Another body was found at the Thomas Township Bar,Grill and car wash and appears to be the latest in a string of victims of a back alley nipple pinkener and sphincter de- wrinkler. Police believe that they nearly caught the culprit as they found the scene of the latest ‘attack’ hastily abandoned with the fiends tools of torture left behind; beakers of anus starch paste, basting brushes, nipple pickling juice, a soldering iron, pepto bismol, electro-statically charged calamine based elephant grease, gravity boots and ,in a stroke of luck, a client list indicating that among the seven victims there have been at least twenty successful nipple pinkenings in the Thomas Township area. This list was leaked to the Mindtapped Blogmaster by Officer Cletus C. Corduroy who lives at 1326 S. River Road and wishes to remain anonymous. Clients appear to include Township Manager Douglas Roughinham and the entire management staff of the local Home Depot from department heads up to the District Manager.

Clients range from young to old, every religion and race, but all suffer from abnormally, unnaturally and prematurely browning of nipples and sphincter. Desperate to feel pretty they subject themselves to questionable procedures by even more questionable characters eager to cash in on the victims vulnerability.

Signs that someone has undergone a procedure of this type include; walking bowlegged, shiny nipples, leprosy, Hinduism, swollen bones, toothpick like stool, glowing brain syndrome, aloofness, spontaneously solving for three variables with only two equations, foreshortening, crossing over into the second dimension, not believing in dogs or spoons, and world championship pro-thumb wrestling.

If you notice any of these symptoms in your loved ones the FBI and
KFC ask that you call and turn them in for immediate dissection, questioning and Guantanamo like photo shoots- in that order.

The suspect is variously described as a man, a woman, an African- American, a Martian – American, an American-American, a Hyphenated-American, a cod, a Jaguar, an amoeba, a Nat-Geo Special, the tooth of an Alaskan albino shrew and a triple-chinned anorexic. The only consistency in the descriptions is that the suspect makes abundant use of alliteration , consonance and assonance.

If you have any tips  regarding the nipple pinkening and sphincter de-wrinkling case, or just want to talk you can call
(989) 781-3611 and ask for Greg or just speak into your toilet bowl- he’ll hear and see.

She was frigid, he understood

Living your life

by Amish advise

Left him working his wood.

Jacob McGee was a fool

On a farm full of mules

He said he was tricked

Into staring at dicks

Meatgazing at livestock’s tools

There was a young women named Chin

Whose vagina was overly thin

With green and blue paint

From clitoris to taint

It looked like a sideways horizen

And Then There Were None

X 4

So I’m done with obituaries, I’ve had my fun and perhaps I’ve healed a bit-at least one of the fissures in the dry baked alkaline flats of my psyche.

My next goal is to get published and any stray effort hanging around will be put to that end. This blog will stil exist, but in a new form perhaps as a vehicle for limericks and rants, however I don’t want to impose any useless rules on myself. Since my unemployment I’ve written two books and got a good beginning and middle for another one. One horror, one sci-fi and one historical fiction all with a tinge of sharp ridiculousness that unlike these obituaries follow some simple rules, but still lead to complex behavior. Rules like:

• Never use the word pomegranitish.
• Toasters are evil.
• Ignore social norms and sensitivities.
• Never say anything offensive to any race,religion or cracker mother fuckers.
• Never mean anything.
• Kill the obvious, even if it is unexpected.
• Use writing as an excuse to listen to music.
• Find a way to fit limericks in everything.
• Avoid cliché’s like the plague.
• Nothing is sacred.
• Everything is funny in large enough focus.
• Don’t stray too far into seriousness. Always leave a clear escape route to humor via ridiculousnessocity.
• Don’t write what you can cut and paste.
• Embed hidden messages in everything, unless you don’t want to.
• When you get tired of something move on to something else.
• Follow no rules.

Here’s a taste of the future:

Tom was from the town of Millwalker

Of which, his trick made him the talk of

His dick was so long with no girth

He could fold it in thirds

And perform a hands free shocker

Agatha fell from a Saint

She was near God , but now aint

Her thirst for men’s balls

Hastened her fall

She’s worked her way down to the taint

]]> http://mindtapped.wordpress.com/2009/03/15/and-then-there-were-none/feed/ 0 mindtapped godassmoker http://mindtapped.wordpress.com/2009/02/16/radioactive-muskrats/ http://mindtapped.wordpress.com/2009/02/16/radioactive-muskrats/#comments Mon, 16 Feb 2009 00:41:11 +0000 mindtapped http://mindtapped.wordpress.com/?p=269 ]]>

Mourned by nobody, Buford Johansen passed to the spiritual realm last week. It was three days before a roving band of chipmunks found his body; apparently he had tried to stuff himself into the basket on his bike.

Buford was best known for his canned flatus and study of Asperger’s Syndrome, sorry that’s ass-burgers syndrome, a malady that causes the sufferer to uncontrollably spread ‘special sauce’ on their glutes.

Buford had a talent for popping popcorn with his bacne that emitted microwaves. These waves also resulted in Buford’s unparalleled pet tumor collection. He could be seen every night walking his tumors through his neighborhood steering them away from the resplendent grandeur of the radio-active muskrats, the tumor’s only natural enemy.

