Fri 1 Jan 2010
Psychic Pickle
Posted by anaglyph under Poetry, Rasputin, True Fiction
[124] Comments
Well Dear Acowlytes, the clocking over of the New Year is virtually guaranteed to bring out the loonies. Above is the cover from the new issue of some rag called Psychic Reader which I swiped off a stand at the local railway station this morning. In it, a ‘spirit medium’ alleges to have been channeling our old friend Rasputin. According to her, the Mad Monk is not just mad – he’s completely furious!
I’ll spare you the interminable claptrap that makes up the majority of the article and just give you the bare bones. Madame Zora, a clairvoyant of dubious credentials (she claims to be the reincarnation of Gilbert Einstein, Albert’s lesser-known brother) believes that she has become the chosen vehicle for Rasputin’s beyond-the-grave communications:
Rasputin came to me in a dream and told me that I was to bring his message to The Earthly Plane. He said that his penis is to be returned to him or he will visit his wrath on all those who have participated in its defilement!
Yeah, right. And I suppose Madam Zora speaks fluent Russian. Oh, wait – she doesn’t need to:
He sort of talks inside my head. It’s not in language – I hear his thoughts.
How entirely convenient.
Rasputin’s penis was removed from his corpse shortly after he was murdered on December 16, 1916, and has gone on to enjoy notoriety in its own right. According to Madame Zora, Rasputin’s spirit has been tagging along with it on its corporeal adventures and is far from impressed:
He is offended that it was put in a museum for all to see, and that it has now been cloned by Chinese scientists and is sold all over the world.
Madame Zora claims that in her dream Rasputin appeared wielding a huge knife and vowed to cut off the member of any man who has offended his name. She doesn’t specify what will happen to women who have crossed the Mad Monk.
Rasputin says, according to Madame Zora, that with her help he will find his penis wherever it may go. I guess it’s a good partnership – you obviously can’t hide the salami from a clairvoyant.
Seriously – how do people believe this stuff? It’s so implausible I couldn’t make it up if I tried.
With 2009 being as chock full of cretins and swindlers as it was, I’m really nervous as we head into 2010. Could this be the year that Scientology claims a US President and Shoo!TAG™ makes a cool billion on the NYSE? Could this be the year where homeopathy gets accorded WHO approval and Jasmuheen is granted credibility as a bona fide religious leader? Could this be the year when the followers of Catholicism exceed 1 billion in number? (Oh wait, that already happened…) As the world becomes more and more stupid, the possibilities are grim. But remember – when things look the very blackest, when the churning storms of the preposterous threaten to overturn your little boat of commonsense, Tetherd Cow Ahead will always be a lighthouse of rationality, reason and logic. And the lighthouse keeper will always have whisky. I hope 2010 brings each of you fulfillment, wisdom and contentment – all with a minimum of cash imparted to crackpots and mountebanks.
Oh, and in case it needs to be said… let the games commence!
It seems Madam Zora is daft.
There is no truth at all in her craft.
Rasputin stopped by
Knowing full well she’d lie
But with hopes that she’d give him the shaft.
Rasputin allied wif a quack,
Left nobody taken aback,
Since his own confession,
Reveald his profession:
Henceforth, he is simply a HACK.
Rasputin from the afterlife
Took hold of his razor-sharp knife
And with force, the mad monk
Then cut off the trunk
From an elephant he’d drawn from life.
Five years and still going strong!
(Though on so many levels it’s wrong)
The games have begun!
So join in the fun!
At the Cow, COME and RHYME and BE LONG!
2009, the year to remember
Will soon be snuffed like a hot ember
And, remember we will
As we all get our thrill
Rhyming bout his pickled member.
Zora was not a clairvoyant
Nor clairaudient nor buoyant
Thoughts popped into her head
From the dickless dead
She was just dead dick flamboyant
Pauper preacher’s power long dead
Zora said, “He lives in my head.”
The dick is talking
The prick is squawking
Chick wants some pickled pecker head.
Zora found herself in a rut
Most folk called her a nut
No public mention
Nor press attention
Monk dick tales she pulled from her butt
“Give my penis back to me,”
Th spectral monk demanded,
“Ninety-three years it has been,
That Ive been empty-handed.”
