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October 01, 2005

when the frost is on the pumpkin! from one monkey to another,
when the weathers hot and sticky
it's not the time for dunkin dicky
but when the frost is on the pumpkin
now thats the time for dicky dunking.

whats your fall quote?

Careful, it's slippy.

Depends on how heavy they are.

"Winston Churchill had a speech imp-p-pediment, and look what he did--- erased half of London."

---Tempo House, Mark E. Smith

wrong Fall?

The frost will bite us soon,
His tooth is on the leaves."

-- John Davidson, "Harvest Home Song"

The pumpkin is a werewolf.

I hate pumpkins. Useless ugly vile vegetable.

I love pumpkins. They make a great pie, and the seeds, toasted, make a great snack. Very healthy too. Supposedly helps prevent prostate cancer.

And they also make great sex toys.

Oh, those seductive pumpkins.

it's not the time for dunkin dicky?

It's always the time for dunkin dicky!

"That autumn eve was stilled.
A last remains of sunset dimly burned
O'er the far forests,--like a torch-flame turned
By the wind back upon its bearer's hand
In one long flare of crimson; as a brand,
The woods beneath lay black."

- Robert Browning

"O Great Pumpkin, why hast thou forsaken me?!"

-Linus Van Pelt

I awoke today and found
The frost perched on the town
It hovered in a frozen sky
Then it gobbled summer down
When the sun turns traitor cold
And shivering trees are standing in a naked row
I get the urge for going
But I never seem to go

--Joni Mitchell

Pumpkin pie. Mmmmhhh.

Did someone say pumplin pie?
Ah, 'tis the favorite kind of I!
Away with that gelatined strawberry!
Coconut creme is also dreary!
For twenty miles I'd stroll with glee
if a pumpkin awaited me.

Fall is the sigh of the high season
The days go short and abort your reason
The darkness looms and the trees subsume
The marketers rally and tally your room
Not enough stuff, you don't got enough
Winter's comin in and it's dark as sin
The cold is a bitch, so we'll make our pitch
You'll be warmed if conformed


Well the frost is on the pumpkin
And the hay is in the barn
An pappy’s come to rambling on
Stumbling around drunk
Down on the farm

And the walking man walks
Doesn’t know nothing at all
Any other man stops and talks
But the walking man walks on by
Walk on by

-James Taylor, "Walking Man"

...if a pumpkin awaited me


mmmmmmmmmm pie.

When come back bring pie!


Please sit down, Pete. You may have a large slice of some of GramMa's home baked punkin pie flavored with cinnamon and nutmeg and topped with a big scoop of real whipped cream AFTER your English lesson. Just because you're Monkey, or because your upset about pie, is no reason not use proper English.

*swallows saliva, dives into pie*

Mac Hammond

The butcher knife goes in, first, at the top
And carves out the round stemmed lid,
The hole of which allows the hand to go
In to pull the gooey mess inside, out -
The walls scooped clean with a spoon.
A grim design decided on, that afternoon,
The eyes are the first to go,
Isosceles or trapezoid, the square nose,
The down-turned mouth with three
Hideous teeth and, sometimes,
Round ears. At dusk it's
Lighted, the room behind it dark.
Outside, looking in, it looks like a
Pumpkin, it looks like ripeness
Is all. Kids come, beckoned by
Fingers of shadows on leaf-strewn lawns
To trick or treat. Standing at the open
Door, the sculptor, a warlock, drops
Penny candies into their bags, knowing
The message of winter: only the children,
Pretending to be ghosts, are real.

...flavored with cinnamon and nutmeg...

*drowns in own drool*

W. Shakespeare

That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou seest the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire
Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by.
This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

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