Quickezia: My word how perceptive! You'd never warrant it, but yes, they are boiled caterpillar grubs, one of Missus Inkletter's best dishes, and one of my favourites, especially when they've been fed on strawberries for a week before slaughter.
Exactly what does a love detector look like? How efficient is it? Is it going to be a requirement that couples subject themselves to it before marriage or shacking up together? (Is it me or just my money?)
These are important questions. The reliability of such an aid is essential.
Queen Gladys of Agapectoria: Now they are good questions.
They are the brightest pinpoints of light of the most glorious kind, that attract, that soothe the eyes, that draw the onlooker ever deeper in.
They are 100% efficient, but skill is gained in wielding them, usually taking time to gain with no shortcuts. Thus clumsy use of a perfect tool cannot deliver perfect results.
No mandated requirement will be forthcoming to coerce couples to use it before tying the knot officially or 'de factolly', however, it is keenly recommended to be kept in use before and during all coupling endeavours.
To detect "Is it me or just my money?"
Now would it be better not to know and just keep up the "dream"?
Sometimes it may be better to live in a fools' paradise.
Queen Gladys of Matrimonial Blissinessia: Trouble is, methinks - (thinks me) - if it is just my money, this dastardly subterfuge would be exposed before too many anniversaries were under the belt or corset.
When Missus Inkletter - then Miss pree Inkletter - and I decided to tie the knot, she had 500 bucks, and I had less than fifty, so I obviously hitched her for her money. Let's hope she doesn't read this, and discover my egufretbus, twenty six years later.
We too were married on a shoestring. If you have nothing, you have nothing to lose but plenty of time to build up together.
I hope you all had a lovely Christmas and Santa didn't carry off that little cutie for a children's stocking filler!
Queen Gladys of Knotinashoestringia: Marrying having nothing material of value except health and the potential of youth is about all any of we 'prenuptials' should want strongly; combined with commitment to marriage building and we're off and trotting in a marathon without equal.
Missus Inkletter and I were spoiled rotten by our nieces and their hubbies who put on a fabulously loving and fun Christmas Day for us, my mother, my sister, and Babies Ink&Peggletter at East Victoria Park yesterday. We will cherish the day. And we all enjoyed the company of Maximus Coccioli, the world's hugest American Rottweiler pup, also being the biggest gentlest pussy of them all, all fifty kilograms of him, and that's just his tail.
Payton the Koala Bear got up to all sorts of things, including losing his clothes, hitting the vino, and being a Mafiosi for a while to help expedite the repayment to a relative of an overdue debt, or so the story will go. He only just managed to escape being stuffed in a stocking.
Stuffed in a stocking?
Well I suppose that is moderately better than being stuffed with a stocking — that could be nasty (depending on which orifice is selected, although should the said stocking be filled with jelly beans maybe the brutal act would have its compensations? Oh I dunno — could be rather frustrating I suppose ).
Queen Gladys of Fishnethosieria: Yes, it very much depends which orifice: the nether one would be such a waste, but the upper one would be okay, for every last bit of the jelly beans can be sucked through the stocking eventually.
Oh! I hasten to add, there is a strict order to the said stuffing: the nether may follow the upper, but the upper may never follow the nether.
O I wouldn't know about such things. Stuffing poultry maybe, but I have never attempted a koala. Are they stuffed before or after slaughter? Being stuffed with jelly beans might just smooth their path I suppose.
Queen Gladys of Terriblydarkhumouria: I almost fainted when I read this last comment of yours oh queen of terror and dark musings! 'Slaughter' of a koala bear! What a horrible idea! I am beginning to realize that your earlier threats regarding your Tower of Terror were no mere idle ones.
Next you'll be wanting to know a suitable garnish for roast koala.
A suitable garnish? Mm now I wonder? Jellied beans? Mm, yes. Jellied beans with a hint of eucliptus oil? The koala might just enjoy it too. A fragrant way to go — with a smile on his cuty lips. I guess he would have to be shaved first. Would he mind? We must have regard for his feelings.
Actually I am not a big meat eater. Even so, I like to think of animals being treated humanely. And I refuse to eat baby animals. They all have a right to live contentedly and be well looked after until their time has come. Koala — steaks, chops or mince — would not be on my menu, but...
Of course there are starving people in the world. But reducing the koala population is unlikely to relieve the situation. We in the West being less greedy just might. I've heard about the huge amount of food thrown away in Britain. Not at our house it isn't. Leftovers go in the soup.
Nope, I don't fancy koala soup. So that's another reason to leave the bears to carry on what they have been doing since recording began. According to one Payton L Inkletter — giving the tourists, who pass under their trees, the benefit of their urinating system.
Queen Gladys of Tarnishedgarnishia: Yes, he would mind being shaved first, I'll have you know, for I don't believe you just mean just his upper lip or cheeks.
'...benefit of their urinating system' - how prescient of you Queen Gladys, for Australia is very hot, and there's nothing nicer than a bracing eucalyptus flavoured urinary mist raining down on a boiling hot day, blessing the wilting tourist or local who by happenstance is below.
And I am far less terrified of you now that you have shared that you won't, as a matter of principle, eat baby animals, for I am, despite any appearances to the contrary, still a baby koala, in a liberally interpretative manner of speaking.
Let's face it, Inkletter — you would make somewhat tough meat and I do not have enough teeth to chew you. (Mind you, a little nibble on the ear when Missus Inky is not around might not go amiss! You are such a cutie!))
Queen Gladys of Earlobius Nibblius Naughtii: I will have to agree with you, as much as it pains me to agree with you about anything, that I am a cutie, such even. And yes, a little nibble on my ear would be a treat to a red blooded woman of any age, as she would be close to where I dab my Old Spice, and there's hardly a gal who can resist a bit of that fragrance mixed with a dash of the highest octane testosterone on the planet.
The major problem is that Missus Inklelittlegreenbag knows how delectable I am to the fairer sex, and won't let me out of her sight. She even sleeps on her back with one eye open.
Wait until her ladyship sleeps and cover the open eye with a picture of whatever her ladyship most delights in. While she is thus occupied with erotic dreams you and I may experience the delights of chewed ear. But please shave it first. Sneezing would wake her ladyship.