—
Pondering Rasputin and his dick,
Theres sompm wrong.
Put yer fingr on it and youd say,
“Apart too long.”
Though, a psychic the madam is not
Some fame and fortune she’s caught
She now hears a dude
Who’s rod has been stewed
She must have a crack in her pot
Rasputin went to Hollywood
With hopes of a fresh start.
He thought he’d take up acting
And would rock box office charts.
—
He failed in the audition
And it broke Rasputin’s heart.
For this was now the second time
Rasputin lost a part.
Nice to see Buzzardbilly and BNITP here so early! Judging from the Poll, I’m expecting 10 players here today, otherwise heads will roll!
You seem surprised, Reverend. When there’s a Rasputin post UP, how can you not come early?
Rasputin, needing psychic help
Went to the Madame Zorra.
She looked into her crystal ball
Then read Rasputin’s aura.
—
She could not read his future well
And found the prospect scary
His palms were chafed like Polanski’s
Though only half as hairy.
[img]http://www.oldfishandlemonade.com/pix/billyripe.jpg[/img]
All those with a penis take heed:
Mock not the Mad Monk, nor impede
His afterlife action
To achieve satisfaction
For his vengeance approaches with speed!
It’s for Australian women I pine
And if you are a female and fine
I suggest that between us
We should share us a penis
So please, by all means, just take mine.
And if I may suggest it, I really think “All those with a penis take heed” should be one of the rotating header quotes here at the Cow. HAHAHA.
Consider it done…
Could 2010 be the year
When Rasputin at last does appear?
Even though he’s not whole
(Having misplaced his pole)
He could still do endorsements for beer!
Rasputin’s masculinity,
Was defiled supposedly;
But I woud suggest,
That itd be best,
To file th thing undr ‘P’.
Give my trouser snake respect, he commands.
My enormous member must be returned, no man’s
Penis should be in a jar, or cloned, even one which
Back in the day split maidens end to end.
When Sistr Veronica,
Playd th harmonica,
Rasputin offerd big bucks.
Hed travelld th world,
To find him a girl,
Who blows just as much as she sucks.
Madam Zora
seeking headlines
channels Rasputin.
Sadly, only
Psychic Reader
reports connection.
(Also featured –
Dr Emoto,
One drop liquid.)
Finds herself
mocked, reviled,
disrespected.
Her thunder stolen
by a faux-cow
name of Billy.
Madam Zora,
makes another
cup of tea.
The Third Law of Motion by Newton
Applies equally well to Rasputin
If you cross him, you’ll find
He’ll repay you in kind
Of that, let there be no disputin’
Kathy and Melissa ventured out on New Years Eve
They marched up to the Reverend’s house, annoyed and rather peeved.
How dare the Rev accuse them that Shoo!TAGâ„¢ did not achieve
The goal of ridding everything (from pets to kids) of fleas.
—
Whereas they were quite content in having folks deceived
The Reverend knew that Shoo!TAGâ„¢ was to good to be believed.
The worst part was their presence, which the Rev thought ill-received
He could not get these snakes to go! Vamoose! Just fucking leave!
—
And just about the time that all their bullshit made him heave
The Reverend shook Rasputin down from up inside his sleeve.
He brought the massive member up into the air and weaved
Then quickly brought Rasputin down upon these cheats with ease.
—
Not Kathy nor Melissa had a second to perceive
That Anaglyph’s wang weapon would soon leave their heads both cleaved.
And smiling to himself the Reverend sighed and felt relieved
His goal of shutting up the crooks had finally been achieved.
In Soviet Russia, they don’t cut off your penis, they make wait in line first, then cut it off . .
Is Russian joke . . oh wait, you looking for poetry . .
Russia is Red
Rasputin is Dead
They cut off his junk
that really stunk
Did you come up with that all by yourself, Malach?
The once was a man named Rasputin, Grigori Yefimovich
When he died they cut off his dick
They shipped it to France
Use it for fertility dance
And he wants it back according to a “psychic”
This limerick, I must admit,
Has everything going for it.
