Its been hot the past few days here in Michigan and Ive been giving off a wonderful, new, full-bodied fragrance. I wish you were all here to smell me. It just cant be described… Have I ever told you about the toes on my right foot, the ones that are rotting, and the kind of sweet, country-ham kind of aroma they give off? Well, its kind of like that, but more musky. Its really quite sexy Again, I wish you were all there to smell it.
How about we set up something in Riverside Park next weekend? All my local readers can come out and then Ill jog around for an hour or so, or run some kind of obstacle course, and then, after Im good and sweaty, Ill allow everyone to sniff me for a full minute. Then, everyone will be asked to write a 100-word essay. The winner, the person who, in the opinion of the group, comes the closest to capturing the scent in words, would then win something, like a four free video rentals from my friend Lauras store, Liberty Street Video.
In case of a tie, wed take the top four competitors and have them write a poem about the smell of my decaying right foot.
I have to go and work on my comic for the Ann Arbor Paper now. Please excuse me.
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Frank Zappa’s Stinkfoot Lyrics:
In the dark
Where all the fevers grow
Under the water
(water)
Where the shark bubbles blow
In the mornin
(mornin)
By yer radio
(radio!)
Do the walls close in tsuffocate ya
You aint got no friends . . .
An all the others: they hate ya
Does the life you been leadin gotta go?
Well, let me straighten you out
About a little russian restaurant I know . . .
(get yer shoes n socks on people, its right aroun the corner!)
Out through the night
An the whisperin breezes
To the place where they keep
The imaginary diseases
Out through the night
An the whisperin breezes
To the place where they keep
The imaginary diseases . . .
Now scientists call this disease bromidrosis
(thats right!)
And well they should
Even napoleon knows that
But us regular folks
Who might wear a tennis shoe
Or an occasional python boot
Know this exquisite little inconvenience by the name of:
Stink foot
Yknow, my python boot is too tight
I couldnt get it off last night
A week went by, an now its july
I finally got it off
An my girl-friend cry
You got stink foot! stink foot, darlin
Your stink foot puts a hurt on my nose!
Stink foot! stink foot! I aint lyin,
Can you rinse it off, dyou suppose?
Here fido . . . fido . . .
Here fido . . . bring the slippers little puppy
Yes, thats a good dog! yes!
Arf, arf, arf!
[crash-crumble-bump-bump-bump]
Sick . . .
And now, ladies and gentlemen,
We have a song for you about flying saucers
This song is going to be sung for you by george
And the name of the song is inca roads.