August 9, 2007Any child who cannot do long division by himself does not deserve to smoke.
PERSIFLAGE is updated on Thursdays. ClassifiedsFor sale: trick pencils; whenever you try to write the word "butterscotch" they write the word "vanilla". Great for parties! $4 per dozen. Box 2H.
Tips for Summer Living:Tip #8:  The sun is much, much hotter during the summer months. Don't touch it. ArchivesLinksLife feel empty? Get added to our email list. Send us an email at persiflagemag@hotmail.com and write "Add me to your email list, you jerks" in the subject line. |
Turned On By the RadioDillard Pernhop, or DJ Pickle as he was known to his fans, was Western Canada's greatest radio DJ. A few years ago at a not very interesting house party he had been fiddling with the dial on the hi-fi when he "stumbled" across a series of great tunes that everyone dug. It was inevitable that he would turn this gift into a high-paying career. Soon Dillard was playing in clubs (well actually it was a church basement) and had his very own show on the university radio station. Not only that but he was now recieving far more attention from the "ladies". Dillard had never had much luck with girls. He had always been a little awkward socially and, to be honest, a tad funny looking but now that he was a semi-renowned minor local celebrity he found that women (some women) seemed to find him, if not fascinating, at least mildly diverting. This level of success was way beyond his wildest dreams. Sometimes he had two dates in a month! One night coming home late (it was after 11) after a particularly successful rave Dillard, feeling the effects of all the iced tea he had consumed, stopped to empty his bladder into a hedge. He carefully placed his protable radio on the sidewalk beside him while he tended to his business. Unfortunately for the erstwhile DJ he did not notice that he had been shadowed for some blocks by a malevolent Golden Retriever who went by the name of Shep. When Dillard put down his boombox Shep saw his chance, bounding forward he seized the carrying handle of the ghetto blaster in his hairy jaws and hightailed it (literally) into the park. DJ Pickle stuffed his back into his cargo pants and took off in hot pursuit. Unfortunately his bladder was not quite empty and continued to drain as Dillard loped after the much speedier Shep. It soon became obvious to the sodden secondhand songster that his radio was gone forever. Dillard Pernhop ceased his chase after the Retriever and his radio. He stood alone in the middle of the darkened park. Soon his cheeks were as wet as his pants as he realised that his days of popularity were over. C.F. Maynard |
Altered LyricsDoe, a name, a generic name used for unidentified corpses Anonymous Once again we seem to have extra space this week. We should really think about renting out these little spaces. Make some extra money. You know for coffees and whatnot. |