Pointless and yet somehow...         (is pointful a word?)

January 18th, 2007

This Week's Odd Word

cheese: curd separated from whey, consolidated by molding or pressure, and usually ripened for use as food.


For Sail: one boat. Box.11
For Square: one quadrilateral. Box 4X4.
For Bear: one jar of honey. Box 34.
For Tell: one apple, one arrow and an old dog-eared copy of Naked Lunch. Box 44.
For Gone: one exit sign. Good for stage left only. Previously owned by Snagglepuss. Box 333.
For Sight: wait for pair of glasses. Box 22.

Don't you wish you could see an
Incredibly Lame Cartoon

Last week's Crossword

Another Novel Excerpt:
Faculty Club


Gallery 803
Platform Gallery
P:son Oneline Persiflages

Tips For Winter Living

Tip#14:   Too hot on the bus? Wear your bathing costume under your snowmobile suit! Strip off and make every bus ride a luau!

Want to be added to our mailing list?

Email us at
with "I want to be added to your mailing list" in the subject line.



Mr.Potato Shines His Shoes

Once upon a time there was a potato whose name was Mr. Potato. Mr. Potato lived in a plastic sack with a lot of other potatoes and he liked it just fine except for the fact that often his brogues were covered in a fine brown dust.

This was a bit of a drag for Mr. Potato as he fancied himself a bit of a dandy. The idea of going around (a bit tricky inside a plastic sack) with dirty shoes was anathema to him. Mr. Potato was afraid his filthy footwear would cramp his style with the ladies.

Mr. Potato thought that the only thing holding him back from being quite the ladies's man (or "player" as the kids say) was his lack of shining foot gear. He therefore resolved to get his shoes shined.

Now for you or I to get our shoes shined is a small matter. We have only to go down to the lobby to the shoe stand or wave down one of the many shoe-shine boys roaming the streets with their little wooden boxes. But Mr. Potato needed to put a great deal more thought and planning into getting his shoes shined. For one thing he needed to get out of the plastic sack.

Over the course of three days Mr. Potato, by wiggling, shoving and squeezing, worked his way to the top of the bag. Not the very top, which would of course be dangerous, but near the top. Then when the man who owned the potatos opened the sack and grabbed a couple of Mr. Potato's contubernales to make his morning slumgullion, the intrepid spud bolted.

He was out the kitchen and out of the house in a flash and it was an easy matter to find a shoe stand but the idiot manning it didn't seem to understand anything Mr. Potato was saying. In fact it was as if he didn't even see the small potato at his feet gesturing wildly and pointing to his very soiled shoes. It was very distressing. Mr. Potato realised that if he wanted his shoes shined he would have to do it himself.

Luckily he was very near a rag store and so there he was able to purchase (using some of his winnings from the track)a very serviceable rag with which to clean his shoes. The man at the rag store spoke fluent potato and was very helpful. He was even able to give Mr. Potato directions to a free shoe polish distribution centre which had been set up after all the recent power outages.

Only hours later Mr. Potato had the shiniest shoes in all of Potatodom. Unfortunately he still didn't fare well with the ladies.

It was his breath!