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October 6, 2005

Volume 7, Issue 6

Today's theme is these three words:

blue

nine

eaten

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Comments

Running home from school, racing my brother, already negotiating. Who would distract mother, who could get the tv on soonest. All that occupied our minds - Andy Griffith, Munsters, Hogan's Heroes - waiting for us. We HAD to get to the tv. The later shows with their sleezy inuendos and drug related comments "There's a monkey on my foot", couldn't hold a candle to our shows. The kids laughed and our parents never understood us, running around playing Klink and Schultz. But my dad had had it when I responded, in my best German accent, "Have I eaton thee bleu cheese? Nine!"

Posted by: kasac at October 6, 2005 8:47 AM · Permalink

HMS Perserverance
Captain Bartholomew Tustin

Nine long weeks have passed since we left the French colony at Newfoundland. Sadly, the few edible stores we acquired there were eaten weeks ago. I envy the curious French for their ability to consume anything they can force down their gullets.

The ice remains treacherous, forcing constant tacking switchbacks as it flows in enormous bergs all around. Midshipman Jenkins had a knack for keeping a true course but he eventually had to be relieved after frostbite rendered his appendages a most distressing bluish-black.

Nonetheless, I feel certain we will discover the fabled Northwest Passage.

Posted by: Jim Parkinson at October 6, 2005 11:52 AM · Permalink

This is the emotional let down from reaching the end of a horribly long project. For me yesterday marked the end of the Clinton Lie database marathon. Two years… Two years of the sorrow which comes from knowing too much about Hillary and Monica and Jessica and Vince and how power matters more than size.

I am feeling blue. My editor assigned this monstrous project. He called the story, “Bill Clinton’s nine biggest lies.” It seems impossible that anyone could sort them and qualify them. Today, Louis Freeh reveals more crap. Bill Clinton has eaten a hole in my heart.

Posted by: joltman at October 6, 2005 2:30 PM · Permalink

We hadn't eaten in nine days, since Frank cracked up his Cessna on the side of the mountain. It would be another twelve days before anyone missed us, when we didn't return from our three-week fishing trip. And it was cold at night in the Yukon. Frank was pretty busted up, and did nothing but moan in delirium the first few days. Around day five, he had a lucid moment, but the cold and his injuries were wearing him down. I looked over at him again in the firelight, and saw that his lips were blue. Tomorrow I would eat.

Posted by: hnumpah at October 6, 2005 4:31 PM · Permalink