PUBISTAN WRITERS SUPPORT CAMPAIGN TO REVIVE INSOLENT RUDDER

COMMUNIQUE FROM COLLECTIVE OF WRITERS OF THE PUBISH TO THE GREAT INQUISITOR ON INNER NET:

My Dear!

Please release great comrade and eternal friend of Pubish revolution, Tim Ljunggren, to continue on the paths - revolutionary, economic, social, five year orientated and promulgated through institutional instruments of rehabilitation - to the glory of the worldwide creative thrust!

Thank you!

We kiss you!

But not your ass!

Verdimita "Steve" Ripyorebollokov

PS Is me, Maxim. Ha! Pull finger out, Tim. Let sun shine in!

You remember this below?


NOTES FROM PUBISTAN PART 3 – by Maxim Ripyorebollokov
Translated by Stewart Sumner

Dear readers, it is me again, Maxim Ripyorebollokov, the future of literature in the unfree world! Greetings to you all! As I squeeze the final drops of fervent dew from the horn of the affair with Larissa, Miss Pube 2007, a vegetarian, I thus seek the ultimate clarity (Trans – the Pubish word for red wine and lucidity are the same – klarkost. It is unclear what Maxim means to convey here). But where to find clarity? To shout loudly from the tree branch? To shudder in front of farmyard animal traffic? To pluck hair from a rabbit till the bladder is on display? “Drink to thine clarity”, the great Pubish poet Dmitri Ripyorebollokov – no relation – proclaimed as night was drawing in over State Rabbit Farm 6.5 one hoary night post-Revolution (Trans – you’re on your own here, the meaning is all but lost on a non-Pube).

O Sweet clarity, come forth to me. Show yourself, if thou’st dare. I was deep in thoughtfulness at the office yesterday when I was approached from behind by the man they call Spider. Officially, he is chief of quality control and a fine sculptor, which is a amplitudinous shame since sculpture was banned in the Second Decree of the Post-Revolution Phase of Our Great Revolution. So Spider – genuine name Richard but Spider since he is full of mischief and malice and crawls rather than walks. Also, he is deceptively quick to pounce. “So,” I said, “Spider, you are here!” “Yes,” Spider said, “I am. I have recipe for rabbit cake. You want?” I suspected a trap. “Yes, all right, Spider. Please.” Ha! He gave me no recipe, just the price to pay for such top secret information. You know, the last time rabbit cake was made in Pubistan was in the cruel, foreboding, winter of ’76. That was when we still had an abundance of cream. For your intrigue, now a bowl of imported cream cost 2 Pubes on blackest market. That is roughly 10 million of your American dollars! So anyway, I watched intently Spider with his hairy legs as he slowly crawled back to his darkened corner by the trap door to the exit used for employees who have displeased the furtherance of the glorious State of Pubistan in some despicable way. Sometimes, it is possible to believe Spider is indeed a spider and that it is my self-deception which maintains him to be a human being, but that way madness lies, and the trap door.

What does Spider want in life? What can he hope for? Will he fall through the trap door before he has realised his dream of assembling the greatest collection of octopedes the world outside Pubistan has never seen? Despite the fact that he is truly creepy and smells like a rabbit’s genitals after a prolonged session of heightened activity, I wish him only happiness and a resolution of his mother’s gender reassignment issues.

But sorry. Really. Where is the literature? You ask. I present you with two paragraphs of my novel, which unfortunately, do not follow sequentially, consequentially or even logically from what has gone before. You like? There is hope.

Night fell. The burrowing began. He stretched his arm out. The hand was not there. Just the newspaper with no news and the walking stick with no handle. They would find him. Soon. The trail of imported peanut butter would lead them to his resting place. His movements were slight. More twitching than calculated. The in-tray of despair mounted ever higher.

Were you gripped? And this paragraph. I think this might be the end. We shall see. Forgive me, for it is short.

The words tumbled. The wind blew. The extremely happy rabbit clucked. A pause. A heartbeat. Silence.

