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Volume 1 Issue 11

December 2002

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Ed's Note - The first issue of the new year will be out in mid January due to a back to basics research endeavor.

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Original Writings

the california series

part 3 - the hamburger waitress

At this moment a girl appeared with my hamburger and my heart stopped beating. She was without a doubt the most unbelievably beautiful hamburger waitress on the face of the earth and I was sure if I didn't tell her so I would spontaneously combust within a few seconds. She wore Wrangler jeans, an apron over a western shirt, and a black hat tipped jauntily back. Her short brown hair was cut carelessly, like nobody ever looked anyway, and her nose was slightly freckled. As I hastened to describe her eyes before I fell down, prostrate and lifeless, at her feet, I was interrupted by the gnome of a bartender.


What the Hey, maybe I'll take a gander at the
the rest of this story I've got nothing better to do

A Goliard Christmas

'Twas the night before deadline
In the Goliard news room
And not a creature was sober 
Not even the broom

Well the Movieman was
but he was nowhere to be found
Probably sneaking into films
Or simply lurking around

But the Bookwoman wasn't
Up on some faraway stage
Out working the pole 
Instead of home turning a page

The Snapper may have been sober 
But he is out on the beat 
Instead of in the staff kitchen
Tending the meat

And from Our Man in the Field 
We haven't heard in awhile
Perhaps seduced by the orient 
Or yodeling off down the Nile

And although their memory lingers 
The Atwaters aren't here
One is on to new projects
The other home drinking beer

And even Jeff Chazire
Stopped darkening our doors 
Opting for wood working classes 
And ripping out his old floors

Piolline might have shown up
Except he is not his own man 
And whoever is calling the shots 
Just isn't a fan

And John Rose can't be here
Because that's not part of the story 
He's off touring the country
And writing a mystery 

And La Ella Caliente 
No está aqui "lo siento 
Pero mi vida loca 
Ahora es mi vida trabajo"

And where is the new gal
the editor Slanski?
probably off on some junket
or secret romanski

So we're left in the newsroom
To face this deadline alone
With no help through the mail 
No one calling by phone

But isn't that the season?
Everyone is so busy
Schlepping, shopping and wrapping
Running round town in a tizzy

It seems to the Goliard
That during this time of year 
One should take the time to relax 
and sip on a beer

Spend a few moments reflecting
Upon the year that is ending
Put the feet up on the desk
Think what fences need mending

Well that's quite enough of that
Let's leave pondering to the masses 
For here at the Goliard
We must get up off our asses

The holiday issues incomplete 
and long overdue 
With nary a &%#$@ letter
Or a restaurant review

So it's back to the keyboard
To type it out right
A Celebration Ale to all
And to all a Good Nignt!

Happy Holidays!

We thank you for your patronage

La Xmas Caliente!

Pancho Claus

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through la casa, not a creature was stirring, Caramba! ¿Qué pasa?

Los ninos were all tucked away in their camas, Some in vestidos and some in pajamas. While Mama worked late in her little cocina, El viejo was down at the corner cantina.

The stockings were hanging con mucho cuidado, In hopes that St. Nicholas would feel obligado To bring all the children, both buenos y malos, A Nice batch of dulces and other regalos. Outside in the yard there arouse such a grito, That I jumped to my feet like a frightened cabrito.

I went to the window and looked out afuera, And who in the world, do you think que era? Saint Nick in a sleigh and a big red sombrero Came dashing along like a crazy bombero! And pulling his sleigh instead of venados, Were eight little burros approaching volados.

I watched as they came, and this little hombre 
was shouting and whistling and calling by nombre.

Ay, Pancho! Ay, Pepe! Ay, Cuca! Ay, Beto! Ay, Chato! Ay, Chopo! Maruca and Nieto!

Then standing erect with his hand on his pecho He flew to the top of our very own techo. With his round little belly like a bowl of jalea, He struggled to squeeze down our old chimenea.

Then huffing and puffing, at last in our sala, With soot smeared all over his red suit de gala. He filled the stockings with lovely regalos, For none of the children had been very malos.

Then chuckling aloud and seeming contento, He turned like a flash and was gone like the viento.

And I heard him exclaim and this is VERDAD,

Merry Christmas to all, And to All Feliz Navidad!



                                 Quién es La Ella Caliente

Young Goliard in Training

 

Holiday Dogs We've Known

Winner of the Goliard Photo Contest shown in the Movie Man's
Space until he gets back from Vacation

Bookwoman's Diary

Who is the Bookwoman?

 

Go to her Diary

Millennial Snippets

* Indenture and the Cow 
* A Shriveled Introduction
* The Notoriety Dilemma 
* Licked by the Pump 
* A Messenger's Recuperation 
* The Cardinals Outnumbered 
* Infidelity Rewarded 
* Tragedy Renamed
* Heroics Unheralded 
* Dark the Passions of the Weak
* Enemas Reconsidered
* Tired the Grumpys

Take me in Boys! I think I might just be ready for the whole
Manifesto

Future Features

Geraldo comes up coal 
If something is not worth doing at all it is not worth doing well
Pikers unite to form some sort of union
Massholes ruin Christmas for other motorists
Fortuitous not synonym for good fortune
Ear wax found on pen
To a conclusion said the jumpmaster
Gadflys and Gardens
Waste not thy neighbor's stool
Marmite in stocking a surprise to house guest

 

Last Update: 05/23/2007
Copyright 2002. All Rights Reserved.