usVerse: The Unfinished Sentence-Verse #1-9

Arthur Spitzer arspitzer at
Mon Dec 4 20:21:00 PST 2006

Sorry about that.. bad idea to copy stuff
straight from google news....

Hopefully this one is readable....

From: Arthur Spitzer <arspitzer at>
Subject: [usVerse] The Unfinished Sentence-Verse #1
Newsgroups: rec.arts.comics.creative
Date: Sat,  6 May 2006 15:42:52 -0700 (PDT)

The Unfinished Sentence-Verse #1

The man woke up.  Strange, he thought to himself.  Where am I?  Who am I?

He was on a raft.  A raft in the middle of the Ocean.  And there were people
with him.  People and creatures.  One of the creatures was this gila monster
wearing a Viking Cap.  Another looked like a robot with a cowboy hat.  There
was a cute red-headed nun sitting next to the robot.  And sitting next to
her was some very wrinkled old lady wearing a red bikini smoking a cigar.

"Who are you people?  Why am I here?  I can't remember anything.  Not even
my name!"

"Well, look who's awake."  The old lady took the cigar out of her mouth
briefly.  "As to where we are, well, none of us know either.  We all have
amnesia too."

"I don't understand.  How can we all have amnesia?" the man said as he
looked closer at his surroundings.

But before anyone could answer that question, the raft started to...

To be continued by anyone who feels like it...

Arthur "Unfini..." Spitzer

From: "Adrian James McClure" <lord_soldeed at>
Subject: Re: [usVerse] The Unfinished Sentence-Verse #1
Newsgroups: rec.arts.comics.creative
Date: Sat,  6 May 2006 16:53:47 -0700 (PDT)

The Unfinished Sentence-Verse #2

But before anyone could answer that question, the raft started to curse
incoherently in Spanish.  "Why is it doing that?" said the anonymous

"I don't know," said the creepy old lady.  "It's been doing that all
the time since I woke up."

"Puta lagarto!" said the raft.  "Mis pantalones estan comidos por emus
de mierda!"

"You know," said the protagonist, "this whole situation seems very
profound somehow.  This must be some kind of profound mystery with deep
metaphysical overtones that must gradually be pieced together.  Or
maybe this is all an elaborate allegory. I represent the average
everyman, searching for his own identity, surrounded by a hostile
society.  The old woman represents Americans' desire for youth and
inability to accept their own mortality.  The nun represents organized
religion.  The robot with a cowboy hat represents the working class.
The gila monster with a viking helmet represents, er, science fiction
fandom.  And the raft represents illegal immigrants."

"You have to be an academic," said the nun, who had a light Irish

"Why is that?"

"Because that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"See!  Organized religion is always hostile to intellectual activity!"

Suddenly, Jeph Loeb was brought in as a writer in this series to
increase its sales.  A giant robot which looks exactly like the
Composite Ultimate Ninja flew in and blasted the protagonist's head
off.  "Hey!" said the severed head of the protagonist.  "That hurts!"

The robot's chest opened to reveal...

Adrian "and yes, I'm aware there is no Composite Ultimate Ninja" McClure

From: "Tom Russell" <milos_parker at>
Subject: Re: [usVerse} The Unfinished Sentence-Verse #1
Newsgroups: rec.arts.comics.creative
Date: Sat,  6 May 2006 19:09:15 -0700 (PDT)

