Wed 16 Feb 2011
Bad Moon Rising
Posted by anaglyph under Competition!, In The News, Rasputin
[129] Comments
You know what they say, Faithful Cowpokes: ‘Better late than robots!’ Well, maybe only I say that. But you know what I’m getting at! I know some of you can barely keep your pants on in anticipation of this year’s Annual Rasputin Competition. Well, here it is. For the newcomers, rules, as always, can be found here (I suggest the veterans revisit them too). Obviously the opening and closing dates are not relevant this year, so I’ll keep it running until I stop laughing. It would be nice if we could get some new players too, so spread the word. It’s always more fun with more people.
And lastly, do try to keep it clean.
HAHAHA! Just kidding. Hit me.
Neil Armstrong looked around,
To see what he could find.
“That’s one small step for a man …
One giant [BLEEP] for Mankind.”
Armstrong found Rasputin’s penis
On the moon, you know.
I’d have thought that thing splashed down
A hundred years ago.
In 2001 on the moon
Some astronauts saw, around noon
A dazzling reflection –
‘Twas a giant erection
Sounding an atonal tune.
The mysterious object thrust high
Up into the dark lunar sky
Was truly bizarre –
But much odder by far
Were the words on a plinth found nearby
They were carved in Old Russian with care,
On that pedestal boundless and bare
“There ain’t no disputin’
The renown of Rasputin!
Gaze on my girth and despair!”
(And thus, Percy Shelley and Stanley Kubrik are united via Rasputin’s member)
Wrote Kubrick, “A strange kind of ape
Inhabits the lunar landscape.
Then one ape alone
Lifts up a big bone
With rather an exquisite shape …”
Hahaha!
The findings of NASA today
The Rev’rend will try to gainsay.
But it seems on the Moon,
And perhaps on Neptune,
A Shoo!TAG will keep bugs away.
The lunar lander hit the dirt, and out old Armstrong got.
While looking round for souvenirs, he spotted Rasso’s cock.
“Now there’s a bit of luck for sure” he thought as he spied the bone.
“At least there’ll be, something for me, on that dreadful voyage home!”
The King
Meter is good but you could definitely work on the rhyme…
The Yanks were the first, to be sure
To set FOOT on that ‘far distant shore’
But it’s plain to be seen
That the Ruskies have been
Where no man has gone before
The Weekly World News is just WRONG
In its story that Rasputin’s shlong
On the moon was located.
It’s EXAGGERATED!
There’s NO WAY the thing was THAT long!
Astronaut Neil
Wanted to feel
The thing they had found through the flight;
But Astronaut Buzz
Took over, because
He sported a much better right.
Buzz Buzz Buzz, I wonder why he does?
The King
Rasputin’s cock set of for the moon,
and landed just as planned.
When NASA got there, they got quite a scare,
as the Russians weren’t unmanned.
f
The King
Atlas is missing the show!
Doing the ol’ ‘Han Solo’.
He’s forgotten somehow to visit The Cow,
C’mon buddy dip in your big toe!
Seriously WTF, is he alright?
The King
Braco was shaving his chin one day,
when he saw, in the glass, his own eyes.
Detectives who later found his corpse, were confused about what to put in their reports.
In the end it seemed fair, that his unblinking stare,
was the cause and effect of demise!
The King
A gal on the newspaper staff
Wrote a headline to make people laugh.
The Chicago Tribune:
“THE FIRST MAN ON THE MOON
WAS REALLY A MAN AND A HALF!”
Pitka and his partner showed up at the reservoir.
The partner noticed something that was overlooked so far.
“A shotglass!”, he exclaimed, “And it smells certainly of Scotch!
Someone must have tossed this in and caused the town’s debauch!”
–
Pitka said, “Twas something else tossed in this reservoir.
This small piece of glass, I’m sure, is from Rasputin’s jar!
I know that we’re not homeos; but, yes, there is a chance
That THIS is why we’ve got these goddamn’d boners in our pants!”
Hahaha. Nice tying in there.
Last night the moon was full and dreamy
It made the night seem hot and steamy
It made attempts at lovin’ seemly
But all I saw was Rassy’s weinie.
Rasputin was the greatest of
The male masturbators.
He alone has caused about
A hundred lunar craters.
I asked Joey why he looked so glum
“Braco stared at me, now I feel dumb.”
“You paid him to gaze?” I chided the bum
He curled in a ball and sucked his thumb
“It isn’t the look that makes me dumb”
So said Joey, going cold and numb
“Braco had my eyes, Rasputin, my bum.”
