Kooka, Kə-pēsh?


I’ll Bite Nearly Anything – If It Dangles Close Enough To My Pearly Grill – And Surrender To The Occasional Notion … That The Blogosphere Will Survive Nicely With Or Without My Acrimonious-cum-Sanctimonious-cum-Unctuous Offerings.

Though It’s Not Nearly Enough To Convince Either Of My Polarizing Alter Egos – Uppity Me Or My Shameless Self – That A Few Ripe Chapters Of Kookaburra Me Shouldn’t Find A Tidy Domicile On Kuched In The Coming Weeks.

Capisce – Kə-pēsh – Capeesh.

“So, What The Frangipane Is Kookaburra Me?”


Um, Self Love Story … About A Guy Once Named Kookaburra Who Fell In-And-Out Of Love With Himself – Featuring Me As The Protagonist And Myself As The Antagonistic Self-Love Interest – And How The Tribe Of Adorable Infidels (Friends) And Relative Strangers (Family) That Adopted Held Me Captive Since Birth.

My Beautiful Gripe Is Not For Everyone Or Perhaps, Anyone – It’s Raw In The Worst Way, Like Tainted Oysters … Spoiled Sashimi … Undercooked Marrow … With Ribbons Of Bloody Crimson Oozing Heme In The Middle (I’m Looking At You, Beetroot Juice Of Beyond Impossible Why Bother? Burger Boys).

For Show-Offitty Bragging Rights, I Say A Couple Of Fancy Words-Of-Profanity; Probably Less Than 9 Out Of An Estimated 70,000 Personally Curated Words.

It’s Predictably Bloated With Hyperbolic Cryptic Nonsensible Dung, Showcasing My Devotion To Writing Non-Linear Umbrage.


About Reading Boring Shit – 8 Left – Because I’d Never Do That To The Reader.

And, It’s Free … Except For The Part About The Mess Weighing On Your Conscience After Its Through With The Mind Fuck Fornication – 7 More – You’ll See.

Evidently, The Presser Of Words – Our Humble Blog Host … Dubya Pea – Has Advised I Need To Ante Up A Mittful Of Shekels Again For The Annual Frustration Fest Of Using Their Premium Service Subscription, Or They’re Kaputting Kuched On Ice …

Depending On The Calendar Used, The Upcoming Year Is Either My 3rd Or 4th Or 5th As A Blogger – The Math Is Complicated Because Kuched Isn’t My First Row-Day-Oh.


Because I Spent The Worst Year Of My Blessed Life Drafting And Saving About 300 Posticles – Enslaved To A Daily Word Fetish – Which I Later Fleshed Out Into More Mind-Numbing, Cranial Rot, And Eventually Smacked The Publish Button On Kuched.

If I Did The Math The Way The Universe Intended, It’s Year 4 Starting On November 23, Not Including A Previous Spell Of Writing A Nefarious Blog For A Secret Society. No, It’s Not The Freemasons Or The Freeoprahs Or Skull And Bones Or The Illuminati Or Fans Of The Dave Matthews Band.

Okay, Its The Loyal Order Of The Gumby & Pokey, Butt’cha Ditten ‘Ear It ‘Ere.

I’m Back To Semi-Maybe Posting. It Seems To Always Never Work For Me.

Image by Peter Wolf from Pixabay

7 thoughts on “Kooka, Kə-pēsh?

  1. Writer of Words, etc

    Let’s see if I can explain this mood of yours by carefully deciphering your flood of urban-dictionaired words: tormented? anguished? vexed?

    Take it easy with the words there, Michael A. 🙂

    So if I’m understanding this correctly, there will be quasi-regular Kuched posts coming once again. The WordPress Gods have hooked you for another year.


    Liked by 2 people

  2. ashleyleia

    I think the universe is probably too busy creating black holes (and all kinds of other fancy stuff we don’t understand) to care about silly human math. Any time the old school ice cream truck drives by, the kids will be happy to see it.

    Liked by 2 people

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