The Unfinished Sentence-Verse # 3

The robot's chest opened to reveal a hand, upon which sat an old
Courier and Ives plate (a young couple mushing their horse-drawn
carriage through an idyllic winter wonderland) that held the crimpled
remains of a faded blue pastel muffin wrapper, sans muffin: all that
remained of it were a few neglected crumbs, tasty blueberry orphans
(and that's if the muffin was a blueberry one, or, for that matter, if
it was a muffin at all: it very well could have been a cupcake and not
a muffin, and if it was a cupcake, did that mean that the existence of
its piecemeal survivors was any sweeter, that their fate was any less
dire-- and what kind of frosting once adorned its light, fluffy top;
oh, never mind, it was a muffin after all) torn from their family by a
masticating holocaust, only to be devoured in one fell slurp by cruel
fate in a viking helmet (and if that viking-hatted Gila monster could
speak the language of man, and if he was a conossuier of fine foods
able to tell the difference between a muffin and its sweet sinful
barely-legal and more attractive younger sister the cupcake, then that
Gila monster could settle, once and for all, whether or not it was a
muffin or a cupcake that he did devour the last few measly crumbs of),
much to the surprise and astonishment of the robot, who did weep
copious tears; water and electricity do not mix, and so that robotic
behemoth of everything Loebian (for, as the discerning reader should
discern with no discernable difficultly, Jeph "I can't write Batman
correctly but I sure can resurrect Jason Fucking Todd with the best of
them" Loeb has been jettisoned, only to be readily replaced by the
once-thought dead Marcel "I can write thirty pages about how I fall to
sleep" Proust and his magical motherfucking tea cup and piece of
madeleine-- and whatever happened to i before e except after c; Maddie,
as usual, provides a welcome exception) found his flight capabilities
quite diminished and sank to the ocean, destined to rust forever as it
pondered the fate of the crumbs it had played Papa Varian to for a few
brief lovely moments: the end of a life is, as always, bittersweet.
The gila monster licks his

From: "Adrian James McClure" <lord_soldeed at>
Subject: Re: [usVerse] The Unfinished Sentence-Verse #1
Newsgroups: rec.arts.comics.creative
Date: Sun,  7 May 2006 10:16:28 -0700 (PDT)

The Unfinished Sentence-Verse #4

The gila monster licks his (that is, the long-unmentioned
protagonist's) bones as his head, lamenting deeply over the loss of its
beloved body, weeps bitterly, but just as he the gila monster is about
to launch into an elaborate reminiscience of how the exquisite taste of
the protagonist's corpse (another subtle reference to high culture!)
reminds him of his childhood in the lost city of atomic vikings,
hopefully with less errors than the last time (for in fact Jeph Loeb is
not the same person as Judd Winick, who brought Jason Todd back from
the dead and is in fact a worse writer, as frightening as it may be)
when Proust is suddenly shot in the back!  "I've had enough of your
girly writing style," says the mysterious newcomer.  Proust turns
around and finds to his horror that it's...

"The cybernetic disembodied head of Ernest Hemingway attached to the
body of a gorilla!  But it cannot be!  After you attempted to help
Pointless Awards Man IV take over the multiverse in the LNH cascade
'Just Imagine Saxon Brenton Presents the RACCies... Again!' you were
imprisoned in the center of the universe by the Anonymous Anglo-Saxon
Alliterative Poet Corps!"  Remembering this cascade then leads Proust
to reminisce bittersweetly about the halcyon days of a few months ago
as Cyborg Gorilla Hemingway blasts him full of bullets.

"There," said Cyborg Gorilla Hemingway, "now we can have some real
writing with simple declarative sentences!"  But just as Cyborg Gorilla
Hemingway is about to sit down and write, a cloaked figure enters the
room.  "Aroint thee, thou qualling bat-fowling canker-blossom!  Or face
the wrath of..."  The figure removes his cloak, revealing...  "William
Shakespeare!"  Shakespeare pulls out his...

From: "Tom Russell" <milos_parker at>
Subject: usVerse: The Unfinished Sentence-Verse # 5
Newsgroups: rec.arts.comics.creative
Date: Thu, 11 May 2006 06:45:36 -0700 (PDT)


Shakespeare pulls out his Rutabaga of Doom and looks you steadily in
the eye.  "You must now come with me," he says.

Cyborg Gorilla Hemingway cuts him off.  "No!  You have to come with

"Thou art as untrustworthy as..."

Cyborg Gorilla Hemingway cuts him off again, grabbing you urgently by
the shoulders.  "Don't trust him!  He'll kill you all!"

"What should we do?" says the nun, turning to you.  "Do we trust
Shakespeare or Hemingway?"




# 13!


From: Arthur Spitzer <arspitzer at>
Subject: Re: usVerse: The Unfinished Sentence-Verse # 5
Newsgroups: rec.arts.comics.creative
Date: Fri, 12 May 2006 17:01:23 -0700 (PDT)

it's where all the action is!