It hurts, bein’ made the butt o’ that jokeski.
The news of this new lunar find
Shows us how the Mad Monk was inclined
‘T’wards a dastardly plan –
Not one small step for man,
But one giant schlong for mankind!
The moon was the ultimate goal
Of the Mad Monk’s gargantuan pole.
And Rasputin sat,
Content knowing that
His lap was Emission Control.
Upon a moon-rock
Lay Rasputin’s cock,
Thoroughly pickled and veinous.
Rasputin then cried,
“Goddammit, I tried
To put that thing into Uranus!”
I’m guessin’ this is what we’ll look back on as a rather OFF year …
… but DANG if I ain’t havin’ a BLASTski!
Celestial math does suggest
That a heavenly body at rest
Provides a strong source
Of magnetic force
As the previous poem will attest.
(*chuckle*)
On the moon, where the gravity is slight
Rasputin has reached a new height
Though the Monk’s feat is rare
Just remember, up there
Even Atlas could stay up all night…
Happiness is… the annual Rasputin Penis Poetry Competition.
‘appiness, did you mean?
Among constellations you’ll find
There’s one to Rasputin assigned.
You’ll find it up there
Inside the Big Bear.
Oh, ‘DIPPER‘. Okay, never mind.
Rasputin’s cock, had rocketed off, the lunar land to find.
It ended up in Armstrong’s butt, the poor old’ Yank’s behind.
The King
Talk about gettin’ straight to it …
Sounds like poor Neil was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Now that our mood has been lightened,
I’m wondering whether we mightn’t
Observe: When moon-shootin’
A cock like Rasputin’s
Would more likely end up on Titan.
Moons out of methane
smell just like propane
it can’t be undone
the damage begun
When Titans are spray’n
By Rasputin’s stain
Rasputin the Lecher just grinned,
As his penis was engined and finned,
Then shot into space,
Straight at the Sun’s face,
To be blown by the dang’d solar wind.
Were Rasputin’s dick to grace
An episode of Lost In Space,
There would be no sight that’s stranger.
WARNING! WARNING! DANGER! DANGER!
[img]https://www.tetherdcow.com/tetherdcow/cowimage/warningwill.jpg[/img]
We know Space is a place to revere
Also Time, with its puzzles so queer,
But I think that we’ve learned
Where Rasputin’s concerned
That it’s Length that’s the final frontier
Forgive my complaining and balking,
But what NOW has the scientists talking
Is that in some black hole
There was found a scrunched pole
Belonging to one Stephen Hawking.
Rasputin stayed up through the night,
Wondering if height makes right.
Astrophysics is complex and dreary
But if Hawking could give us a theory
As to how the Mad Monk
Came to have lunar junk
This news might be somewhat less eerie
Hawking can work out the mass
Of the sum of Shootag’s heated gas
And then when he’s done
Solve trivectors for fun
And blow Shooman Waves out of his ass.
Would competent scientists sever
Their craft from precision? No, NEVER!
Their greatest persuasion’s
In careful equations —
Like E = M … y’know … whatever.
Hahahaha. Actually lol.
To attempt to describe with equations
Those fields that excel in evasions
Is a task fraught with pain
From which I’ll abstain
Except for some special occasions.
With the unaided eye you can see
The Sea of Tranquility.
With a good telescope
You have more than a hope
Of seeing Rasputin’s peepee.
Peepee? Oh dear.
I guess I could have used the French ‘weewee’ …
As in ‘weewee all the way home?’
Oui.
Rasputin, a known scalawag,
While up on the moon, as a gag,
Set up with great care,
To prove he’d been there,
His flag-pole, but minus the flag.
Ha!
The King
On the moon, in the Sea of Tranquility
Neil Armstrong said “Our credibility
Is at stake, if this scam
Is just some dumb ol’ clam!
There’s no figurin’ some folks’ gullibility!”
Upon the return of Apollo,
The story we all had to follow.
But when they displayed
What they found, I’m afraid
We all found it too hard to swallow.
Again, lol.
(Whisky du jour – Aberlour)
Hey.. that rhymes.
Old Braco he jumped in a cab.
The driver said: “Where to me lad?”
But Braco just stared, and the driver he glared,
In the end the poor driver went mad.
…..
Do you think Braco can go window shopping? Or do all the dummies come alive and stuff…
The King
The dummies probably come alive and say, “MMMMMMM – Gooeyduck.”
The incredible liver cleanse diet, will kill you if you ever try it.
Melbourne is drunk, and Rasputin’s a chunk,
on the moon, while poor Braco’s a loon.