It might be, I feel,
A Platonic Ideal:
The perfect first-class piece of shit.
Joey’s wakened The Cow from its sleep
With philosophicating quite deep
But I’d rather he tried
To help me decide
What to do with this huge turnip heap.
A limerick master is one Malach the friggin’ Merciless.
To be sure, we all believe this.
For this poemin’ dope,
I’d be our intense wish and hope
When he dies they cut off his penis.
OK, so, come to think of it, I’ve actually never seen Joey and Malach in the same room at the same time…
If limericks happened to be
A verse one could craft easily,
A microcephalic
Like Merciless Malach
Would STILL fuck it up, probably.
The wisdom of old doth impart
That a poem must come from the heart
But with Malach, alas
Such things come from the ass
So all that we get is a fart
Sterling! No rhyme, no meter and no sense. That’s quite some accomplishment!
the mad monk’s soul
hovered over
his body
quite dead
and watched
his member
severed
rendered
a pickle-y
contender
evermore
and he said
if souls say
that it
was good
for ladies
for decades
to come
would come
to stare at
his hood
no matter the age
they’d pay the wage
to peek at
the dick that
fucked ever’thing
it could
say the soul
to the air
it was a good job
folks lookin’ at his knob
knowing it had
fucked history
VERY GOOD!
Thank you!
First attempt at cow pic/poem:
[img]http://photos-c.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc3/hs140.snc3/18768_101494539880738_100000605780837_36121_774305_n.jpg[/img]
Our feminine clairvoyant star,
Then startd to puff a cigar —
A vice shes pursuin,
To keep her from doin,
A little gobblin in that jar.
“Once you go black, you nevr go back,”
Say some women, speaking of men.
But once they go Russian, I bet they say, blushin,
“I aint doin THAT shit again.”
For poor Madame Zora’s protecktion,
They seald up Rasputin’s erecktion.
Twas futile, because,
Rasputin’s dick was,
Proficient at astral projecktion.
[BRILLIANT! – The Reverend]
Th clubhouse came to ordr as Rasputin took his chair.
He listd in th minutes all th members that were there.
Evry seat but his was empty. This was not a snub.
Seems, fer ol Rasputin, just one member IS a club.
Joey Polanski I’m told
Is hung like the Russians of old.
But the Rev on a dare
Took a measurement there
And then asked, “What the fuck? Are you cold?”
A sexy chick geologist explord Rasputin’s Cave;
And, climbin ovr evrything, what energy she gave!
Then suddnly she witnessd sompm nevr seen before:
Btween her feet, a huge stalagmite came up from th floor.
Th woodwind men assembld and,
A scowl crossd my face:
“What’s Rasputin doin there —
Playing contrabass?”
[img]http://joeyshole.wordpress.com/files/2010/01/contrabass-sax01.jpg[/img]
with strings and bass
the warning’s fair
they give it quick
the things not a vase
take heed, take care,
the cello chair
they saved intact
the seed and hair
It seems that this year is going to be more about quality than quantity. Also, by my count we only have 8 players – two people are definitely having their Cow vestments rent asunder.
Madame Zora’s a whiz with them all:
Tea leaves, cards, palm, crystal ball
“In your future,” says she
“A new man do I see,
And he’s certainly strange, dark and TALL!”
Ms. Zora, the prognosticator,
There are many who truly hate her
But a Russian, she said
Speaks to her in her head
Do you think she needs a translator?
Rasputin’s pecker sitting in a jar
on a museum shelf
wishing its wishes
for hot nubile dishes
in which to bury itself
but it’s dark
and dank
and slimy
likely rank
yet you know as I do
that some perv somewhere
wants to pop it
wants to cop it
wants to ride on the goo
sick fuckrs
Ew.
I second that Rev.
Madame Zora may in fact be a fraud
But she knows “Rassy” was hung like a god
If she could just handle
Rassy’s dill-scented scandal
She’d use it detached from his bod!
while meandering the internet
what to my wondering eyes were met
but poetry schemes
half charming, half mean
‘Bout cockles o’er salt-brined and wet!
