all flockbinkers are treadknicious… and other salient observations

Forays into Logic, Whimsy, Meaning, Hilarity, and Nonsense.

Category: The Blogger

Important Announcement Regarding New Flockbinker Schedule. No! Seriously!

 

Abstract:  In which the Blogger puts on his ‘gosh, i really mean it’ hat and launches into a discussion of the… well, what has historically been a somewhat funky posting schedule for the “All Flockbinkers” blog… and the possible advantages to setting it on a regular, weekly footing.


 

The blog “All Flockbinkers Are Treadknicious… And Other Salient Observations” has been online for several years now. However, as i look at my blog posting counter i see that we’ve only posted to it about 70 times. There’s a perfectly good reason for this: The Blogger’s inability to manage his life in a way that is reasonable or structured. No! Wait! That’s not what i was going to say! [The] Good Reader, are you messing around with my computer interface again?

 

The Good Reader:  Me? Naw. That’s not the sort of thing i would ever do. Heh heh heh.

The Blogger:  Well, let’s just hope so! Because i’m about to make an important announcement!

The Good Reader:  Blogger, if you have something important to say, i’ll just sit here as quiet as a mouse and respectfully listen to the gushing stream of nourishing wisdom that is doubtless about to come bursting forth from your honeyed lips.

The Blogger:  Well, i’ll be blowed.  [momentarily forgets what he was going to say, while turning seventeen shades of red]  Ahem. Well! Here’s the announcement. This blog is becoming just a wee bit more popular these days, which puts me in mind of the old saying, “You can lead a horse to water, but too many cooks spoil the broth.”

The Good Reader:  Sorry Blogger. That’s not actually a saying.

The Blogger:  It is!  [makes his worst pouty face]  You always want to ruin everything. You said you were going to stay quiet.

The Good Reader:  Oops. Sorry. It just sort of popped out. Anyway, i think what you were wanting to say is that some changes may be afoot, since you now have more than three-and-a-half people reading your blog.

The Blogger:  Um. That’s not the way i’d have wanted to put it, but yes. Something like that. Some changes may be afoot.

The Good Reader:  That sounds terrific! What kind of thing did you have in mind? Are you considering adopting a policy of only saying things that make sense?

The Blogger:  Well, that’s not it exactly… Hey! Waittasecond! You scoundrel! Stop it! You’re goofing up my important announcement!

The Good Reader:  Sorry. No, you’re right, i shouldn’t do that to you while you’re trying to communicate with your wee little handful of readers. I’ll just sit here while you talk.

The Blogger:  Well, okay then. Here’s the announcement: I’m thinking of moving this blog to a regular, once-a-week schedule, and posting at the same time every week, so my followers will have a better idea of when the new posts are going up.

The Good Reader:  That sounds terrific! Consistency is always a good thing. I bet your readers–all three and a half of them–will genuinely appreciate a more regular, predictable schedule of postings!

The Blogger:  That’s exactly what i’ve been thinking. (Most of it, grrr.) And the expert voices in the area of internet dynamics seem to think so, too.  From what i’ve read, a weekly schedule of blog posting would be a good rhythm for this Flockbinker journal to fall into.

The Good Reader:  I have to say, i completely agree. Up until the past few months or so, your posting schedule has tended to resemble the flight of the phoenix.

The Blogger:  But the phoenix is a fictional bird.

The Good Reader:  My point exactly.

The Blogger:  Oh. Right. Okay. So, anyway, beginning right around this month or so, i’m going to move these blog posts to a regular weekly schedule. I think i’ll still experiment with various times of day, just to see when the greatest number of readers seems to be available. But i’m going to try and keep the postings to the same day every week.

The Good Reader:  Well, you know what they say: A stitch in time, and then what the cat drags in.

The Blogger:  What? That didn’t make any sense at all!

The Good Reader:  Oops. Sorry. I can’t imagine what i was thinking.

