Miscellany - A Funk for 2014

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader felt the urge to blog. So here he is. Does he have anything to write about? Does he have a cogent thought that needs to be broadcast into the ether?

No. He doesn’t.

So far 2014 is tiring. Your Maximum Leader isn’t exactly sure why, but he has a theory on why. He hasn’t been sleeping well. He’s be waking about 3:30 every morning for a week. Sometimes he’s able to get back to sleep. Other times he’s not. So that means that come 8-9pm he is really beginning to drag and feels like he needs to go to bed.

Is it aging? Could be. Is there unusual stress in his life? No, nothing out of the ordinary.

Humm… He doesn’t really know what is up. Perhaps it is seasonal.

Basically he has lots of pet theories that he’s not interested in testing…

Your Maximum Leader has been more fixated in the past few weeks with sensory experiences. Basic things. He’s been fixated on the taste of things. He’s been cooking lots of good stuff and he’s been very conscious of how it is smells and tastes. Not as much on the looks of his food. The other day he doctored up some leftovers. The plate was a mess but did it smell and taste great.

He’s also been very concerned about his own smell. Strange isn’t it? Your Maximum Leader bathes quite regularly and is, like most Americans, rather scent neutral. Of late your Maximum Leader has been using his regular soap (the absolutely fabulous Oval Soaps by Fresh) while bathing; but has been often washing his hands using some great hand-soap he was gifted. The hand-soap, and a bottle of lotion that came with it, were a very generous gift from relatives just returned from Britain. The hand-soap is Quercus by Penhaligon’s of London. The Royal Warrant on the bottle should be a clue that the stuff is pricey but good. At $30 for a 300ML bottle it is probably not going to be a regular staple of your Maximum Leader’s toiletries; but he’d like it to be. The stuff is so good that he is going to seek out the local Penhaligon’s dealer in DC and actually consider buying some Eau de Toilette of a scent that jumps out at him. He doubts he’ll go through with this little plan due to the cost of the stuff ($125 a bottle!!!). Indeed the very fact that he is considering doing this is rather shocking to him.

Perhaps it is all part of this odd funk he is in. (Emotional funk. Not odoriferous funk certainly; if anything your Maximum Leader smells fantastic.)

There isn’t much else to comment upon. At least not much that is leaping to his mind. Your Maximum Leader is going to have to make some meat sauce for dinner in a little bit. The kids wanted spaghetti with meat sauce for dinner and your Maximum Leader was happy to oblige them. He is debating with himself if he’ll make meatballs or just put the meat straight into the sauce. He’ll likely take the easy way out and put the meat in the sauce.

Anyhoo…

Your Maximum Leader will start cooking now.

He may be back later today… Or not…

Carry on.

Follow your Maximum Leader on Twitter: @maximumleader

3 Comments »

Meatballs are not only problematic in terms of table etiquette (especially among teh younglings), they’re also elitist and probably Ingredio-phobic: Instead of accepting, embracing and immersing in the diversity of teh other ingredients, they ball up into blinkered little enclaves of exclusivity, rejecting The Other.

How can we condone such Hate?

I say, brown the meat up, chuck it into teh sauce and tell it to broaden its horizons.



Meat was browned and thrown into the sauce.

I will make note of your meatball analogy and will not look at them the same ever again.



Haggis McHaggis said:

To assist in yer slumber…Rabbis day is soon here!

Ode Tae A Fart

Oh what a sleekit horrible beastie
Lurks in yer belly efter the feastie
As ye sit doon amongst yer kin
There sterts tae stir an enormous win’

The neeps an’ tatties an’ mushy peas
Stert workin’ like a gentle breeze
But soon the puddin’ wi’ the sonsie face
Will have ye blawin’ a’ ower the place.

Nae matter whit the hell ye dae
A’body’s gonnae hae tae pay
Even if ye try tae stifle
It’s like a bullet oot o’ a rifle

Haud yer bum tight tae the chair
Tae try an’ stop the leakin’ air
Shift yersel fae cheek tae cheek
Pray tae God it disnae reek.

But aw yer efforts gan asunder
Oot it comes like a clap o’ thunder
Ricochets aroon’ the room
Michty me! A sonic boom

God Almichty, it fairly reeks!
Hope I huvnae s**t ma breeks!
Tae the bog ah’d better scurry,
Ach, whit the hell, it’s no ma worry.

A’body roon aboot me chokin’
Yin or twa were nearly boakin’
I’ll feel better for a while
Cannae help but raise a smile.

Wis him! I shout with accusin’ glower,
Alas! Too late! He’s just keeled ower
Ye dirty bugger, they shout and stare
A didnae feel welcome ony mair

Where e’r ye be let yer wind gan free
Sounds like just the job for me
Whit a fuss at Rabbie’s party
Ower the sake o’ one wee farty.



Leave a Comment!

Please note: Comments may be moderated. It may take a while for them to show on the page.

Back To Main

    About Naked Villainy

    • maxldr

    Villainous
    Contacts

    • E-mail your villainous leader:
      "maxldr-blog"-at-yahoo-dot-com or
      "maximumleader"-at-nakedvillainy-dot-com

    • Follow us on Twitter:
      at-maximumleader

    • No really follow on
      Twitter. I tweet a lot.

Naked Villainy… We supply the K-Y.

    Villainous Commerce

    Villainous Sponsors

      • Get your link here.

      Villainous Search