Queen Gladys of Earlobia Antiphobia: That's easy, the picture bit anyway: a picture of me wearing just my Y-fronts, or cockatoo smugglers as she likes to call them.
Have we got a date then? Do you have a bedpost for me to hang up my crown?
After listening to your wedding speech recording methinks I'm in for some fun!
Queen Gladys of Indecenticus Proposalus: Ah, the recording to which you refer would have to be 'The Wedding Telegram'. It would seem to me that you have found the piggy noises near the end somewhat arousing. This is not surprising to the more worldly-wise among us - even Royalty are prone to the human condition.
No bedpost, so you'd have to leave your crown on, but hang on, let's not get ahead of ourselves: I would have to have you promise to be gentle, and our lawyers must draw up a suitable contract prohibiting you from using the experience for the basis of any future novels or even short, even very short, stories.
Dash! Gone is my bit of flash fiction!
Slipping off my crown and creeping in beside this erotic creature, I found his furry ear and sunk in my teeth for a quick nip.
"Aaahhhhh" he groaned. "More, more."
I put the crown back on my front tooth and started to chew in earnest.
"Oooooo, yes, yes," he whooped.
"Yuck! No thanks," I spat. "Your missus has given you an earful and it tastes 'orrible!"
I ran off. From behind me I could hear Missus Inkletter tittering. "Serves yer right, Queenie. Keep away from my old man. There's not enough of 'im for two of us."
Then began the refilling of Inkletter's ears.
"What did I tell yer, you old..................."
Queen Gladys of Adulticus Fictionlandia: Ever the master (mistress) of surprise, that was funny. Your crown being of the dental variety was very good, it tickled me.
Alternative version of flash fiction:
I, Queen Gladys, snuck into the Inkletter's boudoir of a million dreams come true. The night was warm, and the non-Italian stallion had just a sheet covering his legs, sleeping the sleep of the innocent, on his back, the faint glow of the street lights shedding excruciatingly attractive shadows across his rippling abdomen, his red silken boxer shorts very well filled out and mounded, his spoilt wife asleep on her side, sleeping the sleep of the sexually satiated.
Now is my chance, I thought, as I slid in between them. What a greedy bitch, to selfishly keep this God all to herself, I affirmed, determined to get my cut. In with my tongue, and before I knew what was happening, I was choking on Payton L. Inkletter's left earphone of his iRiver T10 mp3 player, still running his favourite talking book, 'Winnie the Pooh'. This commotion woke them both with a terrible fright, and although it was dark and Missus Inkletter was smothering my face with her pillow, determined to be the end of me, Payton grabbed me out of the bed, and administered the Heimlich manoeuvre, correctly ascertaining that I was choking to death.
“Those earphones cost a fortune!” he shouted, as it flew out from between my tonsils, then flung me back in the cot for his missus to continue where she left off. I had not expected to end my life this way, but nevertheless, at least I had a little taste of heaven before I expired.
Phew! A master of the short erotic! Will I ever be satisfied again?
Oh Payton.......
Why is that poor koala tied up - in fact, platered - with chocolate wrappers?
So cruel. he can't move a muscle. Someone needs reporting the RSPCK!
Queen Gladys of the Plasterplatter: All is not what it seems, Your Majesty, for I am there seen, in that header photograph (which for later readers, who won't find it at the header anymore, it will be found in the Header Archive, linked from the main page), I am approaching the climax of the initiation ceremony of the Ancient Mystic Order of the White Knight (roasted crucifer). Thus you now know that among my numerous titles I am a White Knight of the Cocoa Table.
And so I can expect a little more respect?
White Knight of the Cocoa Table.
Sounds like a 'Cadbury's fruit and nut' case, Sir Knight!
Queen Gladys of Fruitynuttymixia: Well might thee mock, Thy Majesty, but we Knights take our duties very seriously. And what might they be, pray tell Payton? There is but one duty, and that is to consume some cocoa product daily. We usually don't advertise our other moniker: Knights of the Brown Table.
The toughest of us take it (the cocoa bean or powder) neat, or all but neat, perhaps with a little skim milk powder and water, unsweetened, gggrrrr…
Why is that wee Koala stuck on a Yucca? Beautiful flowers maybe (we used to have one) but the sword leaves have sharp points. Have you no thought for that little bear? I'm not thinking of his bum but of his eyes. Shame on you, Inkletter!
Queen Gladys of Thorny Beastland: Actually, it was my bum that really got hurt. You well understand, from experience, how Yuccas are no Sunday stroll.
Missus Inkletter forced me to sit in among that briar patch just for the sake of the pretty photo with the stalk of flowers; talk about coercion.
So you are going to start a progressive story, Inkletter. Leave me out and you are for that high tower!
Did you read me correctly?
Queen Gladys of VentybeStillia: Your Majesty, I read you correctly, and I know you jest not with your threat. You are most welcome to contribute to the story about the Venties and the bizarre and gluttonous object of their worship, ReplicatorSix, and so supplement your already eternal fame.
Although the account so far was finished back in October, time constraints have caused delay in getting it posted. I hope to have the text, and with a bit of luck, a recording, of its progress in 'Venty Still's two sections thus far, within two weeks. It is then fair game for anyone who wants to take it further.
Be warned, it is not for the faint hearted. R6 will consume almost anything, corpses are a treat, living meat a delicacy; its tastes are eclectic…
Fair game? What is Tiger Koala doing with that Yucca? Killed it off with his overflow of fluids? Bent it out of spite because it pricked him with sharps? is anything fair with Koalas around? Cute looking maybe but that is how they get what they want — 'charm allure' to beat the jelly beans out of anyone who comes near them. Methinks it will take hardy souls to venture forth into this multi-authored yarn! R6 is nothing compared with a koala scorned!
Queen Gladys of Progressive SciFia: Well may you say 'nothing compared with a koala scorned!', for nothing will save humanity from ReplicatorSix, surely? But then, that's up to the writers who may tackle the tale: do they let the beast devour what's left of us, or somehow give it its comeuppance?
I have to admit to underestimating you Your Majesty, for I was sure you were going to cast nasturtiums at my excessive weight being the cause of bending that Yucca over, in the header picture on the main page in mid February - check through the Headers Archive, later visitors, to see this important piece of Fool's Paradise history. Instead you were rather mild with me, perhaps having an attack of the guilts at all the severe poundings you have subjected my egg shell self esteem to through the years; yes, could you believe it's been more than one year now!
