Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapaire - PM
Date: 16 Apr 06 - 09:13 PM

Way up high in the Mudcat peaks, where the yellow GUESTS grow tall
Old Ken Khandu started thread about BS one fall.
Then they talked about horses and freds and Ralphs and maybe a dog or two
And they swore they'd post 'most everything that came within their view.
And any 'Catters that flapped their jaws and didn't bathe each day
Got to post BS and carry on in a most artistic way.

Now one fine day old Bee-Dubya-Ell he throwed his wedged clay down
"Well I'm sick of the smell of these burnin' pots, and I allows I'm a goin' to town!"
So him and Amos saddles up and hits a lope, for they weren't much for a ride
And them was the days when could oil up their insides.
Oh they starts her off at The Tweezer's Place at the head of Whiskey Row
And they winds up down at the Christmas Tavern some forty drinks below.
And then they sets up and turns around and drinks her the other way
And to tell you folks the goddamned truth, them boys got stewed that day!

Now, as they was a-ridin' back to camp a packin' a pretty good load
Well who should they meet but Mom herself a-striding down the road!
Says she, "You ornery musical skunks, you better hunt your holes!
For I've found what you've done and I have come to blister you head to soles!"
Says Ol' Bee-Dub, "Well, I'll be damned! Us boys is kinda tight,
But MOM! We was just havin' some fun, and you said it was alright!"

Well, Amos started sniveling, and his tears fell straight and true,
But Mom hoisted him up by his left ear, and she pulled 'til it turned blue!
Now Bee-Dubya-Ell was a pottery man, and wedged his clay right neat,
And he didn't think, but grabbed some mud and groveled at Mom's bare feet!

Well, she kicked him one, and stretched him out, and then grabbed his right-hand ear,
And she frog-marched them a mile or two, then kicked 'em in the rear!
"No kids of are gonna consort with GUESTS, and...Oh, my land!
You keep this up and Flamenco Ted will grab that big twelve grand!"

And both them boys (they was sober now) they pled and cajoled and prayed
And finally Mom relented, providin' they blocked a Teddy raid.
So both them boys are sittin' there, necked to their keyboards tight
And they don't neither drink nor eat, protectin' a MOABite's right!


--Amos Jessup-Pinktoes, Poems of the MOAB Country (Tombstone: Press of the Fighting Pimps, 1889).