The King
Those poor red-faced boys at Nasa,
thought the moon was a tabula rasa.
But when they got there, the big russian bear
Had fucked their ass with kielbasa!
The King
(* chortle *)
Braco began
To stare at a man
And found himself shot all to hell.
The shooter’s aggressive
Hit list was regressive.
He USED TO shoot Harvey Keitel.
Lime juice alone,
Removes the gallstones
That formed in your liver instead.
But lovely Tsetsinka,
Uncritical thinkers,
Is COUNTING ON rocks in your head.
Rasputin was livid at how
His dick was still on display now.
But then he’d begun
To see how much fun
The folks would have at Tetherd Cow.
Al Shepard considered a snub
This latest Rasputin hubbub.
He spat and he cursed,
Thinking he’d been the first
On the moon with some balls and a club.
Rasputin’s re-entry was rough;
But he was just lucky enough
To get back to earth.
But, for what it’s worth,
He’d left behind all the right stuff.
Think I’ll call it, friends. Having a lot of fun, but am suffering from excruciating back pain and my concentration is waning.
Thanks Sir Joey, William and Casey. I think we made a pretty good fist of it (so to speak) and the old Monk would be proud. Can’t fathom the no-show of Atlas – we’ll just have to assume he had better things to do (I know, hard to imagine).
Sláinte all! I’ll try and make it happen at the correct time in 2012 (if the world doesn’t end on the first day of the year, that is).
Hey, sorry to hear about the back-pain, Rev. Is that a regular / recurring thing, or something unusual? I hope it’s something incidental and fleeting.
Ah, but HOOOOOOOOOO! That was FUNski — as ALWAYS! Thanks again to you, Reverend, for hosting!
Really, that SHOULDN’T have worked! The Rasputin thing, in my mind, had become so bound up with the holidays — being on vacation, drinking like a fish, and the general festivities of the season — that I had my doubts that the eventual (postponed) event this year could be anything more than a formality. After all, it came unexpectedly, in the middle of a work-week, and long after the holiday mood had passed. But — DANG! — was I ever WRONGski! I think I may have had more fun this year than I had throughout all the past years’ events. It was definitely different, with the postponement and the minimum of players; but there was an unusual … ummm … intimacy and … uhhh … a discipline in the activity that was unlike anything we’ve seen yet. This is the first year that I tried to comply with the general preference (included in The Rules, for limericks; and I found that especially (and pleasantly) challenging. For, while limericks are essentially associated with humor, it IS very difficult to get an effective joke to FIT into proper limerick form. And I don’t think I’ve ever done this much limericking in so short a stretch before. ‘Twas quite a workout for me! And thoroughly enjoyable!
And look at how we’ve done, despite having only four players in the game! I think there’s something in the neighborhood of 55 poemskis! And — not to pat myself too overtly on the back, since I really WAS expecting only to “put in an appearance” this year — I think I came close (quantitatively) to my previous high. That was probably due in part to the game having been allowed to continue for a good stretch of days; but I repeat: I HAD A FUCKING GREAT TIME! And I thank all o’ youse for that!
(And you, Rev, would be especially glad that you called the contest when you did, had you seen the limerick I was preparing to post when I heard the final bell ring. It was really, really … well … you know …)
As for the paucity of players this year, I’ve deliberately kept silent on that. Like most others, I wish there had been all the players we’ve seen in the past and more besides. But I confess that I had an interest in remaining silent. I was one of only three folks who posted poemskis at all five of the past years’ events (including the one undoubtedly UNofficial one); and both of the other two decided to sit this one out. That, o’course, leaves MEski with the honor of being the only six-year Rasputiner! You didn’t think I was gonna try to coax any o’ them other two to PLAY, didja? Heck, NO! In fact, I’m not above lobbying to have some special trinket placed on Joey’s Shelf to commemorate my dang’d achievement!
Of course, if we consider only the past FOUR Rasputin poem-fests — the one’s that have been explicitly ENDORSED by Tetherd Cow Ahead — then I, as a PERPETUAL PLAYER, am joined by both the Reverend and King Willy. And I’m already looking forward to the next event — which is, by my count, only 314 days away!
I should add that, since the end of the JPS, I have much less of a voice in cyberspace. Most of the folks who frequented that blogski have either quit blogging or have taken their blogskis PRIVATE. And NONE of them reads Atlanski. This severely limited my ability to draw in new poemers to our beloved game here. I did, for what it’s worth, issue an explicit invitation to a blogger I recently discovered, who seems like he / she is “one of US”; but, unfortunately, he / she was set to embark on a trip when the Rasputin event began. Maybe next year, right? I mean … Who among us doubts we’ll see another one of these?