Guilt? That's a laugh. Regrets maybe for not having you tied up in my high tower for me to amuse myself with. but a queen must be gracious and merciful.
I look forward to this battle of the beasties.
Mind you, if ever that Replicator6 finds its way to Scotland it will surely be eaten up by those notorious midgies — I'll swear they wear tartan kilts to hide their vicious weapons.
Let the battle commence!
I have just been reading your "health matters". Seems to me you have been hiding your light under a gum tree, Payton Inkletter.
Having written a thesis and presentation on "healing" I cannot help but go along with much of what you say. The natural medication for cancer is new to me, but I find that very interesting. I will pass it in.
Thank you, and God bless you for these revelations.
(In serious mode):
Gladys: Thank you for your kind words, and yes, please spread the information around, for it may well assist people who are ill with cancers. As I mentioned in this first posting at Health Matters, I plan an extensive rewriting with augmentation and revision of the spiritually motivated option outlined therein; hopefully before this year is out. I don't plan any changes to the dietary information nor the psychological option at this stage.
Only yesterday Janny and I learned of a friend a little older than us who has recently been diagnosed with lymphoma in her neck, and this after my younger cousin Vee in January just past being diagnosed with a throat cancer. I hope the information can help their recoveries.
If you had the time and felt it was appropriate, would you put a synopsis of the main points of your healing thesis online?
I will look at my thesis and see what I can do. It is called "Demons in the cellar, Policemen in the Attic and Christ In My Living Room" "A Reader's perspective of the Christian Healing Ministry in relation to pastoral care."(The idea of Policemen or some other "authority" within our personality seeking to control our thoughts and actions, plus "Demons" (renegade side of personality) is not new. The three-storied house model was used by Dr Frank Lake in a pastoral counselling context). I wrote a much shorter thesis in 1968 looking for the 'thread' common to the many theories and practices of 'supernatural' healing of that time but going back as far as Ancient Egypt. I have read a lot about the subject and have been involved too. Not now.
You did not say what the daily dose was for that mixture. I think people will need to know. (I might have missed it?)
A natural cure for cancer was recently discovered here in my place, and it worked mighty. The discoverer of the magical leaf however insisted that it was not just the leaf that did the healing, but the prayer that goes with it.
Everyday, hundreds of people who take the medicinal leaf, even non-believers, would go to him and he'd pray for them. Many of them were healed, even cancer patients.
The man died last year on December.
It's good to hear about your Mom. I'm sure she will stick around for quite sometime. God bless!
(In serious mode):
Gladys: That is a great title for your thesis, deserving of another thesis just on the title (oops, I just slipped a little out of serious mode!). Thank you for considering a synopsis to help folk.
As for the daily dose (in about the 5th paragraph from the top of Health Matters' Of possible interest to cancer affected folk… posting) of the cottage cheese and flaxseed oil mixture for cancer sufferers, my mother consumed:
3 tablespoons of cottage cheese and 2 tablespoons of flaxseed oil, mixed very well.
She found it not to her liking, but perservered, and this was partly because for her appetite it was a lot of the one thing, as well as not tasting like icecream or chocolate or something yummy.
(In serious mode):
Jothiek: Might you like to put a link, or a description of your own, at your site detailing the magic-medicinal leaf and the process?
Thank you for your sentiments regarding my mother.
Not wishing to be pedantic, but are they flat or rounded spoonfuls of cottage cheese? Is the cottage cheese fat reduced or plain? And it consumed in one go or best given in several doses during the day to avoid vomiting the whole lot up? I need to have answers should I be asked.
(In serious mode):
Gladys: I think that exact ratios and quantities aren't crucial, going by the following information, gleaned from the 3 links I put in the Health Matters' Of possible interest to cancer affected folk… posting, and I know that my mother did not weigh her cottage cheese, meaning that the tablespoons were probably gently rounded, and the oil of course flat. It seems 'low fat' is the recommendation. The cottage cheese (quark) can be substituted by yoghurt or kefir. And jazzing it up with natural flavours and fresh fruit is allowed! It is looking increasingly like none of us will have the excuse to quark it from being unable to stomach the stuff (joke, joke...)
However, there are some more precise suggestions from the links below, even if they don't all completely match:
herbs4healing.com/Flaxseed_Oil/flaxseed_oil:
'She (Dr Budwig) supplemented her patients' diets with 2 tablespoons of flaxseed oil combined with 1/4 cup of cottage cheese.'
cancure.org/budwig_diet:
'A person requires daily about 4 oz. of cottage cheese mixed well with 1.5 oz. of linseed oil. A blender or egg beater works fine. The mixture can be sweetened with honey or otherwise flavored naturally. Fresh fruits can be added.'
'The basis of Dr. Budwig's program is the use of flaxseed oil blended with low-fat cottage cheese.'
The Budwig Protocol in Detail:
'Generally, each tablespoon [Tbs] of Flaxseed Oil (FO) is blended with 2 or
more tablespoons of low-fat organic Cottage Cheese(CC) or quark.
That is a ratio of approximately 1:2.'
'Cottage cheese, quark, homemade yogurt cheese or kefir cheese is OK to use also.'
'Make enough for 1 meal only, avoid storing.'
This last point doesn't exactly tell us that the daily quantity has to be consumed in one go, but storing the prepared mixture for anything much beyond 20 minutes is not recommended, due to rapid rancidity onset problems with the oil. So I cannot answer your questions precisely; however, I do advise that anyone contemplating using the Budwig mixture read these pages to be found at the above 3 links and at my Health Matters page, because they give a valuable perspective and many useful details. As for how much in one go, my intuition suggests that if you can comfortably eat the daily portion in one go, then do; if not, divide it accordingly, but make it fresh each time.
Now, I just found a cautionary note at budwigvideos.com about the blood thinning properties of flaxseed oil, advising aspirin or other blood thinning drug users to consult their doctors for management if they use flaxseed oil. I have just edited this detail into my posting, plus some of the points regarding the non-advisability of storage of the mixture beyond 20 minutes, so your questions, while putting my nose to the grindstone, have had the helpful consequence of prompting me to do some valuable and important editing. Thanks for this Gladys.
