By: Grundy Pumpett
Note from Marilyn L. Davis, Assistant Editor: We are fortunate today that our worlds have gotten smaller and we get to meet people we would not have otherwise. One such person in my life is Slug Latimer, aka, Grundy Pumpett, an active member of one of my FB writing groups.
Some of you may remember that Slug was the inspiration for Life in the Last Lane: Writing ’til I Exit. That phrase sang to me and opened up our conversations.
He finally submitted and his excellent use of Portmanteau, or combining one word or sound with another, just made me chuckortal. I know you’ll find the humor, and please be sure to try your hand in the comments with combining words.
Grundy will appreciavalue it.
Somebody Said… It’s About Thyme!
You know it – ol’ Grundy Pumpett has gobservations ’bout any subject in the looneyverse, and some that aren’t even transtated yet. Thankyou, thankew…just doin’ my job as afigmenteer, hoboin’ ’round the looneyversi. Ya ready forsome good speedree’d about time?
Need to start with a solid basicment about time so that we’re all on the same pageone. For your fewsure referenz re timefax, do this: writeover, writedown, or writeup this info.
Cagetorize it as a crutch for your inconistenent rememory. It’s a zimple little (now) time fact, oncet a tiny (then) time fact, that his-story books have divertulated tymefactuals to obfuscation.
Grundy’s gonna spot you a spit of come on sense, right here so’s yewl re-cognize it in the hereinafter. It reads distinctivoli as so, to wit: time was magnufractured to make the sun, moon, stars, and seasons show up at the right time, back when the whirled was flat and time was EZ to calicate. See how symple a splanation can be? See wut common insense delivers in a spilt second?
The fact hard: tyme was not ever, nosir, never…made for the humaniks. Tihme was concocked to drag nature into comfortaminity where harmonics ruled. They demandedsomething that would allow numbers so’s they could become sizzlelived. It is so!
What? You want datamatics and noederized avadaffits for proof? Ha! For everly, comeon scents has been my schtick -it’ll work here…again!
So, to see how tyme concockshen was obviously such cessfull, you just goat ahead and check your carlendar and tickertimer! (notchnote here…”relagardless what any humanik spouts, there exists only nine dijits, plus a “oh”!). There ya hazit, carlendar and timester in yore hanz, write at the end of your breather ports!
Your own seeing balls are eyeing the fakts – your calidner days are numbered, your tickertime is limited. Now, don’t these faxt actual just make you staggeringly gratificial!
See how simplematic come-on sense works? Ain’t hard todo! It’s that come-on sence paint color which shades my juniverse – it has pony exprzzd me to the now here I am, and I’ve enjoyed the ride. Not to minchion that, armed with such superblatives, I’m in demand, even.
So…just in time, I show up, centuries after the jumper cables of lightzing gave time a kickstart (that was a squirt of tyme, lemmetellya!), to rennoculate the hole about time that I know you posses in your feducated mined.
Andother thing about tiem: there is nothing that can, or can’t be said about time…nope, nothing…anyword, everyword, anytiem, here, thair, airywhere!
Heheheh. Eye see urint convinced about that parrygraf?… You suspicion one more of my malodorus knave exoterics, you’re thinkin’? Well, anyway…just think about that articulatory. Think, think some more…and now…more.
Nothing yet, eh? Think! Try hardlier. Now? No? OK, then…two-step on into the substantiationstation and do this test:
Gather up all, yes…all, the words that you can find (count ’em, I’ll wait), then hitch ’em to that word named…time. Apply those weirdz in any number, in any order, around, over, under, to the left, to the right, of time.
Go ahead on, I’ll just tap my foot… … … … tap … … … tappety tap …… … … … tap tap. See how that works? That my ideogeny is correct? Oh… …you’re not done yet! Be calefur with this word extersize, There’s lots of werds – it could exaust all of your time! Yeah, that tiem there…yore tyme, on your pursezonal carlendar and clocklocker.
So…never really thought that time thingy over, did ya? Did ya? Well, obviously, I had to…for a speakerati like me, that ishue gerenates what passes for coin in your realm.
Tarnslation = I get to pontiflate with ALL words, all the time, for money! See there? Simple at work again!
I hear some groanin’ out there, but, for me…it’s livin’ the looneyverse dream!
So who is the mysterious Slug Latimer? We’ll let him tell you in his own words.
My bride and I are both Colorado natives, married since 1965. We are blessed with two lovely daughters. I retired from railroading in the Rocky Mountains after thirty-six years, but also had numerous short-term job experiences since 1963.
Creative since childhood, I’ve explored a variety of artistic avenues, however, playing piano and guitar has been the constant. Now, after a continuous round of pleasure for seventy-five years, I find satisfaction with writing. Silly, off the wall humor that elicits laughter is easy writing for me at the moment, but I do have some “heavies’ simmering over the campfire.