Casey, King Willy, and (especially) Reverend Anaglyph: THE POLE SALUTES YOU!
I thought this was a particularly good round of Rasputin humour, and there was a lot of room for clever improvising. I am sorry that I couldn’t get it together for New Year. I’ve had this particular idea in mind for ages – I just simply didn’t have the time to execute it. Even if I had, I’d not have been able to play, being on holiday in New York with the family as I was. So it was fun to get it happening even if it was a mite tardy.
I also like that there was a good thread to it this year too – some nice bouncing off the ones that had come before, and some nice tying in of other Cow memes (it just couldn’t be the Rasputin Competition without Pitka making an appearance!) And I enjoyed the conversational asides, particularly the whisky one. It got me to thinking that maybe I’ll even do a post about such matters.
As for Joey’s shelf, well, if you visit it regularly, you may be surprised at what you find. The TCA basement is a very… shall we say… ‘lively’… place. I just hope the plumbing is fixed.
As for the State of the Blogosphere, and the vanishment of its inhabitants, well, you can be certain that TCA is not going anywhere just yet. I know that the tilt of the Cow has shifted more towards skeptical writing of late, and is not so much occupied with trivia, but, as I have said before, TCA is simply about what takes my fancy in the world. That’s all it ever was, that’s all it ever will be. I like to think that it’s a blog that is content rich, rather than just a ‘Gee, look at this great video I found on YouTube’ kinda place. I don’t make attempts to structure my blog to appeal to any particular kind of readership and I hope, instead, that I attract readers who are just interested in the things I write about. My entire career has been underpinned by my inability to tap the zeitgeist, so I see no reason to attempt to appeal to commercial sensibilities at this late stage in my life.
It may interest people to know that there are something in the order of 80 to 150 regular readers of The Cow, far more than it would appear by just scanning the comments. The Cow pages are accessed a staggering 2000 times a day, by visitors from all over the globe. At times (this post, for example) TCA has gained a temporary readership of some 10 to 12 thousand people. Some of those have stayed on to become regulars.
Thanks for the sympathies regarding my back pain Sir Joey. It’s temporary, but awful. I’m doing a post about it as I lay here incapacitated.
Thanks once again to all the Players for this year.
Much obliged to you Rev, I had a rather severe head cold whilst doing this, and it kept me from feeling sorry for myself.
To Casey, Sir Joey et al much salutin’
I enjoyed your little rhymes about Rasputin!
Who would have thought I could find a Polish sausage that rhymed. It just shows how widespread Sir Joey’s influence really is…
And to Atlas, we missed you pal and I truly hope all is well.
The King
A few more “final” reflections here …
It was probably clear in my earlier reflections; but, just in case it wasn’t … It’s only in the abstract, Reverend, that I lament the postponement of the contest this year. In the concrete, of course, I wholly understand why you couldn’t run the game — or run it AND play in it — at the usual time. It’s my understanding — and, if correct, the other players should know — that you DID offer (back in December) to “hand off” this year’s contest to Atlas and me over at Atlanski, so that it might be held on New Year’s Day, and we declined the offer. Part of the reason for that had to do with certain internal discussions he and I were having about Atlanski matters, but two other reasons are worth mentioning.
First, I really wouldn’t want the task of having to craft the official post for the contest every year (or ANY year, for that matter). I don’t really know how difficult that task is — maybe it’s easy, maybe it ain’t — but much of the fun for ME each year is due to the fact that I have nothing to do with … the design of the game-board. Some boards have been easier to play than others, some have been more fun to play than others; but I really like having to deal with a design not of my own making. I like that there’s sort of a “problem to be solved.”
Second, there are many elements in this jolly tradition, and if one of those elements has, on some occasion, to be set aside, I’d much rather set aside the January 1 date than the TCA connection. For one thing, TCA has far more readers than Atlanski (thanks for the stats!); and, for another thing, the tradition has involved that emergent element of tying in with various bits, new and old, of established Cow lore. This has come in part because of the establishment of the newspage mock-up as the usual format for the posts; but it’s also rooted in the feeling of community that has developed among us long-time players of the game and readers of the Cow. In short, whatever might have been lost because of the postponement (anything?), much MORE would have been lost by an on-schedule event at other digs. I’m certain of THAT.