I have passed the info on to others who might be interested. I have also passed it on to a member of the family who is very poorly with cancer. I don't know if it will be tried. I know some cancer sufferers can get a lot of ideas and cures thrown at them and I hesitated to mention this medication. My sister, however, told me to tell them about it.
You see, my brother, got sick and tired of well-meaning folk sending him stuff to try, when everything he ate came up again — painfully! That story I wrote called The Sacrifice was about my brother and his long-lasting travail.
However, this young woman has a different cancer and who knows, maybe it will help her.
Hi Inky
Am I so far advanced into senility that I have forgotten your newspaper headlines — Awakening Love? Or have I only just noticed it?
Your site is so packed liked a well-stocked goodies shop that it is difficult to take note of every item.
I thank you from the bottom of my heart (the top too).
How very kind to take so much trouble on my behalf. I only wish you would let me send you the books — no need to give me your address and real name as you can give a name and address of a friend. If Romance does not turn a koala on, then how about my anthology — Still Waters Run Deep?
(In serious mode):
Gladys: I hope the folk you've sent the information on to are fortunate and benefit from it. As for nausea, that's a real challenge, and maybe checking with a doctor on whether maxolon or stemzine or such (or their generic clones) would assist in keeping the food down would be a useful suggestion.
((In normal mode):
Queen Gladys of Newyoktimes Wakeuptoyoselfandsmelltheheadlinesia: All I did was have a photograph taken of myself reading that day's copy of The New York Thyme, so it was a mere trifle.
As for my address, it's the next gum tree, and my name is Payton L. Inkletter, Esquire.
Is that so? Well, I think I had better put Perth, Australia as well. I'll send a copy tomorrow. (If that is not your real name, I should think the whole region is aware of Fools Paradise and who lives there! No problem!)
Just dropped by to say thank you for following my blog, and your comments.
Damyanti: My very great pleasure. I recommend any aspiring writer to visit your wonderful site for practical information and inspiration. It's called 'Writing on writing : Amlokiblogs' and is to be found at http://amloki.blogspot.com.
I don't recall how I found your site, but I count it as another gem found in a field of stones.
I'm worried and downcast. Payton MY koala sparring partner has found another blogger to chat to.
But I yearn most hungrily for his affection
Is my koala hungry too?
Yes, my dear, but not for you!
Woe is me for I am undone!
Must I send him chocolate by the ton
And jelly beans by the score
To arrive tomorrow at his door?
Can I really be that bold?
I think I must be growing old.
My day is darkened by my loss
Oh it sure does make me cross!
I'll have to visit this other wench
And from her clutches, Payton wrench!
Queen Gladys of Understandably Obsessive Affection:
'Twould appear your brilliant bear of pen and paper;
Has acquired even yet another most pretty gaper;
So should you find yourself the subject of consternation;
Even at risk from random frequent hyperventilation;
Then pull yourself together girl and be mature;
Please disport oneself with behaviour more demure;
For Payton was claimed from under a park bench;
By one alabaster dragon also known as the Wench;
Saved from the vagrancy police and certain custody;
Only to be flung into a dungeon wholly matrimony;
Thus low are the odds of his sucking a country gooseberry;
While the frilly knickered lizard guards the old gum tree.
(Disclaimers, apologies, denials, and defenses: This itty bitty ditty was written in a hurry, trying to be smarter than I really am, and whilst high on cocoa. I hope Damyanti is not frightened away…)
Okay, so you are the better poet,
I visit here enough to know it,
But that doesn't mean you love the more
Than this old biddy here at your door.
This new arrival? Who can tell —
Maybe she'll make your life just HELL!
Then the laugh will be on me
While you drink cocoa, I'll sip tea.
And Lady Inky will grasp the nettle
Raw you'll be and needing Dettol!
(You better believe it!)
Queen Gladys of Cryptic Euphemismia:
Well, I've never heard it called 'the nettle' before,
Of that one thing lexical and literary I can be sure;
'Wee-wee', 'tiddler', 'schmackle', 'donger', and 'pinky',
Such terms of endearment do leave the lips of Missus Inky;
And yes the frilly knickered lizard is gentle neither mild nor,
Little wonder poor Payton's overworked tossle is red and raw!
(Again, profuse apologies for all those of drawing room sensitivities who chance by; I really am much more upstanding than these nitty gritty ditties imply.)
It's not within my power to know
Exactly what bruising nettling will show.
But one thing certain, if you please,
Don't show photos of Lizard's big tease!
My dear Inkletter, is this site called Phools' Paradise or POOs Paradise?
Some shortcomings?
Or problems with long commethings?
Likely your diet.
Never mind all that. Maybe you can help a dimwit?
I have been looking to see how I can get a counter or whatever. I can't even find the info for visits to the profile. Much time spent in useless activity. (No comment please about all my blogs being useless activity - they are my babies.
PLEEEEEEEEEEEASE?
Gladys: Who goes with the jokes about pugos? Anyway, that headline at 'In other news...' of April 28 2009 - 'INNALOO: Never send to know for whom the poo smells; it smells for thee, a philosophical Payton L. Inkletter concludes his ponderings upon the throne' - could yet be the first public expression of one of my alter egos, Paytain de Inkletter-Bottom, famous and infamous Antipodean philosopher. Be all that as it may, meanwhile, you ask about a counter:
I can only share with you my experience with the only one I've used to date, the free version from Statcounter. If you go to their homepage at http://www.statcounter.com/ you will see, on the right side of this page 'Get Started! It's easy and free - just 4 simple steps:...' and it really is as easy as they say, and they lead you through the process click by click, so long as you know how to add a 'widget' to your page template. The code that Statcounter generates for you has to be inserted into the widget, which you then move to wherever you wish it to sit on your page.
It might sound difficult, however, as much as it still hurts me to say much good about Blogspot, their method for adding widgets is simple enough. Get to it Gladys! And I will forgive you for your defecatory remarks.
To Whom it may Interest: Oh! I wonder how many non Western Australian folk, among my billions of daily visitors, would have any idea that 'Innaloo' is a suburb of Perth?
Travelling west along Scarborough Beach Road, many a tourist has been struck with a sense of farce, as they read in disbelief the sign 'Khyber Pass', as they enter the suburb.
