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Toxic Custard Workshop - #79
********** ********* TOXIC CUSTARD WORKSHOP FILES Written by
* * * Number 79 Daniel Bowen
* ********* Monday 13th January 1991 and sister
_________*__________*__________________________________________________
The best thing about hearing a Bryan Adams song on the radio A
is knowing there won't be another one for at least a couple of hours. n
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - o
t
Ever wondered how paper is recycled? It's from old paper, of course. h
But not straight away. Most old paper being recycled has been used, so e
it has to be processed first. All the old paper is put into a bloody r
big machine, and the ink that's on it is systematically scraped off by
a sort of a razor blade. When that's finished, the paper is clean and d
ready to be used for something else, and not only that.. the ink is a
churned up in a big pot and melted into liquid again, so it can be y
re-used for filling up zillions of biros. What good is this, you might ,
ask. Okay, so recycling paper saves trees all over the world which
provides more oxygen to breathe so the human race can wipe itself out a
by something other than asphyxiation. n
But what about the ink? Ever stop and wonder where ink comes from? o
In fact, ink is made from the dead corpses of the Inca tribes of Peru. t
The Inca peoples were (and in some areas, still are) a proud race of h
warriors, but they tend, like most of us, to slow down a bit when e
they're dead. Still, while they're still alive, their diets consist of r
a number of South American berries, so many that much of their
bloodstream, by the time they die, is navy blue. d
This was discovered earlier this century by a little Hungarian o
twerp, who decided to drain out the blood from dead Incas, boil it up l
and use it as "ink" (a cruel and sadistic pun if ever there was one) in l
his new invention, the biro. What a bastard. Tribes in other areas of a
South America eat red berries and it is these areas that are harvested r
for red ink. Expeditions into South America are still sponsored by Bic, ,
Pentel and Parker, to retrieve tribal bodies and suck ink out of them.
So.. recycle your paper today! Save trees and Inca corpses! a
n
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - o
t
Hi, I'd like to buy a pair of red pyjamas please, size Large. Yes, h
they'll do fine. And I'd like a red skivvy (*), size Large. And what e
have you got in the way of red pullovers? Yes, v-neck. Size? Oh, r
probably about Large. Some red underpants? And have you got anything in
way of red trousers? Oh, surely you must have something? Well yes, I w
*do* want red. I'm a red fetishist, you see. I love red. It's a great e
colour, red. Okay, so politically it isn't so popular now, but look at e
it spectrum-wise. Look at how red the red is. Its... reddishness. Isn't k
it great? In fact, there's a red fetishists' convention next week. ,
Called "Ready for Red '92 - Reddening our world." Unfortunately, my
wife has had enough of red, and doesn't want to come with me. She's a
into blue. n
o
(*) American readers read "turtleneck". Jesus, can't you people use t
proper English? h
e
The author's sister, a linguistics student, would like to point out r
that the above comment is a highly PRESCRIPTIVIST notion. Language
variation is as solid a fact as the Newbrook Austo-Asian C
phonetic/phonemic distribution theory. Standard North American usage u
may find the lexical item "skivvy" difficult to process, but intra and s
international semantic and lexical variation is the spice which makes t
our lives joyful. a
r
The author would like to point out to his sister that this is HIS d
outlet for his private grudges against the world and not hers, or .
anyone elses, so everyone else can just shut up and stop interrupting .
his train of thought.
a
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - n
o
MRS IRENE BUSYBODY SPEAKS OUT ON... t
UFOs. Well, it's a load of crap, isn't it. Here we are on the little h
planet Earth wondering if there's any intelligent life in the universe. e
And trying to send out messages to attract aliens. I wonder why? Don't r
we have enough problems of our own without inviting little green men to
fly in and strut their stuff in public, disrupting people's busy lives? M
Anyway.. they're *alien*, aren't they? Strange and unknown. How do we o
know they haven't already landed? How do we know the aliens haven't n
already arrived and infiltrated the human race? I sometimes wonder d
about my husband Fred, actually. He's a very strange person in some a
ways. I used to think he might be a visiting alien, but I decided he's y
probably just dim. But then, he is the typical Australian man. ,
I've often wondered just what would happen if aliens landed in our
cities. They could land in Melbourne, by the Arts Centre, and nobody a
would notice their flying saucer.. everyone would think it was a new n
avant-garde sculpture. They could climb out with their green scaly o
skin and their two hundred tentacles each and walk up the street t
sucking up small children, and everyone would think it was a new form h
of street theatre. Who actually organises those sculptures, and that e
street threatre? I'll tell you the truth. The aliens are already here. r
The Arts Centre spire is a landing beacon for them. Everyone you see
around the Arts Centre is strange. And you never see street artists s
talking to people, do you? It's true. They're ALIENS. I always thought i
mime was suspicious. d
e
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ w
You have been nothing. And still are. You are a
absolutely nothing. Nothing and nobody. And you y
have been reading the Toxic Custard Workshop s
Files. And it serves you bloody well right.
For back-issues, why don't you just drop dead? m
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ e
s
Copyright © 1992 Daniel Bowen s
-- a
Daniel Bowen, Monash University | NOW AVAILABLE: g
Melbourne, Australia | Bottled Presidential Vomit e
[email protected] | Exclusive to .
TCWF- [email protected] | Nippon-Fijutsu-Bridgeriverkwai Corp. .
.
TC's too short, I write alone
Maybe I'll try and do a poem
It's ten o'clock, I'm out of time
Trying to get this stuff to rhyme
But is it funny? No not really
In fact, it's really pretty silly.
Yuck.
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