Buford had prematurely grayed hair, sorry again, that’s prematurely gayed hair and a buckshot complexion due to an overactive ugly glands. Also he had a large amount of a hormone that made his ankles sweaty and therefore it was medically compulsory for him to wear lederhosen with a snug camel hair thong- what? That wasn’t a thong? Oh.

Having died during his mating season, he is survived by a monkey, crumpled tissues and a ping pong paddle.

Friends and family attended the funeral of newsworthy red head Mischmelle Adamski yesterday. Mischmelle lived a life of challenges not least of which would be when her pupils ran away to become an umlaut in a 12 point Comic Sans font.

Work being sparse for umlauts  they tried to make ends meet by working as a substitute colon, when the regular one was constipated, however this led to arguments as to which one would be on top. They eventually separated and became freelance periods. For a time the left one joined up with a pair of heroin addicted track-marks as an ellipsis, but the drugs and partying took their toll and that relationship ended badly… in a poorly thought out succession of adverbs.

Her pupils attended the funeral and even said some nice things about Mischmelle such as trying to exonerate her of being the architect of a final solution for an inferior race of squirrels, blamed her then lover, a stray and rabid Rottweiler, for convincing her to go trick-or-treating naked as Bozo with a hatchet wound (as the carpet matched the drapes), and complimented her idiom ‘blank stare’ saying she pulled off having no pupils well.

Her pupils are working together again in porn as a 12 point Times-New-Roman open quote, thanks to surgical enhancements, and plan on reuniting as an umlaut in the German translation of A Rise to Mediocrity-An Almost Significant’s Story a biography of no one in particular as soon as their obligations as contract-worker tittles expire.

Tommy Johnson Memberstink died yesterday due to complications from to dehydration due to his excessive drooling.

He fought a long battle with his drooling even creating a rectal self hydration system from a used fleet enema and Tabasco, the downside being repeated back firing. (Boo…hiss) Tommy was a model citizen in his community and a member of the fire department, however had to be let go when his confusion became evident as he sat St. Andrew’s Nursing Home on fire thinking he would get to see engorged titties. Found among Tommy’s belongings were five examples of original poetic art by Bobby Shackler considered by experts to be, for their flaws, perfection of the form.

There was a young man with no class

Who was caught with some pretty young lass

He pulled down his pants, struck up a lighter

And by clenching his butthole tighter and tighter

Shot sparks straight out of his ass

There was an old fellow from N. McMack

Who walked with a bow in his track

When he would skip he would trip

And if he flipped, split a lip

For his sack hung over his back

Silly young lass-she was bored

Spent her time with the Lord

She thought putting it in

A terrible sin

But she still worked up to a record

There was a young miss from St. Micks

Whose stool was remarkably thick

Enemas, suppositories, glycerin tabs

Poo solid regardless of jabs

So she built walls, shitting bricks

Big John was a terrible simp

An accident left him a gimp

With his leg tore off by a chute

He had his own substitute

He could walk on his penis when limp

Tommy is survived by his chin rash and 17 wet pillows.

On the eve of the last night before tomorrow’s third preceding day, Happy Davees shrugged her mortal coils and put on the sheer evening gown of finality.

She died not because she had herpes, but rather because herpes had her. At the end she was merely a veneer of human form between the festered sores and flowing infection. Doctor’s said this was the first case of a disease catching a human so they were unsure of how to give treatment. So they decided on a controversial and experimental procedure to save the disease. They followed a regimen of beating Happy on the tongue with dick-hammers until the disease was cured of her. According to a proclamation by the Astronomical Society, in memoriam, she will go down in history as the name sake for the center of our galaxy, the Happy Rift Bearer. Happy spent her formative years as an orphan, sorry, organ, until she was adopted by a Vietnamese furrier from Los Angeles specializing in fur from the backs of Vietnamese people, and his French mail order bride, Chloe Sevigny. Chloe took Happy under her wing, or rather labia, and trained Happy in the ways of the mighty felatio ninjas. Happy came to America aboard a Russian freighter importing Vaseline and tongue depressors, and it seemed to her that every sailor kept a tongue depressor on him. When she sat foot on American soil her tongue had been depressed so much, it took a month of intense auto-Cunilingus therapy and a bottle of Zoloft before she could say “Three holes, no waiting” again. Happy is survived by her promiscuity and was buried in her own hole.

The loss of Huey Loomis puts a dark cloud over all who knew him, as this was his last wish. Few people knew the real Huey; if they did they would understand why he was often chased down by villagers with pitchforks and torches.

He was a terrible person and found pleasure in beating small, confused children with bags of sick puppies. Perhaps they stepped on his lawn, or spit on the sidewalk, or even as little as exhale in his direction, any reason was enough to exhaust his wrath. In his youth he would berate chimneys and continued until he worked his way up to volcanoes. He would spend hours marveling at peanut butter and listening to his N.P.R. (Noise Producing Rectum). Huey did manage to mate, albeit with a different species- a wily Filipino. His offspring would not be able to procreate, that much for the better as who would want to be known as a child of a mule-man. This left an empty place in Huey meant for grandchildren. He often would wonder what one would taste like-maybe with a red wine. Huey will be cremated, mixed with stale beer, fermented, distilled and used as an industrial strength cleaner for Satan’s toilet.