'D is for Disco Viking Gila Monster 70's Flashback Issue'

The 1970s...

It was a dark and funky night.  The Village People's song 'Macho Man' played
in the background.  People were getting ready to boogie down.  And then he
came in.  He wore bell bottoms and a polyster shirt.  He had a gold chain
necklace and some mood rings.  And -- he was a gila monster.

"Whohh!" said a girl named Rhonda wearing a roller derby costume.  "Who's
Mr. Smooth with the horny helmet?  He's giving me a Saturday Night Fever!"

"That, Sweet Cheeks, is Dr. Dance Magic himself," said the bartender named
Larry.  "He's the Baron of Boogie.  There ain't no one alive that can match
him on the dance floor."

"He's So Dreamy!"

"You can say that again.  But I got to warn you if you're alone with him for
just one sec he'll eat you alive!"

"Mmm.  Sounds like my kind of man!"

"You can say that again."

Suddenly without warning a voice thundered in the room. "Gobble! Gobble!

"Oh shit!  Not him!" Larry the bartender quickly put the glass that he was
filling down.  Someone had entered the Dance Studio.  A turkey.  A turkey
with a pimp hat!

"Damn, it's Dr. Dance Magic's greatest arch-enemy: Jive the Pimp Turkey!
And Jive's Go-Go-Hoes are with him!"  Larry said pointed to the gang of
ladies surrounding the turkey with the pimp cane.  "There's going to be a
Disco Duel!"

Suddenly the Bee Gee song, 'Staying Alive' started to pound away from the
speakers.  The gila monster with the viking helmet pointed to the sky like
John Travolta and did a twirl.  Multi-Colored lights flickered through the

The Boogie Showdown of all Boogie Showdown had begun.  Everyone just stopped
what they were doing and stared as the Two Disco Titan's feet did battle on
the dance floor.

"Something's Wrong!" Rhonda said after a few minutes.  "Dr. Dance Magic is
losing it!  Jive the Pimp Turkey is just too good!  Dr. Dance Magic is being
out boogied!  I think he's given up.  He's just standing there on the dance
floor -- No wait!  He's got something.  It's a -- A broadsword!  He's going

There was a blood curdling scream.  Jive the Pimp Turkey's head lay in the
middle of the floor in a pool of blood.

"God!" Rhonda's face was full of horror.  "What's he doing!?  What's he
doing to that turkey!?"

"Must be dinner time," Larry replied.  "Told you, Sweet Cheeks.  He'll eat
you alive unless you're dead then he'll eat you dead."

End of 70's Flashback...

The gila monster with the viking helmet's mind returned to the present.  He
looked at the raft he was floating on full of stranger.  He decided that he

Arthur "Afternoon Delight" Spitzer

From: "Tom Russell" <milos_parker at>
Subject: Re: usVerse: The Unfinished Sentence-Verse # 7
Newsgroups: rec.arts.comics.creative
Date: Wed, 24 May 2006 08:32:03 -0700 (PDT)


He decided that he would have to be careful about when he indulged in a
meaningful flashback.  In the interim between the start of the
flashback and its sweet, luscious end, the others had apparently made
the important decision between Cyborg Gorilla Hemingway and Shakespeare
without him.

"Forsooth!" said Shakespeare after a trans-dimensional portal had
swallowed the raft, "Bwahahahaheehoha!"

"That's not true iambic pentameter!" said the old woman clad in bikini
and weilding cigar.  "Which means... you're not really Shakespeare!"

"You may have found me out," snarled the faux bard of avon, "but it is
too late now!  For you are now in the clutches of... Shaka Zulu!"

He started to pull at the Shakespearean costume and face mask with one
hand, as he pulled out a long impaling spear with the other.

"What are we going to do?" lamented the nun.

"Rodilla!" said the raft.

This reminded the Viking Gila Monster of an earlier point in his life,
when (for a brief and shameful moment) he voted for Reagan.

It wasn't really his fault: Reaganomics made sense to him at the time,
gas prices were soaring, and, most importantly of all, there was a bear
in the woods, damn it!  A god damn bear!

And if there was one thing the Viking Gila Monster was afraid of...

If there was one thing that could be construed as being his only
weakness... it was bears!  Especially bears in the god-damn woods!