Oh, joy extended beyond, my friends. The literary journey continues. I must extinguish the candle now and think of Marsha, Miss Pube 2008, a carnivore. She could partake of my meat any day.

Long live The Pubish Writers Union!

Hail words together! May they never be parted!

I kiss you!

Maxim

MAXIM & UDDERS ON INSOLENT RUDDER

BIRD: Shameful self-emulation, I know, but have you heard about Maxim Ripyorebollokov's Notes From Pubistan in the excellent mag Insolent Rudder at http://www.insolentrudder.net?

BUFFALO: Birdy, you know what happens when you introduce a character within a character.

BIRD: Dude, it's not me. Not the REAL me. And Maxim's a pal. In need.

BUFFALO: Now hold on there, buddy. Am I talking to you, Maxim, or Stu?

BIRD: Eh? Me, natch. Why'd you ask?

BUFFALO: Cos I just don't know any more. And what's the deal with the editor of Insolent Rudder at http://www.insolentrudder.net? This Tim Ljunggren dude... Isn't he the Sage of Sweden?

BIRD: Is he? Who told you that?

BUFFALO: You did, you plank!

BIRD: Oh. You know, I really don't know. I mean, I've parleyed with him on Skype and all and NOTHING he said led me to believe he's in any way a Swede-oh.

BUFFALO: Tim Ljunggren?

BIRD: No, dude! The Sage of Sweden!

BUFFALO: Jeez, Birdman. I feel like I don't know my ass from my Freddy these daze. Wikkid zine, though, dude. Some seriously cool stories and those cartoons... Marja Hagborg is AWESOME!

BIRD: You better believe it.

BUFFALO: So anyhoo, wot's this Insolent Rudder at http://www.insolentrudder.net all about, like?

BIRD: It's about deviating, turning moments.

BUFFALO: Excuse me?

BIRD: If you were a boat, you'd have an insolent rudder at http://www.insolentrudder.net steering you off the chartered course and being uppity about it too...

BUFFALO: Hey, I like dat!

BIRD: Spread the word.

BUFFALO: Sure will. And Maxim Ripyorebollokov... he doesn't really work as an innards consultant at State Rabbit Farm 69, duzee?

BIRD: Who knows? Maybe he's not even a writer.

BUFFALO: Yeah, dat figures.

BIRD: Laters.

BUFFALO: Yo!

(telephone rings)

BUFFALO: Captain Nemo, you say? Sure, put him through...

MUCUS EXTRACTION BANNED IN PUBISTAN

Yes, it's true, my freedom loving, tub thumping, freestyle humping chums! The People's Democratic Republic of Pubistan has just passed a law to ban making the picking of one's nose in public places an offence as of June 1st 2007. This inhuman, highly provocative and ultimately self-implosive act will prevent anyone over the age of two years of age with or without a runny nose from dealing appropriately with the offending snotpiece. It will also mean, since all vehicles and barns, sheds, garages, greenhouses and outside toilets have been designated as public areas, that any citizen caught in the aforementioned structures partaking of a bit of picky wicky of the honourable bogey will be liable to the maximum punishments under the law, which are as follows:

For the first offence: the nose shall be knitted together by needle and thread for a period of no more than ten years, and no less than nine years, eleven months and 30 days.

For the second offence: one or both nostrils shall be removed with the use of malnourished wild hogs specially bred for the procedure.

For the third offence: the nose shall be removed altogether with the use of the Pubistan all-in-one snothole slicer (patent pending).

For the fourth offence: the offender shall be cast out of his/her community, have heavy shackles attached to his/her legs and at the count of three be thrown into the Black Lagoon at midnight on the first day of the month and left to rot for ten calendar days.

For the fifth offence: the perpetrator will be unceremoniously fed to the rabbits of State Farm Number 16 and his/her entrails made into bargain rabbit burgers for the international market.

Stop the snot haters now! Write to your local MP, Member of the House of Representatives and Senate, the Mayor, the butcher, the baker, the chemist, the dressmaker, the stall holder, the handyman, the beach babe, the inventor of the iPod or digg or Joost or YouTube, or Technorati even and ROLL A BOGEY TODAY ON INTERNATIONAL PICK YOUR SNOT WITH PRIDE DAY ON JUNE 1st 2007 in solidarity with our brothers and sisters in Pubistan whose nasal passages and quiet moments of contemplation in front of family, friends and selected pets will be ruined forever if we do not act NOW!