[img]http://joeyshole.wordpress.com/files/2010/01/hung.jpg[/img]
[Er… not hung like ‘Billy’ though…]
Acowlytes! We have some new players! Rasputin virgins as it were. Welcome to the Cow biff n tiff and biff (if indeed you are not one and the same person..) !
Dont ferget MALACH, Revrend!
Those were HIS first entrys.
(*crickets*)
True enough, but the biffs‘s entries rhymed, scanned and made sense. And were funny. Malach has a long way to go.
Now now, Reverend. Malach’s a WINNER! You practically said so yourself.
Dang. Hoist with my own petard.
Better than being hoisted with mentards.
Rasputin once played basketball
And dribbled at the game.
All without the ball itself
Which earned him lots of fame.
—
He tripped across the court because
His balls were at his feet
The only one with skills to help
With those was Pistol Pete.
Poemin by computer,
Old Rasputin nevr dared.
For, in th presence of th mouse,
His elephant got scared.
please s/b pleased. And I didn’t even open up the super gross-o-meter on ya. :P
Thanks for the biff enlightenment, and especially thanks for not over-grossing me.
Sittin in a bafftub was,
Rasputin, hardly sober.
Washin certain parts was like,
The Hunt for Red October.
[img]http://joeyshole.wordpress.com/files/2010/01/redoctober01.jpg[/img]
HAHAHAHAHAHA!
While lotsa folks might be turned off
By such a thing so phallic
Rasputin at an angle
Should bring fans of the italics
[img]https://www.tetherdcow.com/tetherdcow/cowimage/rasputin2.jpg[/img]
Madam Zora spies in her crystal ball
An object with striking albedo
It turns out to be a submarine
(What at first she thought a torpedo)
“I can’t get involved with clients”, she says,
“To remain at arm’s length is my credo!”
But it’s not long before all her ethics are shot
– she’s a woman with quite a libido!
Rasputin is a teapot
Short and stout
Here is his handle
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Here is his spout.
Hahahahaha~
Actually, that new avatar looks great laughing.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
The Reverend’s brand new avatar
Has his mouth opened wide
I wonder if Rasputin could
Completely fit inside?
[img]http://www.oldfishandlemonade.com/pix/snarfitup.jpg[/img]
[With those teeth? Even Rasputin’s not that mad.]
Rasputin is now an attraction
On display just for your satisfaction.
The museum’s addition
Is because the condition
Involving Rasputin’s subtraction.
Rasputin didn’t like knives
But sure was fond of the wives
When they chopped off his dick
For being a prick
He still fucked around with their lives
Rasputin, Rasputin, which wife will you tickle;
Now that you lost your rather large pickle.
Will you make one of wood, or plastic or foam?
Will the missus miss flesh, or be forced out to roam.
When the urge starts calling, will you be able to hear?
Or will all of your friends think you’ve become quite queer.
Rasputin, Rasputin, we just want to know
Which tool will you use to fill the next hole.
Blahahaha Jammers :)
Pitka and his partnr showd up punctually for a
Interview wif somone by th name of Madame Zora.
Th injurd woman had to tell her story from her bed,
Lyin on her stomach, somwhat groggy from th meds.
—
She told em how she’d contacktd th spirit of Rasputin,
And how th ghost coud circumvent th laws of Isaac Newton.
“I calld th Mad Monk’s name,” she said, “and on my life I swear,
His dick escapd this jar as if th glass had not been there.”
—
Th rational detecktives found her story rathr wild.
Dspite her beauty, they were not so easily beguild.
They knew that they coud recognize no othr-worldly causes,
But let her go on ranting, in btween some pregnant pauses.
—
Th partnr shone a light upon th jar, to cut th gloom,
While Pitka lookd at evrything else there was in th room.
“Somone tamperd with the top,” said Pitka’s prizd gumshoe.
Pitka lookd at Zora’s ass and said, “Th bottom too.”
[HAHAHAHA! Pitka reappears!]
Dangd typo …
>:(
[Fixed! ~ The Reverend]
Rasputin, to Heaven consignd,
Does not have himself peace of mind.
Th reason he doesn’t,
Is because it wasn’t,
His troubles that he’d left behind.
Welcome jammer5 to the comp – with a stirling first effort, I might add.