 

Epilogue

So–seriously, guys–i’m gonna try to get this blog onto a regular, weekly posting schedule from now on. If you have any input for me about the ideal time to post new material during the week, please be in touch! And i love each of you as if you were my own fourth cousin, twice removed!

 

 

O for a Glubbamimp, a Glubbamimp, a Glubbamimp!

 

Abstract:  In which the Blogger opens up a bit, makes himself vulnerable… and actually reveals the text of a letter he recently sent to one of his favorite authors.


 

Here, o most excellent readers, for your reading pleasure, is a letter that i wrote recently to one of my favorite fiction writers. I have withheld his/her name for the sake of privacy, and also, y’know, to prevent a possible lawsuit:

“To the hon. [name withheld], author extraordinaire, generally cool gal… oops… dammit… etc. etc.

“I have followed your career and your growing body of work with considerable interest. In particular among my favorite books you’ve written is that one about the thing where this guy did some stuff, and then something else happened–I was roaring!–and then they all got together, and blows were exchanged, and then that other thing happened, and whatnot. That one was WAY cool.

“Allow me to encourage you, as one Veteran Writer to another, to keep on writing! Don’t ever let the howling disappropation and bitter recriminations of your stupid, utterly tasteless readers discourage you. At least, that’s the approach that *I* take in similar circumstances.

“As you become known around the world, and even throughout the far-flung starfields–even on some of those somewhat rough-around-the-edges worlds like Rhombus 14, where the residents pass the time during their banquets stuffing their tentacles up each other’s noses, making vulgar observations about one another’s sisters, and reciting passages from the works of Throm Nimbus Yourmom, the only real poet ever to have emerged from among their ranks, responsible for such classics as “I Vomit Upon Your Highest Aspirations” and “What? Oh, Shut Up” and “O For a Glubbamimp, a Glubbamimp, a Glubbamimp,” and “If You Don’t Back Away Right Now, So Help Me” and of course the classic for which their race is known, “Don’t Ya Hate Everything That Is of Any Value? ‘Cause I Do”–even, i say, on worlds such as this, as your fame spreads, i hope you will not forget the adulation of your early fans, somewhat weak in the tentacle department, ha ha, ha ha, but strong in spirit and enthusiasm.

“Very Truly Yours,

“The Blogger”

 

 

Spotlight on the Oft-Neglected Wamwam

 

Abstract:  In which some attempt is made to discuss wamwams: to establish their ontological status, distinguish them from flockbinkers (and woodoos and frou-frous and humma-hummas and bumma-bummas and blastcabbages and CharlesBabbages and Your Mom and a long list of everything else), to figure out what exactly makes them tick, and to discover what sorts of things they pick up when they go to the supermarket.


 

One of the ongoingly vexing things about this blog, is that we keep using terms that we don’t even know the meanings of.

(No, wait. That can’t be right.)

What we meant to say, is that we sometimes speak of things about which many people have a somewhat limited understanding.

(There. That’s much better.)

One of these somewhat abstruse terms is “wamwam.” It you’re a follower of the blog, you’ve seen this word appear on numerous occasions, and you may have been as confused as we are about what it means.

(No, wait. That’s not at all what we meant to say.)

What we meant to say, is that the term “wamwam” is a somewhat difficult one, requiring a delicate linguistic touch and a healthy dose of philosophical insight.

So: Why don’t we devote the current post to an examination of this term, “wamwam,” with the hope of arriving at some even remote understanding of what the blasted term means?

(No, wait.)

 

The Good Reader:  Howdy there, Blogger! I see that i’ve arrived at just the right time to get in some good discussion of some of your favorite meaningless terms.

The Blogger:  Howdy, The Good Reader! Your wit appears to be as sharp as ever.

The Good Reader:  You flatter me. [smiles sweetly]

The Blogger:  So, how do you view our prospects for solving the mystery of the humble wamwam?

