Frog Applause by Teresa Burritt for August 03, 2024

Now that you mention it …

i didn’t smell that

And it makes a fine wine.

I didn´t smell anything. The gods have blessed me with no sense of smell.

Oh that? That’s the sick people baking in the goat pen with their unwell goldfish. Every Thursday at 6:00. Don’t know about the jet fuel though.

Fred and Lamont Sanford must be having another barbecue.

Adding the goat pen was my idea. Nobody could figure out what was missing, but everybody agreed that it definitely needed something, and I remembered goat pen. The rest is history!

I think I’ve olfactorially covered everything on the list except maybe mulberry and dead goldfish (do other kinds of dead fish count?).

I have Frog Applause Illusion lyrics in the process of re-writing. Yeah. That’s right. I put Frog Applause in the title. What of it?

So, you’re saying it smells like Nashville, Tennessee?

High minded? Naw, unwashed tonic laden hair.

It’s just Wilbur Weston.

wonderful contrasting background!

Sorry, my bad.

The COVID-19 gods took away my olfactory acuity and left me with lingering unidentifiable scent impressions.

And you may ask yourself, “Well, how did I get here?”

WHAT!!….no applesauce? Huh!

Oh gawd! This has me so nostalgic for Boones Farm Strawberry Hill!

I was bleeding the brakes on my daughters van, and an awful smell came from the brake fluid. I just couldn’t identify it, not that it was something to remember or write about.

I lived in a rural area for 32 years, unincorporated and away from town ordinances. Occasionally the wind would waft such scents our way. Most pungent were odors from a large pig enclosure about three miles away; and a veal calf barn about half-a-mile away. And some farmers spread cow manure on their fields. That’s part of life living amongst farmers. Most offensive were those who burned trash and didn’t care where the smoke drifted.

It’s so intense, even the helmet has to comment.

Re: Blog I sense some overlap between the phishing warning and the potato pamphleteer. Creating a sense of doom if you don’t act urgently…

I only love the smell of napalm in the morning …!

What? There was no essence of surveillance pickle?

Oh good… I thought that smell was me.

Put ’em all together and you get that old Olympian favorite, ambrosia. The stuff Jove and the rest ate had no Jello in it.

Ever since that fling with Medusa, he has unwillingly shed his cranial shell on a monthly basis. His displeasure and discomfort at this event is wrought in echos as a mallet to a bell, sounding alarm and announcing its own foul demise. It’s contractions releasing an odorous quivering imprint, not easily forgotten.

Hint of potpourri for good measure….

What ho?

An olfactory delight, a connoisseur’s expert opinion, a former oinophile’s expansion into ambient aromatology.

Yes, yes.

Caricatures, however, raise an eyebrow or two. Some faux-Perikles wearing his not quite Corinthian helmet (traditionally explained as cosmetic coverage of his exceptionally high forehead)? And the helmet speaks and does the smelling?!

Surely, this is some 21st century AI conjure-magic!

The true image here perilously parodied may be seen at the Wikipedia article “Pericles” (sic).

[signed]Your friendly Sisyphean hyper-pedant….

Sparky warky was a parking marky hockey lurky-darky sung in La Alpo.

What if Superman’s Judy Lane.

Pot Munchies brownies.

Wow I could have had a V8 I mean a Klondike bar.

Redeoderise the second arm pit.

In any case, it smells lame.

…reminds me of being in the back seat of my first car…

…Nanky-poo…

…a 1972 puke green Plymouth Valiant…

…with my first girlfriend Kathy Friend…

…watching the submarine races…

…tours of the Froglandia Bathmat Factory still gives me chills…

… most people don’t go on a smellcataion…

…why dogs smell butts…

…now…

…say it in Latin…

…my first 7 gocomics passwords…

…the forgotten fifth verse lyrics of…

….Cheeseburger In Paradise…

…my last Scrabble word list…

…rejected titles for my new novel…

…Cracker Barrel…

Per Gaggle’s “translate”:

The Latin version of the English pronoun “it” can be either of the following: “it”, “illud”, “id”, or “ollud” …!

( believe ID or naught )

I should have said something earlier, but I really really like the dude’s hat.