Friend,
Dag blasted, bowling balls are downright expensive! The union workers who manufacture bowling balls are stingy little dream killers, charging as much as twenty dollars per finger hole while they get paid to take naps when they’re not doddling around the water cooler (if they even bother showing up that day). There are five holes in a bowling ball I think and each corresponds to a single digit. By the time they do the math for you, you are paying $499.95 plus insurance for a bored out spherical rock.
Listen carefully: that does not include a carrying bag. You can’t just palm this thing while you’re out getting groceries, you need a special bag that is made by a whole other set of workers who are doing their level best to dismantle capitalism as part of an international revolution, starting with bowling and the sport of bowling I think by the looks of it anyway.
I won’t pay it. I won’t be bothering those people anymore, as my father says. I will instead be making my own. I noticed in my line of work, I go through a lot of crystal balls. I break them, they fall off the table when evil spirits visit, then between earthquakes and monster storms, plus I have a sadistic orange tabby cat who sneaks in and bats them around and, when I confront him about it, he denies all culpability. I am sure he belongs to the union, but I can never prove it. He is so aloof @#$! What secrets he hides.
I have a good store of crystal orbs that are no longer magic but they are still perfectly intact. About 10 of them are exactly the same size as a regulation bowling ball! I have stockpiled them in my crawlspaces for centuries. Imagine how lucky I feel. I also have a few leftovers that are still mostly magical give or take, and I have talked to several conjuring specialists who explained in detail how I could actually retool the ball spells specifically for the sport of bowling free of charge by simply reversing the spiritual polarity from yin to yang.
Before I go any further, I want to warn you that my experiment failed to yield quality results. Stop now before you get hurt. Drilling into a crystal ball you might as well use a sledgehammer because both render the same outcome: shards of glass jabbing your shinbone. I may have also needed something more sturdy than salad tongs to fasten the spheres to the work surface. Ultimately, I was unable to do anything except I managed to orbit several of them on the wood down at the neighborhood bowling facility only to see them blotted to pieces once they hit the pins. The glass in a crystal ball is fragile, acting brittle when smashed against things. The pins barely moved.
Even the magic balls were vexed, as if the pins themselves were built to reflect metaphysical charms in a union shop. I spoke to the former alley boss at Farnwick Bowling Arena about it, a nice retired woman, she told me that probably the pins were made by a traveling show of gypsies in the 1890’s but that she didn’t really know for sure. She also mentioned the site was originally a slaughterhouse for wayward stud bulls and the lanes themselves were made from the same boards that used to line the killing floor.
I consulted the spirits later and learned that the bowling alley designer, Edward T. Farnwick, was this staunch catholic child of 25 who inherited a windfall from an uncle who struck gold then dropped dead of shock who had no direct descendants. So, this new money gawker who otherwise would have barely become a journeyman in a closed shop built one of the first bowling alleys in the 20’s and lined the foundation with stacks of bibles that he took from a church that was being renovated. News reports at the time say he “reclaimed the good books to line the cornerstone of his hopping bowling arena on the city’s south side”.
“Iss da paypa,” said the boss, “da paypa innem bobbles what makes ‘em spatial.”
The workers at the bowling alley later went on strike, causing unrest and riots in the area. People, including children, were walking the streets pointing shotguns growling “give me a reason” to anyone within earshot. Chaos reigned as police were being routinely disrespected to their face. The entire neighborhood joined the boycott and before long they stormed the White House on a sunny day. Generous capitalists were misunderstood. What suffered most of all: human decency and the rule of law.
My orbs showed me none of it, and I still blame Edward T. Farnwick who was recently brought before the House Un-American Activities Committee where he had the denatured audacity to invoke his fifth amendment privileges! We need to send a message to congress: Repeal and replace The New Deal and PUT EDWARD T. FARNWICK IN PRISON!
Son of a gun! We are out of breath and our blood pressure is skyrocketed. We are starting to panic.
Our midnight deadline is going to come and we will fall short of our goal unless you step up. Please donate $1 now to fight communists where they start, in the home, and receive a free “Register Communists not firearms” bumper sticker now in a new extra large size that covers the entire rear window for maximum impact. Be a part of the thrill to kill the reds where they live!
This ad was brought to you by the Citizens’ Council as part of a joint venture with the John Birch Society and the Southern Baptist Convention.
