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1982-2022

280 Dog Years

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The Holy Grail Press is dedicated to promoting work that standard publishers... you know, those with standards, might be reluctant to publish, which pretty much leaves poetry.  And let's face it:  No one publishes poetry.  So in the end, we’re left with a lot of free time.

 

 

Word of the Every So Often  

May 27, 2022

wonk:  (noun)  often used derogatorily, a person who takes a particularly specialized interest in the minute details of a field of study, especially with politics.  You want to know about the influence of Russian immigrants on the passage of the infrastructure bill?  Then just ask Bill, he's our resident wonk.

 

What's New at the Press 

 

...What's Old at the Press 

Friday, May 27, 2022

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No.  You hang up first. 

2:00 pm pdt 

Wednesday, May 25, 2022

 

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An Open Letter from the Honorable Leonard K. Bullfinch

My Fellow Americans,

I, Senator Leonard K. Bullfinch, am proud to announce that I have been chosen as the honorary spokesman for the NRA - the National Rattlesnake Association.

As Americans, we are all blessed with certain inalienable rights. We have the right to say what we darn well want when we darn well want to say it. We have the right to worship wherever and whatever we so please, be it Baptist or Methodist. And we have the right to defend ourselves from those who would want to take these rights, these freedoms, away from us.

And there is no better way to defend ourselves than by owning and carrying live rattlesnakes. Therefore, I urge all Americans to become a member of the National Rattlesnake Association.

As a member of the National Rattlesnake Association, we believe that every citizen has the right to protect himself and his family, be that threat real or imaginary. We further believe that there is no better way to protect yourself than with a live rattlesnake. After all, what could be more American than a rattlesnake? And a rattlesnake is more effective than a handgun, in that it doesn't need to be aimed, it won't show up on a metal detector, and should you ever be incapacitated or caught unawares, it will act on its own. As well, it never needs to be reloaded. Think of the money you will save every year on bullets alone. And then there is the peace of mind that a price cannot be placed upon.

Just the thought that you may be carrying a concealed rattlesnake should make any would be villain think twice. And should someone want to break into your home, knowing that there could be a rattlesnake coiled behind your home entertainment center would make any burglar wish he'd gone to trade school instead. Indeed, that burglar would have no idea where that snake might be hiding. And let me tell you, any rapist is going to think twice before exposing any of his more delicate body parts, not knowing just where that snake might be. That sort of peace of mind is something that every man owes his wife and his family.

There are those who counter that rattlesnakes are inherently dangerous, especially if you have children or pets living in the home. To them I say, "Poo." First of all, a rattlesnake is all the pet you will ever need. And children can be taught not to play with it, just as they can be taught not to play with handguns. And if you line a playpen with Plexiglas, why, there's no way that snake is going to get in there. As an added bonus, you will no longer have to worry about rodents and other vermin in your house.

Therefore, I urge every God fearing American to join the National Rattlesnake Association.

Your membership includes:

Your very own live rattlesnake, guaranteed to be at least three feet long, which will be delivered inside of your home absolutely free of charge.
You will also receive an official decal you can place in the rear window of your car or on the front door of your home to let would be thieves know they'd better think twice before they go after your stereo. And you will get our semi-monthly newsletter, "Recoil," that will keep you updated on current legislation, local rattlesnake clubs, and other information vital to being an informed citizen. As well, you will receive discounts from our catalogue on such items as National Rattlesnake Association apparel and NRA snake bite kits. And if you order by the Fourth of July, you will receive your very own NRA snake tongs, suitable for handling rattlesnakes up to four feet long, or flipping burgers on your grill.

Joining is easy. Just send 59.95, plus 38.50 for shipping, in care of Senator Leonard K. Bullfinch to the Holy Grail Press. Sorry, cash only. And before you know it, you will have your very own rattlesnake curled up somewhere in your home, protecting you and your loved ones from all the evil in the world.

Thank you, and may God bless you and all true Americans.

 

10:24 am pdt 

Tuesday, May 24, 2022

Why I Hate My Job:  Interview #443:  Smell-a-Tech

I work for Smell-a-Tech.  They... they sell deer urine.  I bottle it.  Both from the buck and the doe.  They can tell.  People buy it so the deer won’t smell them in the woods, or so the deer will think it’s another deer.  And then they can shoot them, I guess.  Do you have any idea how hard it is to bottle deer urine?  And you want to know why I hate my job.

3:29 pm pdt 

Wednesday, May 18, 2022

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"Amazing navigational skills" my ass.  Admit it.  We're lost. 

9:17 am pdt 

Monday, May 16, 2022

Paint Machine

Miles mixed paint.
You know,
he ran one of those machines
that put little squirts of colour
in a can of white paint,
and then after he shook it up
it'd come out out being this colour
that had nothing to do
with any of the colours that it was before.

Not that it's magic or anything.
I mean, they have this little book
that tells you just exactly how many squirts to squirt
when the customer finally makes up her mind.

Miles also waited on customers.
He didn't run a cash register or anything like that;
he just marked the price on the top of the can
and then somebody up front rang it up.

Not like it really would've mattered anyway
if they would've let him run the cash register.
Miles would've hated his job just the same.

You see,
Miles hated his job
because it was something that any idiot could do.
There was no intellectual challenge.
And the more Miles thought about it,
the more he became convinced
that a machine could do his job
just as well.

So that's just what Miles did.
He made himself a robot.

Oh, don't get me wrong;
it was a really lame robot.
He started with an old self-propelled lawnmower
and worked up from there.
The body was a worn-out shop vac,
and the only arm it had was the hose.
The head was this pathetic bowling ball
that he bought at a garage sale,
and on top of that bowling ball he had duct-taped an old video camera
and then painted this really stupid looking face.
He tried the best he could to make it look human
by sticking clothes on it.
You know, like his blue work smock
with his name badge stuck on it.
But it still looked like a pile of junk
that got caught in a clothesline.

But it worked.
It really worked.

He'd wind it up or whatever,
and it would go into work
and put in eight hours a day,
overtime if it had to.

And the people down at the store bought it.
Or they just didn't care.
None of the customers seemed to mind, either.
Why should they?
I mean, as long as their paint came out the right colour?
And once every other week
they'd send a pay check home with the robot.

Nothing went haywire with the robot.
It didn't go berserk and kill all the customers
or get a conscious and want Miles to share the money,
or anything like that.

The paint store never wised up
and made robots of their own
so that they could stop paying Miles to stay home
while his robot did all the work.

Miles never got depressed
because he'd replaced himself with a machine.

In fact, pretty much of nothing happened at all.
Miles just stayed at home and watched TV all day,
which seems kind of boring,
but who am I to judge?

8:59 am pdt 

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