As for the slight tack in the general course of the Cow lately, yes, I’ve noticed that; but I certainly don’t bemoan it. Part of what I’ve always liked about TCA is its blend of the comedic and the critical. And I’ve long believed (a) that the best blogging “formula” is one that reconciles unity with variety, (b) that one of the best ways of achieving that is to allow ONESELF (one’s own shtick / sensibility) to be the blog’s central principle, (c) that allowing ONESELF to be the blog’s central principle does NOT mean that ONESELF has to be the SUBJECT of the blog, and (d) that worthwhile blogging involves WORK (i.e., CRAFT). So, whether you’ve tapped the Zeitgeist or not, I’d say you’ve been … well … doin’ it right.
In fact, if we might be reduced to mottos or maxims, I suspect the YOU-maxim might be “Whether you’re light-of-heart or serious-of-mind, you ought to be rational,” while the ME-maxim might be “Whether you’re rational or irrational, you ought to be laughing.” Perhaps deep down those are not 100% compatible, but in the great blogospheric jam-session, I think we’ve played pretty well together over the years.
>>“Whether you’re light-of-heart or serious-of-mind, you ought to be rational,†while the ME-maxim might be “Whether you’re rational or irrational, you ought to be laughing.â€
I think I’d have to come down on the side of laughing, though, in the end. If you lose your capacity to laugh at/with the world (the rational and the not-so-rational) then you lose your ability to live life properly.
In the great scope of skeptical approaches, I tend toward the ‘shaking-of-head-and-laughing-at’ which does get me in trouble with some of my ‘you-need-to-be-more-tolerant-and-educational’ skeptical peers.
In general, I find blogging consistently quite difficult. There’s a real balancing act that is pretty hard to maintain. I want to be ‘open’ enough to allow the ebb and the flow of participation, but strict enough to keep a certain ‘Cowness’ in operation. I do like the opportunity to frame my skepticism and critical thinking in ways that people might learn something (as I myself did, so long ago) but I don’t want arriving at The Cow to be a drag – ‘OH GOD! Not another frikkin’ two thousand word sermon!’ I also want it to convey something of my personality, and to try experiments on my readers (there is a lot of crafting that goes on behind the scenes that is probably invisible. I spend time, for instance, on cross-linking large concepts like ShooTag and Steorn so that readers who might chance upon any particular post about them can find a context for them, if they choose, rather than just read one article and then get lost in general Cowdom. Cow matters like Joey’s Shelf and the Shoppe are constantly evolving, although it’s hard to get much of an idea of whether people notice that or not.)
Also, committing to a regular event like Rasputin can be tricky. I agree with everything you said about me moving it – I much prefer it to be hosted here, for all the reasons you gave, and my offer for Atlanski to host it was really more in the vein of a ‘guest appearance’ than an intention that it should be permanent. I knew I would get around to a delayed version of it eventually (as I said, I had the idea kicking around already) but I didn’t know when I’d get to it. As it was, I’ve already been chastised by Cissy Strutt and one other reader (but not contributor!) for putting it on unannounced, and in retrospect, I should have made a ‘heads up’ as I usually do – just didn’t think about it. So my apologies for those who couldn’t play because they were otherwise occupied.
I may have let it run longer under normal circumstances, but I totally forgot that my anniversary post for Kate was hot on its heels, which kind of closed it down for me.
Oh well – it’s the great weft and weave of the blog-o-thing. Next year, all going well, we’ll be back on track, and I already have an idea. Mwahahahah!
Thanks again all you Sycowphants, for hanging around the hem of the robe of the Cow!
I was worried about Ciss, and glad to know it was just the unexpected scheduling of the event that kept her from playing.
Of course, neither my worry nor my relief will keep me from basking in my new status as the only perfect attendee. I’ll have to remember to thank you and your sneaky timing, Reverend, when I make my speech in accepting whatever major award comes my way because of it.
She was at a writing conference. She did have a pome, and I encouraged her to throw it in anyway, even if it was late.
As for an award… you are the ONLY one with a whole shelf. What more do you want!
Do NOT let Cissy submit her poem late. Cuz if she DOES, then I’m gonna submit the one that was ready to go when you sounded the gong.
And you’ll really, really, REALLY be sorry when I do.
I mean … REALLY!
Is that supposed to make me NOT want to allow Cissy’s poem?
I mean, your rhyming can’t be THAT bad.
So where the heck is Cissy’s poemski?
‘Cuz I really, really, REALLY wanna post mineski!
I mean … REALLY!
Cissy is somewhere in snow-covered Bavaria at the moment. I don’t think poemin’ is likely to be forthcoming.