He shuddered, and this was enough to jog him out of his

Again, he cursed himself for indulging in a flashback at an inopportune
moment.  For now, Shaka Zulu was gone.  So were the Viking Gila
Monster's strange companions.

He was no longer on a raft floating in some interdimensional portal, or
even on a raft floating in some tempest-toss'd sea.  No.

He was on a stationary raft, in the middle of the woods, surrounded by
three bears.  Porridge dripped from their snouts as they inched closer,
closer, closer.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the

From: Arthur Spitzer <arspitzer at>
Subject: Re: usVerse: The Unfinished Sentence-Verse # 8
Newsgroups: rec.arts.comics.creative
Date: Mon,  5 Jun 2006 17:03:59 -0700 (PDT)

The Unfinished Sentence-Verse # 8

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the Man known as Ranch Rancherson sat in a
rocking chair and rocked while he dipped his Ranch Style Potatoe (spelled
with an E as a tribute to Dan Quayle and so Tom Russell will do one of his
oh so amusing spelling critiques) Chips in a Bucket of Ranch Style Dressing.
His dog, Rancho, sat by his side licking drops of spilled Ranch Style
Dressing that fell on the wooden porch.

"You can't keep doing that, Ranch!" his wife, Ranchitta, screamed while
flailing her arms about.  "Humans weren't meant to consume that much Ranch
Style Dressing!  It's inhuman!  Why can't you stop!  Why must you eat so
much Ranch Dressing!  Why are you doing this?!  Don't you care about your
health?  Why, Ranch?!  Why?!  You're going to kill yourself, Ranch!  Please!
Stop!"  Ranchitta looked to the heavens.  "Please, God, stop him from doing
this!  Stop this horrible Ranch Dressing Suicide Binge!  Please!"  Tears
started streaming from her eyes.

"Ah, quit being such a nag!" Ranch Rancherson said as he popped another
Ranch Style Potatoe Chip Covered in Ranch Style Dressing into his mouth.
But, as it turned out, that was one Ranch Style Potatoe Chip Covered in
Ranch Style Dressing too many.  His heart filled to the brim with Ranch
Dressing exploded.  Ranch Rancherson fell from his rocking chair; his body
hit his wooden porch.  Ranch Dressing started to stream from his mouth,
nostrils, ears, eyeballs, and other bodily orifices.  Rancho quickly rushed
to his Master's body and started to lick the ranch dressing leaking out of
Ranch Rancherson's eyes.

And somewhere, a Robot wearing a cowboy hat watched all of this.  And it
smiled a cold mechanical smile.

Meanwhile, back at the teddy bear picnic, the...

Arthur "Ranchless" Spitzer
From: "Tom Russell" <milos_parker at>
Subject: Re: usVerse: The Unfinished Sentence-Verse # 9
Newsgroups: rec.arts.comics.creative
Date: Tue,  6 Jun 2006 13:17:02 -0700 (PDT)

  The Unfinished Sentence-Verse # 9
--Tom Russell

Meanwhile, back at the teddy bear picnic, the last scion of the
Rancherson fortune, Ronald "Hank" Rancherson, squeezed his moth-eaten
teddy bear, like so many of the other small children-and-teddy-bear
couples picnicking on this glorious Sunday morning; they all clapped
their hands and laughed at the tax accountant who had been chosen to
entertain them.

He straightened his tie and cleared his throat, not for the first, and
not for the last time.  "Well, the long and short of it, boys and
girls, is that this woman thought she could claim both the
homesteader's exemption _and_ the standardized exemption, and you
should have seen her face when I told her this was sadly not the way it
works."  He chuckled; the children laughed and clapped some more.

Poor Hank!  This is his last happy moment.  For soon the news will
spread that his father has died.  He stands to inherit the Rancherson
fortune, the Rancherson Secret, and also, the Rancherson enemies.

He will be able to trust no-one.  No-one except his teddy bear, Oswald.

Enjoy this last happy moment, Hank: for within seconds, it will spoilt
by gunfire.

The tax accountant adjusts his tie and clears his throat for what will
prove to be the last time.

"Now, children, here's a funny story about a small business owner who

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