You can imagine the toileting these longsuffering residents have been bucketed with ever since their suburb's name was gazetted! And yours truly has been guilty, over the life of his Fool's Paradise websites, of taking the piss out of them also, and he has every intention of so arsing about many more times yet. Yes, it stinks, and it'd give me the shits if I lived there, but fair pull of the chain, there's nothing like a good laugh daily, and while this subject might put the wind up these hapless residents of the common throne, they have the trump card when it comes to papering over the cracks.
Innaloo City Council's motto, above their chamber steps, is 'FIBRE!'
Innaloo or out of it, Payton you are a scream!
Never mind all that though. Thanks to you, I took up the challenge and now have all three of my blogspots with counters. And yes, it was easy enough for a simpleton like me to tackle. I'm not sure if it counts one's own visits. I have to admit my Ask Gran Hobson blog is not exactly weighed down by visitors — the other two (Writing For Joy and Gladys Hobson — Author) have only just had the counter installed.
All this IT stuff is incredible.
Now, your post today. I quote a piece of it: 'given what she did to me and got from me yesterday afternoon'. Oh so tantalising! You leave your readers drooling...
What does Lady Inky think of these remarks?
Gladys: It's good to learn that you've got counters installed on your websites; I find my StatCounter widgets give me useful feedback. The geographical information about visitors isn't always accurate, but the times and durations of visits appear to be.
Now I see that you've just read my 'In other news...' post for Monday, May 18, 2009. I have since completed the riveting news for that day, of which you only got a snippet. You'll find it here:
'POKHRAN: Frowning Bhudda said: "Not happy, Indira!" Payton L. Inkletter said: "Lets hope Australia never pursues a Smiling Kangaroo Crispy Barbecue..." * That tantalizing quote of which you speak, refers to an encounter of the previous day, which is now posted also (I regularly make 'earlier' postings 'later', if that makes any sense! But then sense can sometimes take some searching for in Fool's Paradise.) Find it at:
GREENWICH: "Prescient?": Payton L. Inkletter: "Today is the day after W.A. rejected daylight saving for the 4th time, 93 years after Britain started." * At this above link you will read of the terrifying sexual skirmish, but here's a taste: 'Towards mid afternoon the rapacious reptile began undressing me with her eyes, and I knew I was a goner, with submission my only hope, given her history and track record when I resist. And so, as long term readers know only too well, she cast me off like a desert bleached spare rib bone after committing repeated acts of carnal knowledge upon and with me...'
What does Lady Inky think of all this published dirt? I'm too afraid to ask!
I just ate seven ants and one caterpillar.
And I loved it.
But onto more pressing news.....
thunder and lightning very very frightening me!
Ah this encounter needs more investigating - I will return once I have completed this proof read of my book. (There is only so much reading my sore eyes can manage and my nervous excitement can tolerate.)
As regard counters - mine just count I think. And do my own visits to see if it is working count?
KoolKoala: Long time no hear! Was the caterpillar a 'spitfire'? And I heard that the ants are biting.
Gladys: If you have installed StatCounter's counter, and you took it's recommended option, it will provide geographical information. If you click on the 'Recent Visitor Activity' link at the 'Summary' page, you will find this and other additional data.
And I do understand the limits to nervous excitement; you are wise to avoid the risk of over stimulation.
My goodness what a lot of info you get with these counters - thanks.
Now I am wondering if it is worth carrying on with the Blogspot sites! Of course, the counters have only just been activated so I'll see how it goes. There is no doubt that my wordpress site gets the most attention. So what?!
Now down to business. I see you have an unusual photo at the start of your blog. Where was it taken? Perth? Quite dramatic.
What's all this about eating ants and creepycurlies? Does not sound like koala fare to me. Or maybe even the animals are as odd as the inmates of Phools Paradise? Have jelly beans become less popular? Is chocolate out of fashion? Or are insects chocolate coated down under? Ah, now that might just catch on -mmmm.
Gladys: Ants and caterpillar culinary fare? That is a question for KoolKoala. However, judging by the standard of said furry one's occasional toe in the water here, poetry excepted, he/she/it is possibly unable to give a coherent reply.
That photo to which you refer as dramatic: thank you, it was taken by moi but 11 hours ago in Perth city, looking west down Hay Street, Perth's main street, into the sun as it was preparing to throw in the towel for the day. I was giving my disabled friend and client Bob his periodic outing in the city. We make a memorable sight, for he is a human about 5 feet 7 inches high, while I am a bull koala (red blooded), about 12 inches high when sitting, 18 inches when walking... but don't revive that subject Gladys!
For the billions of future visitors who will wonder where it is after I have replaced it with new headers at the Main Site, it will be found in the posting at HEADERS ARCHIVE p2: Images of unspeakable beauty - cry your eyes out, and its particular link is: PaytonL.InkletterinHayStreetnearsundown
Of course, because I am in the picture and Bob can't take photos, I had to set the old cheap but wonderful Olympus D-535 on timer, and scamper back and sit beside the tree trunk in the background.
I climbed a tree today, and from above I saw the green leaves, hazy sky and chocolate pie.
oh la la la, quids a plum, oh la la la, i have a sore bum....
KoolKoala: Well don't tell me that quixotic furry beast from the Antipodes is back again! Sense, as always, is as thin as the foliage on a boab tree. But that isn't necessarily a problem at Fool's Paradise.
That KK koala's not so cool
Seems to me he's just a fool.
Though climbing trees is pretty good
Falling down into the mud
Will bruise his ego then we'll see
How cool he is to climb that tree.
Dwellers of Fool's Paradise
Clear your head, take my advice —
Shut your gate, keep on guard,
Post up a sign KK YOU ARE BARRED!
PS
If you don't keep your sticky paws out of the Jelly Bean jar you'll end up as voluptuously heavyweight as me!
tonight i had a soda
bubbles up my nose
i spoke like yoda
and tickled my own toes!
now onto more important things
gladys is very very strange
perhaps she has a bad case of mange?
so now let me guess
what will come next
this poem is bad
and i'm a cad
well bottom to you!
Gladys and KoolKoala: That went well…
And that is where it should go —
disused well, of course.
Drink that sort of stuff
and your thirst will be worse.
True it is, my hair is thin
But at least my fruit juice
Is not drunk with gin.
