The Contingent Closure
Murderer: Prof. H. I. Storicist
Weapon: The book
"Motive": To implicate the Rabbi, &c, and validate the form of the book. A fitting end.
Verdict: suicide.
Quotation. "All writing is suicidal." Maud Ellmann
"? Suicidal for whom ?"
"¿Suicidia a quién?"
Either.
I think that's quite enough dialectical dialogue.
I don't, replied Arthur, but changing his mind, he gunned down his interlocutor in cold blood — or was it the bedroom? With the ice pick.
{"NEW CLUEDO" board, featuring the DRAWING ROOM (with a stick man labelled "picture"), the LIBRARY, the KITCHEN, the TOILET, the BATH, and the SHOWER}
Who killed Prof. H. I. Storicist, who was found dead in the bath (which had subsequently (if that isn't too diachronous) been moved to the library)?
Was it Rabbi de Konstruktionist, the well known female Jewish intellectual, with the ice-axe? Or was she too busy having a fling with Mrs Fem Inists, the Irish wolfhound (sorry, surrealist)?
Alternatively it could have been Liz Double-barrel, with the shotgun! Another suspect is Sajmĉjo Esperanto with the PIV. One thing's for sure — it wasn't Geoffrey How — he doesn't exist; nor was it any other Geoffrey {the Y has a flourish} © ?
"My hovel is a real mildew milieu [mill-you? Ed!#@]," said the froggly whatsit. Sir Isaac was both the same [as half an Ed, E] — No! No! 9! [nõ]! as half his length. My shark's got no ears — How does he smell? — He doesn't / She doesn't. What? Sarajevo's on the olds again; bread-bomb, barnacle-bucket, bombastic-bastardly Muttley. I say, I speak, I utter, why is a poodle like a poodle? Neither has a brain, but bother of them are completely oth. [Er..., Ed.]
We interrupt this broadcast to bring you NOTHING.
Stereophonic NOTHING.
One man's burp is the same man's burp.
"You have met your Wellington, this time, Mr Newt!" said Arthur. (Who?)
"And you have met your Napoleon, to boot" said Sir Isaac (what?).
No — not Watts, who?
Either Arthur or Wellington or what's-his-name.
But I just said it wasn't.
So? You could be lying.
That doesn't count!
Oh really, and up to how much?
I don't know, and let's not bring how into it!
Sir Geoffrey?
No, Sir Isaac.
But there isn't anyone called Sir Isaac Howe.
How do you know?
But I don't! If I knew someone called Sir Isaac Howe, they would exist.
[Triumphant] Ideal-ist! Ideal-ist!! You've lost, and, what's more [than whom? (Ed.)] — you don't exist!
Who says?
What's the difference?
Neither of them are both the same.
There once was a loony who stood in
A bucket of rancid rice pudding,
No one really knew why
(Though to find out, they'd die!)
So they guessed that he'd just put his foot in
It.
There was a young lass of Dorset
With interpretations she used to force it
It was so contrived
No matter how hard she strived
She couldn't fit the text in her corset.
There's no one quite like Thatcher
And I'm sure you will agree
There's no one who can match her
Except for Bill Pertwee.
to be continued
(I'm too tired to write anything (un)helpful in here.)
THE FINAL FRONTIER = {a pointy-eared face with a third ear between its eyes}
? Neither.
This limerick never did display much sanity
It has no brain, and it is less than jaunty
Although it has fish and oil
It has no liver at all —
Allusion ate it with a nice Chianti. 0/10
There once was a limerick which didn't rhyme or scan
And was unnaturally preoccupied with its own internal organs
Its otherness insistent
Was less than consistent (rhymes)
And altogether gave language itself indigestion. 11/10
A limerick self referential
Appeared to have formal potential
But though form is content
The form of this one went
On tedious and inconsequential. (True) 0/0
By contrast this last of the four
Has a plot line you cannot ignore
From the Fall to Salvation
And in flashback — Creation —
It still proves a bit of a bore. (Hēllò) 93.2%
Codliver Oil! Codliver Oil! Codliver Oil and String!
Paper the light blue touch and ignite previously
Eat the idiom! Hair soup! Jugged fly!
Fish saucer, buttress machine
Blankety ping, Pinkety bong, Plinkey plonk, Blankety BANG
Mechanical writing
Blue the paper light and touch interminably
Ooo! What did you think I meant?
Did you think I? But only as the U of I or the I of U.
I meant? Good question.
Think I meant? Let's not disturb the cogito.
Ooo! What did you? You don't have to prove anything.
What did you think? Words! Words! Words!
Did you think?
