Kerbit's Day

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The lucky dog that gets to "wear the squirrel" is rewarded with many delicious treats, provided he doesn't eat the squirrel.

The once obscure Kerbit's Day, a Prusso-Gaelic mid-level holy day, is gaining popularity among British and American Prussian-Irish immigrants and their pets. The origins of the sacred day are universally believed by most scholars to be an ancient pagan celebration of the invention of the cosmological constant. People from what is now the Belgian coast all the way to Croatia, north into Denmark and as far south as Mt. Kilimanjaro would gather by the hundreds, adherents all to the cult of the Goddess Shaekesse'sula, and perform complicated worship maneuvers on the Plains of Cacklebury.

In the early days of Catholicism, local Patriarchs appointed by the Pontiff spread across the lands of King Mittelschmerz of Al Ul. One by one, local pagan religious officials called "pontifical defecators" were appointed to the stubs and villages of the good people, and one by one, they came under the dominion of the Holy Roman Empire.

What's happening now[edit]

Looking at my horrible user page, I reacquaint myself with my early work. These days it's using an ipad, not a PC. I find myself to have been an excellent writer with a sparking personality and longish hair. I must say that I feel like total shit today. It's not unexpected, since my vagus nerve has been naughty. Still, I'm garrulous and pensive, cutting my lounge chair slowly with a pairing knife[1].

As I write this tomb[2], belching hyenas encroach upon the nether regions of my back yard, no doubt seeking squirrels. I am on a one-home gentrification project. Lathering, feisty trolls shall celebrate the coming of the hyenas for years to come. Mortified neighbors will call the police, again. They know they can't do anything. I have rights!

The wreckage of normalcy if often overlooked in business circles. Normally, normalcy carries a whiff of the sigmoidoscopy. The radical kind. You know, the one where the pilot stands of the step still, and she's got her leg on the mantelpiece... damn... slipped... fell, into' Monty Python's Flying Circus...... again. The devil is behind it, no doubt. "Roll Tide", says the devil, mocking Jesus on His home turf. We're he to do so both in Alabama and Missouri, deviltry would have dealt blows to Protestsnts and Mormons alike.

Let's go make things out of egg cartons[edit]

It started with


  1. A Norwegian blade designed to make a thing into a pair of half things.
  2. Technically, this article is a tomb for bat-shit blathering. Bury the whole thing under 100 feet of dirt and plant IllogiTrees on it.