Dag blasted, bowling balls are downright expensive! The union workers who manufacture bowling balls are stingy little dream killers, charging as much as twenty dollars per finger hole while they get paid to take naps when they’re not doddling around the water cooler (if they even bother showing up that day). There are five holes in a bowling ball I think and each corresponds to a single digit. By the time they do the math for you, you are paying $499.95 plus insurance for a bored out spherical rock.
Listen carefully: that does not include a carrying bag. You can’t just palm this thing while you’re out getting groceries, you need a special bag that is made by a whole other set of workers who are doing their level best to dismantle capitalism as part of an international revolution, starting with bowling and the sport of bowling I think by the looks of it anyway.
I won’t pay it. I won’t be bothering those people anymore, as my father says. I will instead be making my own. I noticed in my line of work, I go through a lot of crystal balls. I break them, they fall off the table when evil spirits visit, then between earthquakes and monster storms, plus I have a sadistic orange tabby cat who sneaks in and bats them around and, when I confront him about it, he denies all culpability. I am sure he belongs to the union, but I can never prove it. He is so aloof @#$! What secrets he hides.
I have a good store of crystal orbs that are no longer magic but they are still perfectly intact. About 10 of them are exactly the same size as a regulation bowling ball! I have stockpiled them in my crawlspaces for centuries. Imagine how lucky I feel. I also have a few leftovers that are still mostly magical give or take, and I have talked to several conjuring specialists who explained in detail how I could actually retool the ball spells specifically for the sport of bowling free of charge by simply reversing the spiritual polarity from yin to yang.
Before I go any further, I want to warn you that my experiment failed to yield quality results. Stop now before you get hurt. Drilling into a crystal ball you might as well use a sledgehammer because both render the same outcome: shards of glass jabbing your shinbone. I may have also needed something more sturdy than salad tongs to fasten the spheres to the work surface. Ultimately, I was unable to do anything except I managed to orbit several of them on the wood down at the neighborhood bowling facility only to see them blotted to pieces once they hit the pins. The glass in a crystal ball is fragile, acting brittle when smashed against things. The pins barely moved.
Even the magic balls were vexed, as if the pins themselves were built to reflect metaphysical charms in a union shop. I spoke to the former alley boss at Farnwick Bowling Arena about it, a nice retired woman, she told me that probably the pins were made by a traveling show of gypsies in the 1890’s but that she didn’t really know for sure. She also mentioned the site was originally a slaughterhouse for wayward stud bulls and the lanes themselves were made from the same boards that used to line the killing floor.
I consulted the spirits later and learned that the bowling alley designer, Edward T. Farnwick, was this staunch catholic child of 25 who inherited a windfall from an uncle who struck gold then dropped dead of shock who had no direct descendants. So, this new money gawker who otherwise would have barely become a journeyman in a closed shop built one of the first bowling alleys in the 20’s and lined the foundation with stacks of bibles that he took from a church that was being renovated. News reports at the time say he “reclaimed the good books to line the cornerstone of his hopping bowling arena on the city’s south side”.
“Iss da paypa,” said the boss, “da paypa innem bobbles what makes ‘em spatial.”
The workers at the bowling alley later went on strike, causing unrest and riots in the area. People, including children, were walking the streets pointing shotguns growling “give me a reason” to anyone within earshot. Chaos reigned as police were being routinely disrespected to their face. The entire neighborhood joined the boycott and before long they stormed the White House on a sunny day. Generous capitalists were misunderstood. What suffered most of all: human decency and the rule of law.
My orbs showed me none of it, and I still blame Edward T. Farnwick who was recently brought before the House Un-American Activities Committee where he had the denatured audacity to invoke his fifth amendment privileges! We need to send a message to congress: Repeal and replace The New Deal and PUT EDWARD T. FARNWICK IN PRISON!
Son of a gun! We are out of breath and our blood pressure is skyrocketed. We are starting to panic.
Dwight D. Eisenhower emailed you.
Richard Milhous Nixon emailed you.
George Wallace emailed you.
George McCarthy emailed you.
J. Edgar Hoover emailed you.
Barry Goldwater emailed you.
Spiro Agnew emailed you.
William F. Buckley emailed you.
Irving Kristol emailed you.
Our midnight deadline is going to come and we will fall short of our goal unless you step up. Please donate $1 now to fight communists where they start, in the home, and receive a free “Register Communists not firearms” bumper sticker now in a new extra large size that covers the entire rear window for maximum impact. Be a part of the thrill to kill the reds where they live!
This ad was brought to you by the Citizens’ Council as part of a joint venture with the John Birch Society and the Southern Baptist Convention.
Comments
Post a Comment
Now be honest.