From: kibo@world.std.com (James "Kibo" Parry)
Subject: Re: Kathy was a Taxi Cab Driver
Organization: Two rooms filled with typography, in downtown Boston
Date: Mon, 9 Nov 1992 05:48:16 GMT

In article <1992Nov9.052827.27235@tc.cornell.edu> mdw@theory.TC.Cornell.EDU (Matt Welsh) writes:
>I've changed the format a little, for added readability and wasted space.
>Comments are greatly appreciated.

I would deconstruct it if I weren't a dork.

>Kathy was a Taxi Cab Driver
>
>	"I am very whacked-out," quoth Jim, who was having acupuncture work 
                  ^ insert 'weed'                         ^ change to
                                                           'inaccupuncture'
>done by a twelve-week-old sea otter on cocaine. I was wrapped up listening to 
>Manheim Steamroller on my portable nuclear-powered five-disc CD entertainment 
                                                         ^^^^  ^ redundant
                                                         change to '5-disk C'
>system, and almost missed my feathered friend's quip. 
>	"Just because your epidermis is being systematically punctured by 
>slender, pointed steel barbs is so reason to renounce your Platonic view of 
 ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^       ^^^^^ redundant, unless you introduce a dull
                              barb, such as the first lady
>our surroundings," I advised. 
>	"Yes, I wholeheartedly concur," slurred the otter, who took another 
                ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ cliche'--change to 'grok your stock'
>hit while sterilizing the next needle to impale Jim's shoulder. 
>	"And someone give me one good reason to ever call Frank's Sea World and 
                                                    insert '-Monkey' ^
>Acupuncture Palace ever again", Jim vociferated, and I, as the acting 
>conciliar-on-duty, decided to address his supplication. 
>	"Jim, apart from the obvious fact that Frank's is the only Sea World 
>and Acupuncture Palace within a 30-mile radius, we also have a coupon for 50% 
>off any full-body otter work after 3 p.m. Plus he's doing a damn good job." 
>	Obviously unimpressed by my mild compliment, the otter only shook his
>glistening blood-stained whiskers at me and said, "Correct you are, my foul-
>smelling bipedal associate, but said coupon expired on December 31, 1973, and 
          ^^^^^^^ not counting training wheels
>therefore you are inelligible for any discount."
>	"Damn!" I yalped, and at that exact same instant the otter belched,
                  ^^^^^^ change to 'rolfed'
>Jim let out a groan of superficial pain and loathing, and my cat Frisky fell
>into the paper shredder. The sound resulting from the constructive and 
>destructive interference of the various aural waves was remarkably close to
                                         ^^^^^ change to 'oral'
>the "fear call" of the adult male West African Gorilla, and fortunately I had
                                  ^ insert 'Adam'
>my portable DAT recorder nearby to capture the sound in all of its 40-bit
>digital brilliance.                                                   ^^^
 ^^^^^^^ redundant, since bit is 'binary digit'
>	Bored with this menial discourse, I flipped through the TV Guide to see 
>what was playing on HBO. At midnight there was a special "under cover" look at
>Native American Floral Decorating Customs, hosted by none other than Traci
>Lords, and the TV Guide "Close-Up" had this to say about the documentary: 
                ^^^^^^^^ TV Guide sucks and should try Crest, not Close-Up
>"Grab yourself a chili dog and some vaseline and join us for a fun-filled 
                                     ^ Vaseline(R) brand petroleum jelly
>expedition into the wild plains of northern Utah where we'll meet up with 
>famous Native American florist He-Lifts-Troughs-of-Water-Alluringly... we'll
>see just exactly what goes into a traditional Hopi Birthday Arrangement or a
                                               ^^^^ Hopi language has no words
                                  for past and present, therefore no birthdays
>Mohican 'Get Well Soon' Basket when faced with oppression by white explorers,
                               'people of de-saturated color' ^^^^^
>starvation, and lack of good fertile planting soil on the Great Frontier. 
>Hosted by porn queen Traci Lords, with special guests Bob Dylan, James 'Kibo'
>Parry, and Alice from the Brady Bunch. Music by Deee-Lite."
            ^^^^^ Her nude, partially dismembered torso was found in
                  Sam The Butcher's meat locker when Bobby and Greg got
                  locked in.
>	I was utterly and unerringly convinced that this programme was the
                          ^ prepend 'h' (note: NOT Preperation H(R))
>epitome of Native American Floral Decorating documentaries, and was determined
>that I would either watch it in its 6-hour entirety or videotape it into
>segments to peruse on subsequent evenings when nothing much was going on. 
>Suddenly without warning there was a loud knock on the door, and before I 
          ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ I hate those early-warning pre-knock detectors
>could shout "Come in" an entire platoon from the 34th Light Infantry, just back                          armed with lightsabers  ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
>from northern Laos, burst into my living room and demanded rations and medical
      ^^^^^^^^ Laos, which is a ring-shaped country located around the
               North Pole, is *all* northern in exactly the same way.
>supplies, as well as a telephone to call in backup as they had a large number
>of casualties and wounded in the front yard. Instantly the otter jumped to
                                  ^^^^^^^^^^ change to 'head', then set
                                             the story on a ship
>attention and went forth to tend to the acupuncture needs of the injured
>troops, leaving Jim on the couch like a human pincushion. Unsure of what I
>could offer to the infantrymen I brought out a few cans of Beanie-Weenies
                                           Beanee Weenee(R) ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
>and some cotton balls. The officer in charge was thrilled and assured me that
>I would receive distinction for prompt action in the heat of battle, and
>that "Those god damn Reds won't know what hit them."
>	"War is Hell," I offered blithely, but the platoon commander was 
         ^^^^^^^^^^^ so what?
>already on the chopper, heading back to his occupation which, according to the
>other officers, consisted primarily of laying face-down in rice paddies with 
>mortar shells flying overrhead. They were less eager to get back into the 
>action so I invited them to stay and watch the Floral Decorating documentary,
>and maybe play some air hockey afterwards.
                         ^^^^^^ change to 'guitar'

Also, take out those damn verbs.
							-- K.