I’m leaving the Exhibition open for an extra day – it would be a shame not to go past the 100 mark…
Thanks fer th fix on #86, tho Id a-gone wit ‘th’ instead o ‘his’. Eithr works.
[Re-fixed!]
Standing outside Heaven, Joey askd his angel-guide:
“Who’s that bearded man opening up th Gates so wide?
Surely, thats Saint Peter — you cant tell me that it aint!”
“No,” th angel said, “that’s just th peter’s patron saint.”
The question we must ask is if in Heaven we would find
The Mad Monk and his member, now quite properly combined?
Or is he just a ghostly eunuch, sulky and resigned
While his monstrous part forever roams the world he left behind?
Rapunzel Rapunzel
Joey cried in the night
Let down your hair so up I might fly
I’m sorry, I cut it
She called with a sigh
But grab hold of this, Raspy left it behind.
Pitka found some evidences shoved far up Zorra’s rear
And wondered why this fuckin’ case reopened every year.
Why was he the first on scene, the first to get involved?
Despite his every effort Pitka’s case remained unsolved.
—
Pitka sipped his coffee and he looked about the scene.
Then scribbled in his notepad, wondering what these clues might mean.
A psychic spewing gibberish and claiming that she spoke
To Rasputin from “the other side”. This had to be a joke.
—
And right then when Pitka thought it couldn’t get more weird
A reverend and some ugly goon had suddenly appeared.
“My name is Reverend Anaglyph and this guy here is Joe.
We’ve got some information that we think that you should know.”
—
Pitka didn’t trust these two and so he played it cool.
The reverend looked suspicious and his partner only drooled.
“If you’ve got information that might shed this case some light
Then spit it out already, cuz I haven’t got all night.”
—
“This woman, Madame Zorra, isn’t psychic like she claims
She’s really just con artist with many different names.
You may have seen her on TV, a slutty hotel heiress…”
And suddenly the pieces fit, and Pitka shouted, “PARIS!”
—
“That still does not explain the whereabouts of the old pecker,”
said Pitka to the Reverend who replied “Why don’t you check her?”
And right before Detective Pitka had the chance to speak
The Reverend looked at Paris and said “Turn the other cheek!”
—
Pitka looked at Paris and made sure that she obeyed
Her eyes were wide with terror, it was clear she was afraid.
As Paris shifted her butt cheeks, Rasputin was exposed
And Pitka said, “Unlike your legs, this case is FINALLY CLOSED!”
‘Dickhead’ by King Willy (ironic don’t you think?)
Oh Zora Zora Zora, I’ve lost my dear ‘old chap’
It’s boring up in heaven and I really want it back!
They say it’s sitting in a jar,
cloned by chinamen from afar.
Of this I will not have a bar,
Oh Zora Zora Zora.
It comes to me in wonderings strange,
The dear ‘old fellow’ is within your range!
Seated in a museum,
where others flock to see him.
I’ll pay you a per diem,
Dear Zora Zora Zora.
Your mind is filled with thoughts of my member,
so I humbly beg you to remember,
I need my cock for next december, my mighty flames are reduced to embers, so hurry hurry hurry please!
Sweet Zora Zora Zora.
Together we will get it back,
Of this I am quite certain.
Oh Zora dear you ain’t no quack,
just pulling back the curtain.
And when you find I’m in your mind,
bursting your brains with my dick divine,
hurry now there’s little time,I must take someone from behind,
a deity – give it little mind!
My Zora Zora Zora.
The King
Oh dear oh dear. Someone take it over the line quick so I can call this thing to an end!
The Reverend waiting at his desk
On edge he sits and fidgets
Just waiting for someone to take
This thing to double digits.
And just to make it really fair
And keep the post on track
Here’s one more fucking poem
To exclude the dang’d pingback.
*this thing to TRIPLE digits.
Excuse the fuck outta me, Polanski.
Oh thank Christ for that.
The contest is now officially closed for 2010! Thanks to all for your fine poesy and even finer silliness!
Happy New Year!
I’m sorry for the typo
I posted way too quick
I left out “triple digits”
And a reference to some dick
(*GONG*)
*BIG HOOK*
Hey, Reverend, what the hell is this?