Koala is cool?
He's just a big fool!
I'm a studly strapping male koala, looking for similar to share good times, long walks on the beach, and the odd eucalyptus oil rub down....
you seem my type... i think we could have something beautiful....
let me know, mr payton....
P.S. I can be very discreet
First a comment on your waking hours. I am seriously reconsidering your status. Are there koala vampires? And, having read your yesterday's diary, Do they live at Balingup not Puppinyup (as you may well have been misleading me all this time.)
Now a statement regarding this BullKoala.
BEWARE. I had a most unwelcome 'comment' on my Wrinkly Writers yesterday (removed of course — I don't want flagrant advertising, especially of THAT type, on my web site). Pamper to this character and before long he will be trying to sell you bulls milk to drink with your cocoa and jelly beans.
Everyone: Well, wouldn't you know it! The other day I decided to disable 'comment moderation' on this site for the first time since its inception in March last year, so folk's comments will instantly appear, and while it was a risk, I still can turn it back on if it becomes a problem, as well as delete anything too problematic. And then BullKoala's comment arrives unmoderated!
BullKoala: Correct me if I'm mistaken good sir, but you appear to have a minority gender preference tweak in your DNA, or in your cranium, or is it in the gonads? Ahah! - this keen observation of mine, if accurate, catches you out as not a real koala bear, because everyone knows that no Australians are hommoseksuwals. There are but two countries in the word that have no hommoseksuwals, these being my Antipodes, and Iran.
If in any doubt about this latter state of affairs, refer to 'THE PLANTAGENET: “You dung punching Yanks are living in a fools' paradise!” President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad thunders' (while reminding yourself that the foolhardy visitors to most any and all Fool's Paradise - Infinity on a Shoestring sites are warned that they could be offended by the good natured yet rugged non-PC style inhabiting their ethereal halls), which was a comment he was heard to make on the phone in his dressing room by a journalist from that respected southwestern Australian Great Southern broadsheet, THE PLANTAGENET PLENIPOTENTIARY, who was covering the Iranian President's infamous 2007 Columbia University address. His address is worth googling - 'no gays in Iran' is the search term. I'm also pretty certain there are no koalas in Iran, or at least outside of their zoos if they've got any.
So mate, or 'frillymate' if that helps, I'll have to decline your offer, as I'm strictly a red blooded crumpet loving bull koala, the hotter the better, and it must be buttered on both sides.
Gladys: I wondered how long it would take you to work out the hours thing! And Balingup has tremendous sentimental value for the Inkletter clan, for that is where the preternaturally pulchritudinate lost her innocence but not her virginity, for that happened AFTER we married (having said that, we sure made up for lost time!), when she met me there. Also the same event marks her leaving the dark ages…
But do rest assured, I won't pamper to wussy frilly knickers BullKoala, as my hard hitting if not brutal knock-back above attests…
dont't know which backwards part of Australia your from my frillymate, but the rest of us flaming koalas know that to 'butter both sides' is to swing BOTH ways :) !!!!!!
was that a subtle loophole you gave me?
i understand your need to be discreet, please contact me at redhotspankinkoala@hotmail.com to get your paws wet!
BullKoala: I note you obviously have a sense of humour, so I am warming to you, but not seksuwally.
In another place (HEADERS ARCHIVE p1: Images of unspeakable beauty - cry your eyes out) I have said in a comment: 'I not only have been places and done everything, I know everything as well.' However, I speak in approximations, for I have just had the rare experience of learning something from a visitor (!), for I do agree, to 'butter both sides' does sound a smidgeon ambiguous, and so I could imagine those having a bet both ways might be described as 'buttering both sides'.
However, I staunchly stand my ground, and suggest you note that it is the SUBJECT 'crumpet' in my bold statement 'I'm strictly a red blooded crumpet loving bull koala, the hotter the better, and it must be buttered on both sides' that is to be well buttered (both sides), and hot, and direct you to The Probert Encyclopaedia, an online resource, where 'crumpet' is defined thus: 'British slang for a woman, women.' HARRUMPH!
you learned a thing or two from the charming sounding Bull (I'm definitely interested Mr Bull... just drop me a line and I shall come a runnin'), now its time to learn something from good old Kool....
payton, you need to get yourself a makeover! you need a jammin' style. you need some hair gel, a goatie, a pinstripe suit and some leather shoes! and try not to talk too much, your mouth gets you into more trouble than all of your hideous fashion mistakes combined!
pronto.
I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you are a laughing stock at the KoalaKlub, your name is mud!
get yourself together!
Are you going to let that little squirt (cool? he should be shut in a fridge - permanently!) speak to a cultured koala such as yourself, Payton?
Mind you, certain remarks posted on this site might well give the impression that Fools Paradise is rather an unwelcome place for those with alternate preferences.
I am wondering if I would find a welcome since I prefer liquorice allsorts to jelly beans, and a pleasant cup of weak tea to Aussie-stand-your-spoon-up-in-it-girl stuff.
KoolKoala: All I learned from BullKoala is that he's full of bull, and so are you!
Gladys: KoolKoala is a harmless piece of fluff surely? I don't want to resort to censorship in any but the worst cases (which explains why I've been very close to this last resort with many of your comments [ho ho ho!]), plus I'm a big boy (!) now, so I can take it.
'…Fool's Paradise is rather an unwelcome place for those with alternate preferences': heaven forbid! I am stung, I really am. 'Uncomfortable' sometimes perhaps, 'unwelcome' never. I've said it before, I'll say it again: some, nay, many, of my very best friends are pooftas. I love pooftas, I love straights, I love everyone; (*love is the desire for good for another*; +paytontedwithlove+).
Yes, I'm politically incorrect, but I've found that the PC world is an insipid and boring place inhabited by wusses with little passion, and less humour.
Oh you sensitive koala! I merely state 'give an impression' knowing full well the open door policy with a koala on the mat at Phools' Paradise. (You see how I include many fools not a Paradise for one fool) as I know this to be true.
So wipe your tears and find solace in a strong cocoa - sipped slowly.
I regard this little exchange as being highly valuable - lest any visitor might take your remarks seriously, knowing the character of the Aussie male. And if you are VERY good I might let you choose from my packet of Allsorts (as long as you don't pick the coconut one or the aniseed).