The Good Reader:  Far as i’m concerned, there’s no mystery at all.

The Blogger:  Seriously? Why this IS good news? What do you have to tell us about wamwams? Do enlighten us!

The Good Reader:  Sure thing. They don’t exist.

The Blogger:  Wha– um, i mean– surely you can’t–

The Good Reader:  They are as fictional as the unicorn.

The Blogger:  Well now, um, as we’ve seen in an earlier one of these posts to the All Flockbinkers blog, unicorns aren’t actually fictional. They’re something more like, oh, “archetypal” or “ontologically scrappy” or “they show up on weekends and certain holidays.”

The Good Reader:  Um.

The Blogger:  Seriously, unicorns aren’t fictional. They’re more like, oh, “trans-existent.” Or maybe, “provisional.” Or i dunno, maybe, “sorta missional”…?

The Good Reader:  Okay. Anyway, you were wanting to talk about wamwams.

The Blogger:  Um, yes, of course. Wamwams. One of the more real entities featured in that astonishingly diverse body of materials that we call “the universe.”

The Good Reader:  Um.

The Blogger:  So. I was thinking that i might enumerate some of the things that we know to be true about wamwams, maybe?

The Good Reader:  Knock yourself out. My movie doesn’t start for another hour.

The Blogger:  Cool! Well, the first thing that most people would think of, when the term “wamwam” is mentioned, would be, “it’s somehow related to flockbinkers.”

The Good Reader:  Um. That doesn’t establish it as a real thing. Quite the opposite, really.

The Blogger:  Oh, please, stop! Your ignorance of even the most basic principles of philosophy is showing itself.

The Good Reader:  Okay.

The Blogger:  So flockbinkers and wamwams are part of the same family, let’s say. They both fit into a similar category of reality.

The Good Reader:  Like, “Words that are fun to say when you’re wanting to get a laugh out of a classroom full of third graders?”

The Blogger:  I shall ignore that highly ignorant remark.

The Good Reader:  Knock yourself out.

The Blogger:  You say that with distressing regularity. Anyway, flockbinkers and wamwams are what we might want to call “ontological cousins”–they belong to a similar sector of reality. But they’re not the same thing.

The Good Reader:  No, of course not. Not at *all* the same thing.

The Blogger:  No. So what we’re wanting to do here, is to establish what exactly is unique about wamwams–how they are different from flockbinkers.

The Good Reader:  Okay.

The Blogger:  Um, well, first-off, i think we can say that–

A Flockbinker:  [appears out of nowhere]  Howdy.

[The flockbinker disappears in a puff of smoke]

The Good Reader:  Wait. Was that a flockbinker?

The Blogger:  It was indeed! Sorry about the brevity of his greeting. Flockbinkers tend not to be very talkative.

The Good Reader:  But… i mean… golly… what i mean is… he’s actually real?

The Blogger:  Well, of COURSE he is! What do you think we’ve been talking about all these years?

The Good Reader:  I figured i was just patiently indulging the ravings of your fevered brain as it attempted to sort through things it had absorbed in nursery school.

The Blogger:  Oh no. No no. There’s nothing fevered about MY brain! Flockbinkers are very real indeed! And–here’s the point we’re interested in right now–so are wamwams.

The Good Reader:  [muttering to herself]  Golly. Something to think about.

The Blogger:  Um, indeed, and furthermore–

[enter none other than the Three Scotsmen!]

Scotsman #1:  I see you’re addressin’ the abstruse philosophical themes agayne.

Scotsman #2:  It’s the kind o’ thing that really gets me blood up! Whooh!

Scotsman #3:  Sittin’ on a fence.

The Good Reader:  Oh my word. WHAT do we have here.

The Blogger:  You can’t tell me you’ve never met the Three Scotsmen? You’ve been on this blog for, how long now? I’d have figured you would have crossed paths with ’em at some point.

The Good Reader:  No, i don’t think so. I’d have remembered it, i’m pretty sure.

