A Succintly Surrendered Sociological Survey of the Holocene

May 2008
..... Or, A Spiritual Ayes D Catastrophic Triad Reconverted

[This being an harmonic Play in five alive (O) Acts with multiple string beany characters conversing togetherwise interpenetratively in such fashion as appeareth at times a gabbling feast of festive crows gully acting o'oer a brootherin broth o brane shtalks (mind yezzer P's D' & Q's)]

Dramatis Personae ~ To be (or not to be) Ann A Nano Ounced (measuredly, assuredly synthom-ma-thetically) in da dew curse O' thyme.

Act the First

Sayin i

Dirt The Harbourmaster - "As a kind friend thrice kindled once earmarked there are scarcely no sindistinct junctures Toby traversed when engaged in this Hobbit-fantastical buzz buy busyness of re-appreciating the Holocene in all its non-geographical imp row pry @ tory eel messy nessy knees. For tis tolled as Adam begat the dappled dewed dawn [amidst munchin moon craythurs furtively slip-slidin a-weighs a weigh]all ta wile in a crowning drowning proud awning smile, sea-ribboned Eve (legs minxed leisurely, cuffed Kafka afreet freely ormorphously)up 'n' harked the merry be-asters wiv cry luminous periblasters: "Nevahe!, Nevah!, Nevahoo!" - Untill at the salty Capituline hill a rí rá rhodomontade (a trad in Tara's tirade) wuz maid, so shtirring be Annie, so cure in, be Danny, so tearsome be Fanny. a washed a whacked a whicky Loquithor".

Annie - "O cursed lamps o leathery lanes lolling loughed lobrewcurshly till fin's fiery firin flintin fits upcauls the mammo aster from me capacious capadocean compactidness : why aye eye did ye halve to day? String beanies for make fast, aye seize em all. For Annie's (mise en..) (a) Louvre again. Thunderin Thorworlds and Underin Whorlwards me blieudy baddy boddy tis aerywier. All's fairs an squares me puts them there; hoop ta hoop, loop da loop, nay makes no nanny difference nohow fur re-stake linn crack linn purr poises .... OOosuffer Cram Us!! Souls betold as old as the hold double ewe crunch."

Lourve and rearguards,


Rosey (the cow) - Now quare old Rosey was by far the most joynormous (& most gorgeous!) animal in the whole timetold untilled field which grew bigger and bigger each year, expanding so exponentially in fact, as the farmer, Mr. Brown, (pronounced brewin in your local twang)was remiss enough to allow it grow out beyond its 'natural' borders even so far as to drown out Mrs. Brewin's prize Azaleas on one end and cabbage patch on the other, for which matter we may be sure there was no end of tizzying ructions and general marital discord.
This was the north and south of the matter but east and west lay a different complexion for here the wild roots, weeds and wacky rhododendrons spilt out into neighbouring fields belonging, in the east, to a Mr. Forfeit, a short-tempered, perfectionist, "quality surveillance officer" (so we're told), and in the west, to Miss Adamanthine Amorosa, a kindly benefactress, who had long nurtured an enormous stake in the well-being of the whole county, not least in the welfare of the Brewin's, whose land was gratefully held under her generous grace on a soon to be renewed 15 year lease ~ for which kind gesture the Brewin's had named their only heifer (Rosey) in her honour. Such were the precarious domestic, ethical, ecological and legal issues surrounding the expansion of 'Mountain Meadow' - the familiar name of Rosey's own true home. "O feel, aye a ..." (rumbling in the ecology) thought Rosey, as she gazed out at dawn at the sun-kissed dew-dappled grasses held together everywhere by the arching frames of countless millions upon millions of shining silk-laced cobwebs dancing in the morning breeze.

[anon to bay con thin yewed anne tissued (sniff me trough lumpied n' grathered)]

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