You haven’t got a closer?
Too busy doing pushups like
That friggin asshole Dozer?
The Reverend’s brain is foggy
From too much rhythm and rhyme
And his liver’s gotten soggy
So no closin’ pome this time.
Damn.
[img]http://www.oldfishandlemonade.com/pix/dam.jpg[/img]
Anothr grand time, Revrend! Thanks again fer hosting, and fer bein such a sportski.
Very challenging post this year, since it didnt put Rasputins wangr in any new predickament.
But I guess we done pretty well — ovr 100 coments in 1 day fewr than in eithr o th past two events.
Gotta love all th newbies tooski!
Gobbless us, evry friggin one!
>>Very challenging post this year, since it didnt put Rasputins wangr in any new predickament.
No, but it put everybody else’s wanger in one. Something everyone failed to run with…
Hey, it’s hard to run with a wanger that big!
Cheer up. There’s always next year…
twelve months to wait again…
THE Cock that was Chock
With Mysteries Amok
Was a Drawcard, to All and Sundry…
AND So they Appeared
With Rhyming this Year,
Joey, Atlas and Malach –
Who’d have Plumbed it?
Holy horndog, batman: 116 post about Rasputin’s whanger. Psychologists (and maybe a few proctoligists) would have a field day :-)
Hey, Queen Willy needs to keep her HANDS DOWN! The contest is closed!
sorry
Last I heard, a Queen outranks a Bishop.
QW can re-opm th contest if she wantsta.
Anyway, QW wasn’t competing – she was summing up. I will allow that (and I point out that Atlas pushed out one final effort after the gates were closed too…)
I repeat:
We are ALL failures.
In the eyes of The Cow, you are all winners merely by being here. Except Malach of course. He’s a loser no matter what.
I was feeling pretty beat down that day and had so much crap to do I feel I let you all down. For that I am sorry. But it was better than last year’s non-showing. Do I keep the blessing of a frayed tethr?
Hmm. OK, I guess I’ll let you keep your hessian cassock. Maybe you’ll need to write a penance pome.
Re-readin these a while aftr th game ended, some o th ones I find myself enjoyin th most are #73 from Atlas (tho its rootd in a jokeski that is probly known only to him & me, & maybe th Revrend if his memory is real goodski) and #94 from th Revrend (bcause its, like, philosophickle). If theres a Heaven, then I think up there somtimes Rasputin gots his dick & somtimes he dont — all dpending on whats funnyer at th moment.
Im also amusd when poor Inspecktor Pitka, as usual, hasta work ovr th hollydays.
Oh yes – I remember the Bismarck shtick from a ways back. I like a lot of this year’s efforts, even though there wasn’t any of the really sparky tête-à -tête of former years. I think that requires a lot of simultaneous ‘on-line’ time and I get the feeling that everyone was out on the town in RL this year…
But there was some pretty good craft. My personal favourites were:
#17 from Atlas – Having Billy in on things made me laugh.
#34 from Buzzardbilly – Philosophical and apposite.
#40 from Joey – the one I deem most in keeping with this year’s theme, and the one that made me guffaw the loudest.
#77 from Atlas – best visual joke
#84 from jammer5 – best entry by a newbie.
I must say, I did wonder if this year might suffer from too much anticipation, let’s say, and I fear it may have been the case. You will remember a while back that I pomed about ‘the pressure’ for Rasputin always to be stratospheric. 2010 was more paced and less explosive, but we did have some great new players and some nice ‘re-folding’ back into Cow Lore.
Madame Zora is awesome
I’ll allow this particular piece of spam…
The question we must ask is if in Heaven we would find
The Mad Monk and his member, now quite properly combined?
Or is he just a ghostly eunuch, sulky and resigned
While his monstrous part forever roams the world he left behind?
Wow, that’s genius. It’s just like something I might have written.
Here, I reminisce abou’
My years o’ bloggin past,
Wond’ring if, at Tetherd Cow,
This thing has breath’d its last.
The Mad Monk’s merely been deferred
A slight delay won’t hurt you!
Sir Joey, have you never heard
That patience is a virtue?