The Blogger:  Well, there there are, in all their Celtic glory.

[the three Scotsmen beam congenially]

The Good Reader:  That second one is kind of handsome.

The Blogger:  I cannot think of a less relevant observation, The Good Reader. You surprise me.

The Good Reader:  Hey, i’m just sayin’.

Scotsman #2:  [blushing]  Milady pays me an undesoorved compliment.

The Good Reader:  [curtseys like a champ]

The Blogger:  Oh, stop it, you two! I be-leeeeeve that we were talking about wamwams.

Scotsman #2:  Indeed we wehre.

Scotsman #1:  In all their ontological glory.

Scotsman #3:  Sittin’ on a fence.

The Good Reader:  …and whether or not they exist.

The Blogger:  Stop that! Of course they exist! Well, um, i mean… it’s complicated.

The Good Reader:  That’s your favorite thing to say.

A Flockbinker:  [appears briefly, just long enough to say]  Howdy.

The Blogger:  Oh, shut up.

 

 

 

The Good Reader Appears to Be in an Unusually Good Mood.

 

Abstract:  In which our good friend, The Good Reader, enters stage left and spreads clouds of euphoria all about. And what can be the cause of this unaccustomed good humor? WE DON’T KNOW! But, doggone it, we’re about to find out.


 

The Good Reader has been one of the central characters on this blog since its inception, or the point when we started the blog, whichever came first. She is a fairly sharp cookie, and enjoys engaging the Blogger in a variety of topics, often taking the devil’s advocate position simply to keep things lively. Um, at least we assume this is why she would even consider taking a position different from that of the Blogger. It’s difficult to think of any other reason. I mean. Anyway.

Regrettably, The Good Reader often appears to be in a less than ideal mood, perhaps owing to her being unaccustomed to philosophical discourse–

The Good Reader:  Now, just you wait one cotton-frickin’ minute, Mister Blogger. I’m every bit as good with “philosophical discourse” as you are. At LEAST.

The Blogger:  Well now, if it isn’t The Good Reader herself, in the flesh! How delightful to receive a visit from you.

The Good Reader:  Don’t change the subject.

The Blogger:  Absolutely not! We were about to talk about the fact that you’ve recently seemed to be in a much better mood than you’ve tended to be in, in the past.

The Good Reader:  Hrrmph. Well, i guess that’s sort of true.

The Blogger:  So, i imagine our readers are curious to know what’s the cause of your change of mood?

The Good Reader:  Readers? Our ‘readers’? What readers? What do you mean, ‘readers’?

The Blogger:  Um, oh dear, ooff.

The Good Reader:  ‘Readers.’ What a queer sort of thing to say, Mister Blogger.

The Blogger:  Um, uh, it was a figure of speech.

The Good Reader:  A figure of speech? Meaning what? You’re not making any sense.

The Blogger:  Um, er, ahem, so what prompts this change of mood?

The Good Reader:  Mmmm. Well, i’ve had some really good news this morning!

The Blogger:  Indeed?

The Good Reader:  Indeed what?

The Blogger:  Indeed: what’s the good news!

The Good Reader:  Oh. Right. I feel silly. Well, the good news is that my nephew just earned his black belt!

The Blogger:  He earned his black belt?

The Good Reader:  He did.

The Blogger:  What martial art does he practice?

The Good Reader:  Oh, i don’t know, “Hae Kwon Phu” or something. I can’t keep them all sifted out in my mind. It sure looks impressive, though.

The Blogger:  I didn’t even know you had a nephew.

The Good Reader:  There is much that you do not know about me, oh Mister Blogger-Fellow. I am a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma.

The Blogger:  Say, that was good! “A mystery stuffed into a riddle.” Did i get that right?

The Good Reader:  Oh, close enough for rock and roll.

The Blogger:  Is this an expression of your own devising?