Gladys: I can always rely on you, my great friend and smitten admirer (and who could blame you?) for saying nice things about me when it really matters.
As usual also, your prescience amazes me, for I have not long finished a huge mug of cocoa, unsweetened and so strong most grown men would flee, hiding their faces lest the tears be seen (my facility of description fails me for what a poofta would do…). When I say 'huge', I mean, well, I wouldn't want to fall into the thing. I bought two a couple of weeks back from our Big W department store, and Missus Inkletter had to wheel one out in her trolley, and I had to wheel the other out in mine.
Really? Why not put wheels on it and you can shop with it, bath in it - any place you want to, as well as half drown yourself in cocoa?
pssst.... want to see a different side of payton? one his bristly writing on this site try to hide?
check out my exposing pictures of payton at:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/koolkoala/
prepare to be shocked....!
Shocked? Ah, isn't he sweet, the little darling. I'd love to cuddle the dear little man.
Always knew him to be a jelly bean - hard exterior, softy inside.
awww, a cuddle for little payty-poo, you will make him blush!
he does like a little tickle too, on his fat and furry tum-tum
Really? Send him over. Looks like he might need a little surgery too. That is, unless he has developed the skills of those Japanese wrestlers.
Send me the name of his outfitter. My hubby would look great in some of that gear. Although maybe that is a fringe too far!
As for you kid, stay out of trouble and keep your powder dry. You are just too nosy for your own good. One of these days, you will be caught and find your gear stuck in the mangle.
payton did a poo
he smells like me and he smells like you
oh laa laa laaaaaaaa
fa laa laa laaaaaaaa
*curtsey*
Well, if Payton shares my aroma, he is indeed a pleasant garden-scented individual.
As for you, kid, clean up your act — your excreta is showing.
Everyone: My my my! How the mice do play when the cat's away! Or should I say mouse? Or rat? - to be more reflective of the qualities of one low temperature koala.
I left at sparrows on Monday morning to drive south 250 km to Balingup for almost three days to have a reunion with the most beautiful woman in the southern hemisphere, Missus Inkletter, and barely had the dust settled as I spun the wheels down the drive than KoolKoala goes and posts saucy photos of a koala bear, supposedly me. I deny it's me; I deny it left, I deny it right, and I deny it centre; I deny it back, I deny it front, I deny it top, and I deny it bottom. And anyway, the photos don't have the birthmark near my privates.
KoolKoala: I hope one day that some mean sod posts equivalent photos purporting to be you on the net.
Gladys: What a true friend! Defending me in my absence, even when not absolutely sure whether I had posed nude for real.
I hope your days away were blessed with joy and sweet communion (not only of the choc and jelly bean kind).
That KoolKoala chappie sure does get your goat. Let him keep it — it just might give him a toss where it most hurts!
you deny it bottom?
hmmm.... have to post some ass shots next, and i ain't talking about no donkey!
watch this space...
That KK has a problem. Maybe his potty training was too severe.
Gladys: Maybe KK's potty training was most successful: this denizen of the eucalyptine cybercanopy would have to be the most potty visitor here ever!
And thank you for your warm wishes for my stay at Balingup with the spicy specimen aka Missus Inkletter; and needless to say, she pounced and ravished me barely moments after being alone (not that that stops her, but it affects me); the poor thing, she has needs, and hadn't seen me for over two weeks; when I finally escaped from the saucy seductresses' carnal grip I fled into the cold full moon light night and walked alone for an hour and a half into the depths of the surreally beautiful deathly silent wilds above the Homestead, Nannup Tiger territory, until midnight. Only then did I feel safe to return to the venal voluptuary's boudoir.
And on Wednesday instant I brought the mind altering bug home, and now it's back to the subtle domestic violence routine she wages upon me: five star food and mountains of it, popped into my mouth every time I open it; cooking, washing, ironing, dishes done. Death by love it's called, and the coroners miss it every time…
TOUGH!
Gladys: It's HELL actually. (I can recommend Hell...)
Do you do B&B?
Gladys: Knowing you of old as I do, I must assume that 'B&B' means something kinky in the bedroom (and I don't mean eggs over easy for breakfast), or kitchen, or back garden, or, knowing you suppressed but objecting British, the front porch; I note that I was just discussing two forms of punishment administered regularly to me by Missus Inkletter, the one above the navel, the other below it.
So to answer your question: NO! All our conjugals are normal, legal, and as nature intended (apart from the incessant regularity, extreme duration and gluttonous quotient of gratification demanded of me by the misty-eyed mistress).
Ah, as I suspected, the aussies speak little English and much of that which bulls are famous for.
It seems that unlike in the UK where travellers are offered BandB - Bed and Breakfast - you go further in that which you supply. As to whether the traveller would get much rest from being entertained so liberally is another matter. By morning he (or she) would be ready for the yard where poor old horses meet their fate. At least in Phools Paradise he would meet his fate with his mouth filled with jelly beans and his lips coated with chocolate.
as requested, a sexy bum shot of the amazing mr p......
on a non related note, i have started up a small venture selling my varnished turds as paperweights/ice cube novelties/general household items.
If interested, please drop me a private line..
A sudden stop at Kennedy's Sewing Centre? Mrs Inkletter got you all stitched up?
And what is that pup up to on the latest intro shot? What's more, what is Inkletter down to?
Was this before or after the business at Kennedy's?
Kool Koala?
Not so cool, man.
The only product you'll sell is
SHAMpoo!
KoolKoala: We care about you, we really do…
Gladys Anonymous: Not only has Missus Inkletter, aka The Material Girl, got me in stitches, she's got me all sewn up. Now she wants to watch it, for she likely will reap what she sews.
That header shot - currently still at the Main Site - (which for the billions upon billions of later visitors during ensuing millennia, is a GIF image with the long title of 'F'sP header PaytonL.Inkletter'sfootsniffedbyChai,atBridgetown,ofLisa&Martha [P6090333] 600W X 320H', to be found in the Headers Archive page two), was an action shot of a vicious and terrifying attack by a six week old Shitzu-Maltese cross puppy named 'Chai' upon me, innocently minding my own business, during our recent visit to Bridgetown south of Balingup; yes, before our Kennedys Sewing Centre visit.