TO PLEDGE YOUR FULL SUPPORT FOR SAFEGUARDING THE EXTRACTION OF MUCUS IN PUBISTAN & THROUGHOUT THE WORLD - JEEZ THEY'LL BE BANNING SMOKING & CREAM CAKES WITH CHERRIES ON TOP NEXT!!! - PLEASE EMAIL keeppickingsnotfree@SNOT4ALL.com

Thank you, good night and may your nostrils go with you.

AN OFFER YOU CAN'T REFUSE...AND SO SAY ALL OF US

BIRD: Hello?

KINNEY DALLIS: Hi there! My name Kinney Dallis!

BIRD: But I don't know any Kinneys.

KINNEY DALLIS: Thank you for your loan request, which we recieved yesterday, your refinance application has been accepted Good Credit or Not,

BIRD: Eh?

KINNEY DALLIS: We are ready to give you a $390,000 loan, after further review, our lenders have established the lowest monthly payments. Approval process will take only 1 minute.
Please visit the confirmation link below and fill-out our short 30 second Secure Web-Form.

www.iamadumbfuckwillingtoloseeverythingthendie.com/


BIRD: Er, thanks, but no, thanks.

KINNEY DALLIS: You're welcome.

BIRD: Don't ya just love spam? Now lemme just click on this baby here... Urgh yahhhhk! More rabbit porn. I tell ya, dude. Pubistan must be stopped.

BUFFALO: Yeah. It's giving good honest clean darty porn a bad name.

BIRD: Exactly.

BUFFALO: Wait, dude. Kinney Dallis is a goddamn rabbit?

BIRD: Hey, sorry, dude. I clicked on the wrong link. I went to www.iamadumbfuckwhowillclickonanythingthendie.com/

BUFFALO: You too, huh? Must stop doing that.

BIRD: A cautionary tale for all our fans, if ever there was one.

BUFFALO: Yer right there, my avian chum.

BIRD: O shite on a tricycle! Now I can't close the window down.

BUFFALO: Reboot.

BIRD: Bollax on a sandwich. Rebooting now. What the...

BUFFALO: What's that, dude?

BIRD: Pop ups. Nothing but pop ups with dollar signs and boobs and rabbits' bits and... Oh, I don't believe it!

BUFFALO: Dude, you're scaring me! Are you OK?

BIRD: A new e-mail has flashed up. Listen to this:

THE LOTTERY DEPARTMENT
UK.22 Garden Close,
PE9 2YP, London

REF Nº:UKNL-L/200-26937BATCH Nº:14/0017/1PD

Dear Winner!

This is to inform you that you have been selected for a cash prize of £1,000,000.00 (British Pounds) held on the 1St of February 2007 inLondon Uk. The selection process was carried out through randomselection in our computerized email selection system(ess) from adatabase of over 250,000 email addresses drawn from which you were selected. The BRITISH UK. Lottery is approved by the British Gaming Board. To begin the processing of your prize you are to contact our fiduaciary claims department for more infomation as regards procedures to claimyour prize. Contact your fiduciary agent below for claims process. Name: Mr Shedrack Harrison .Phone # : +44-702-405-4092

Is nowhere safe?

BUFFALO: Dunno, dude. Sounds kinda plausible. Maybe you should phone.

BIRD: Are you serious?

BUFFALO: Could've won a lorra money.

BIRD: No way, dude. No. No. No.

BUFFALO: Do it.

BIRD: No.

BUFFALO: Go on.

BIRD: No!

BUFFALO: I knew a Shedrack once. Nice kid. Skinny. Pointy ears. Bit of a lisp. Ring him.

BIRD: Oh, OK, then. Film at eleven.

BUFFALO: Arf, arf! Omigod! Wot have I done. I woz only havin' a laff. Like.