The Good Reader:  Nah. I think Sir Winston Churchill came up with it.

The Blogger:  Such a clever chap, that Sir Wilson Churchwell.

The Good Reader:  Ahem. Back to my little nephew.

The Blogger:  Yes. A prodigy, by the sound of it!

The Good Reader:  Kid’s a regular martial arts phenomenon! He was kicking, um, hiney, and taking names.

The Blogger:  Your pleasure in his achievement seems entirely justified.

The Good Reader:  You’re dern tootin’!  [a proud expression invests itself upon her features]  He made one of the other little boys cry.

The Blogger:  Did he now! Well, that’s just wonderful.

The Good Reader:  I’m so proud of him.

The Blogger:  I hope he didn’t get in trouble for wounding one of his fellow competitors.

The Good Reader:  What? Oh! No, you don’t understand. He didn’t HURT anybody. He used LOGIC on them.

The Blogger:  Ah, so he… um. Waittasecond. He used LOGIC on one of the other children?

The Good Reader:  [beaming]  He did. And i know you and i have had our differences, Mr. Blogger, but i must confess that i stole some of your logic oriented material and fed it to him to use during the tournament, before he went up there.

The Blogger:  The Good Reader, you must fill me… and my readership… in on all of the juicy details!

The Good Reader:  Sure thing! No. Wait. Your ‘readership’? What in the Sam Hill are you talking about?

The Blogger:  Oh, ha ha, just messing around with you, ha ha, once again, ha ha.

The Good Reader:  [a somewhat dark expression on her face]  Okay. Whatever. So little Aloysius was up against another little fellow who seemed bigger and more aggressive than he was, and i was honestly kind of afraid for him.

The Blogger:  The poor tyke!

The Good Reader:  And i could tell that he was kind of nervous.

The Blogger:  Bless his heart!

The Good Reader:  But then, i saw a kind of resolution pass over his brow, if i can put it that way, and he leaned in and whispered something to the other little boy.

The Blogger:  Did he now! Probably something along the lines of, “Please don’t break too many of my bones.”

The Good Reader:  Ha! No. I’ll tell you what he whispered to him. This is based on what Aloysius told me about it later. He said, and i quote, “All flockbinkers are treadknicious.”

The Blogger:  No!

The Good Reader:  He did.

The Blogger:  You’re toasting my egg noodle!

The Good Reader:  Nope, not that that expression means anything. That’s what he said. See, i had prepped him before the event. And the other little boy fell back a little bit.

The Blogger:  I should say! No one can stand before the force of sheer logic.

The Good Reader:  I guess not. And then Aloysius–

The Blogger:  That’s a terrible name, by the way.

The Good Reader:  Right, right. So then Aloysius took a step toward the other fellow, and whispered to him, “And all wamwams are flockbinkers.”

The Blogger:  Well i’ll be.

The Good Reader:  Now, the other kid was beginning to get kind of shaken up, you know, sort of confused and disoriented.

The Blogger:  There’s no force stronger than logic.

The Good Reader:  I guess not. And then… remember, the round hasn’t even begun yet, they’re just standing there on the mat… Aloysius…

The Blogger:  He’s had to go through life with that name.

The Good Reader:  Right, just for a few years. He’s eleven. Aloysius leans in and whispers one more thing to the other kiddo, who begins shaking violently, and weeping openly. You want to know what he said?

The Blogger:  [proudly]  I can guess. I bet he said, “Therefore, all wamwams are treadknicious.” Hmm? That’s what he said?

The Good Reader:  That’s what he said. He’s a black belt now.

The Blogger:  Well of course he is. How proud you must be.

The Good Reader:  I really am. I gotta thank you for the gift of logic, Mister Blogger. I know we’ve had our differences, but i have now seen with my own eyes the power of logical discourse.

The Blogger:  What’ve i been telling you all this time?

The Good Reader:  I know, i know. You were right about at least that one thing.

 

 

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