I was traumatized, and treated at Bridgetown Hospital for shock, as were several dozen witnesses. I won't be pressing charges against the puppy's lovely owner, one Lisa, who is still in counselling.
Kool Koala - don't believe it.
As for PLI - Mrs I is quite capable of needling you any time she desires. What out where she puts it!
As for the darling puppy - he's the one who should be getting damages. How confused must the little chap be? A koala who does not smell like one (unless he's been dipped in Kool Koala's recent products) nor does he sound like one! No doubt he wanted to see if you yelled like one.
The pup should get a medal in Puppingup!
Gladys Anonymous: Whose side are you on! That animal is doubtlessly, at this very moment, at almost seven and a half weeks old, terrorizing the young, the middling, and the elderly, bailing them up flailing among the flotsam and jetsam of their flung-in-fright groceries in some dingy hope-forsaken back alley in Bridgetown on the way to their parked cars, or menacing some poor widow trying to get to her doctor's appointment for treatment for severe loneliness but afraid to even wind her window down. I stared at the spectre of my blood dripping from its milk teeth, I beheld my mortality in the stark reflection from its glistening little doe eyes…
And my how confused you are getting! It is I who needles Missus Inkletter aka the ravishing rapacious ravisher whenever she puts the hard word on me; I've learnt not to resist her, for when I have in the past, she starts with the rougher than usual handling. I am delicate, and I bruise easily.
There, there, now. Poor little mite. Diddums dodums to little chappie just out of his nappy?
Shame on that monster pup!
pfffffffft
And what is that supposed to mean?
Time these anonymous people acquired a little education.
What has happened? What was beyond the door? And what about that poor savaged creature on a completely blood-stained sofa?
Alas poor Payton, I knew you well.
Now it seems, you're suffering hell.
Doggy strong has got you trapped
On yonder sofa where you napped.
The door it opened and in he came
Now Payton won't be out again
Until recovery is complete
And he can stand upon his feet.
Get well soon
X and a HUG
KoolKoala: As for those risqué photos, they're obviously not of me, as I told you before; the additional ones prove it all the more for at least two reasons: no birthmark near my privates; and, no privates!
Gladys: You of course, in your verse, (and as always not averse to empathizing with this hapless koala bear) refer to the current header at the main site (eventually headed for the 'Headers Archive', that ethereal home for all my headers when they die), which is a shocking depiction of an attack by a vicious Shar Pei puppy upon myself.
And to think this comes hot on the puppy dog heels of another attack in Bridgetown by a six week old ferocious Shitzu Maltese cross. Barely had I recovered from that mauling than this latest one happened.
And thank you for coming to my side when under harassment by the uncultured anonymii who swing by with their comments.
It is not difficult to empathise with a koala. Years ago I studied Counselling Skills. Part of the course was to empathise with others within a group. We were each given the task of drawing an animal that we thought represented each of the members. We passed the sheets around so that we received 16 views (one from each of the other members plus the leader).
Interesting.
Maybe it had something to do with age (can't think it could be wisdom) but I had a number of owls. Cat, dogs etc. BUT one picture was of a koala bear. It was the year of Australian forest (bush?) fires and it seemed many koalas survived their terrible ordeals. It was our leader who saw me with that inner strength. Not so sure myself. But you, Payton, are wonderful. May you ever go on helping others in spite of your own problems (being physically savaged and emotionally spent) and may Phools Paradise be ever there to amuse and comfort.
AnonymousGladymi: Funny thing, but I had a similar experience some years ago at a course for browbeaten and self-doubting spouses: 23 of us had to draw an animal that represented our fellow participants plus one of ourselves, and 22 drew me as a singular rippling zhuzzy pizazzistic electrifying archetypical maximated and repleted stallion, in various poses, while my own drawing of myself was that of a crushed tender delicate hapless aspirational optimistic and quivering fledgling dove, about to make its first leap from the comfort and love of its meringue kiss parental nest, into the great yawning bottomless thankless succourless chasm of the terrifying emasculating unforgivingness of the unknown.
'But you Payton, are wonderful'; who could disagree with that? Your kind words are much appreciated Gladys, and for that you can have one virtual jelly bean (but not a ruby one).
Love the space outfit! I have heard of jugged hare but jarred koala (in jelly bean sauce?) is something else! You must hold the record for a koala holding his breath.
Well Done Inky!
Why didn't you get a knighthood?
Gladys: As you of all folk know, I am a bear of near infinite talents. And so it would naturally come as little surprise to you that I beat Neil Armstrong to the moon. Being modest to the point of excruciation, I have only ever let out my myriads of incredible achievements in dribs and drabs, and I don't intend to change this modus operandi. Yes, the Aussie astronaut airless space environment technique I pioneered does develop massive, almost unbelievable, lung capacity; it still makes the people I tell, especially the womenfolk, breathless, just to imagine it.
Funny you should bring up the subject of knighthood, nay, that you all but bemoan the fact that I, of all illustrious subjects of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Second, don't have one: unknown to most all I have been assiduously knocking back three offers for about two years now, the first from Buckingham Palace, the Order of the Bath - motto: 'Tria iuncta in uno; euco, hydro, furro': 'Three things joined in one; eucalyptus, water, fur'; and perhaps surprisingly for those who don't know of my exquisite singularity, the other two: one from the Holy See: the Order of St. Sylvester Pope and Martyr; and one from a secret Japanese Samurai lineage back to Minamoto no Yoritomo: the Order of Mutant Ninja Phascolarctos cinereus Fuji Sushi Pushi Pooh.
Shortly after I launched Fool's Paradise - Infinity on a Shoestring I was contacted by Buckingham Palace with, as the Poms described it, a several decades overdue offer of a knighthood, and within days I had the Micks and the Nips hassling me as well. It's now at the stage of being telegrammed weekly, and the offers have progressed to begging.
However, being the egalitarian ocker that I am, and am likely to remain, 'Sir' doesn't sit comfortably on my broadly broad furry shoulders, nor 'Your Wholliness', nor 'Pooh San'. This doesn't mean never. And if I do succumb, and finally let the brown-nosers knight me, I will become very hard to contact.
Where is the comment I was sent in answer to mine?
Never mind.
Though you may not want a knighthood, there are two alternatives:
MBE
and
OBE
You know what they are don't you?
(regarding such as yourself?)
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