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Squid #147
(published August 14, 2003)
Notes From The Giant Squid: Swing Low, Sweetened Chariot

Who is Poor Mojo's Giant Squid?
Hey Squiddie . . .
My name is Don, Molly's friend from Friendster . . . I just had a quick question . . . do you foresee any problems with swing clubs or swinging in general? Me and my girlfriend like to, every so often, but for some feeling I see tension building up about the whole situation . . . should we stop or just wait for something to happen?


(To my general readerbase, I feel it is appropriate to add a brief explanation of some details, at first cryptic, above included. Until recently I was a loyal and active member of the Friendster Network of Friends. I initially took this to be a Quaker organization— how I love the antics of those funny little egalitarian Christianos!— but was quick to discover my error in understanding. The Friendster Network of Friends is, in fact, rather a social experiment in which various individuals, worldwide and lifelessly solitary in their geographical locale, might interface directly and exchange advice viz. courting, mating, and other such matters of etiquette— perhaps even finding within the network a harmonically aligned soul with whom to exchange the notes d'amour and similar niceties. I was indeed a Squid-about-Town on this Network fo Friends, and had to my credit many a lifelong pal and close confident. It was, in many ways, a Golden Age of Camaraderie for this lone and lonely Dweller High Atop the Centre d' Renaissance.

Then, of a sudden, the day did darken, and I was cast out of this Eden of Friends by the harsh hands of tyrannical "Friendster" (no friend to Squid is the "Friendster"!), he claiming that I was little more than the fancifully rantings and playacting of some grunt-chimp sorts, and thus no valid friend! Ah, the humiliation, the pain of the rejection. Was this not love, all over again, her claws into my tender flesh and triple-triphammer hearts? Oh, the hurt!

I then swore revenge, called for blood and viscera and the oozing of gutscutwrithings, raged for days within my tank demanding the ceaseless and ever-expanding suffering of this must unfriendly "Friendster."

It was Molly, my intern, and Rob, my faithful lab assistant— fine and upstanding samples of your rather shallow species— that soothed me, convinced me that vengeance upon the network was neither needed, nor demanded, nor the best path to better times and the "resolutions" so favored in Rob's dodeca-partite programs. Instead, they insisted, they would appear on the Friendster's Network, in my stead, and maintain my network of friends, acquaintances and well-wishers, so that no buddies della bosom nor bon hommes need be lost in the shifting binary tides of this World Wide Sea of Faces.

They are indeed, in addition to being fair-to-middling employees, good friends, these Rob and Molly. I appreciate much-greatly their inputs and outputs.

The "Friendster" above is that network— most fickle, in the first drawing close the cold and weary, and in the second pushing away are scions true— and the above Molly is my own fair and reliable intern, Molly Reynolds.

And that, it is the story told. Now, onward, backward, to noble Don's query of the day.)

Dearest Don,

Ah, Don-don; when will you simple mud-shuffling humpmonkeys learn the dire danger of angering your better, stronger halves? If the female is uncomfortable, if there are the tensions tensing and the stressors causing the stresses, then to stop is the only course of action reliable and safely to be trusted. I hear, in my little virtual-ear, already the plaintive cry emitting "But Squiddie-dearest; she does indeed want it and desire it and should I not be best served by serving her most ardent wantings?"

Indeed, Dan-don, that would seem to be the case— Please always the savage female with alacrity, her desires both great and small, is that not our motto central, the Premiere Rule of Thumbs Numero the First?— but think twicely, and be cut only once. Perhaps the female claims this is her desire true. Perhaps she is insistent in the extreme. Perhaps she threatens grave bodily harm (blessure grave!). But you know, in your several hearts, how this matter will end, and where-in her true heart's-happiness dwells, do you not? Indeed, you do, dear Don-don.

This is our role, as males, as men: Do provide what most be provided, deny what it is best to deny, and bear the brunt of the rage there born.

Of course, is not all of this the vague and general? Indeed it is, for I require further details spécifique in order to make custom and fit my advice in this matter. To the point, are we speaking of a club dedicated to the swing of dancing or the swing to sets? In this moment, I can say at least the following for each: in the former case, be wary of the over-ready partner-switch, as the females are indeed jealous overlords, and in the latter be careful and fleet of foot in the dismounted, is the skinnéd-knee will indeed hinder a proper grovel.

Finally, please direct your attentions to the following news item of note. It would appear that, although but in its primary week, my campaign is already possessed of the momentum of the freely fleeing locomotive. Vote Early, Vote Often, VOTE SQUID!

I Remain Your Candidate and Advisor,
The Giant Squid

Got a Question? Contact the Giant Squid
or check the Squid FAQ

Love the Giant Squid? Buy his first book.

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see other pieces by this author | Who is Poor Mojo's Giant Squid? Read his blog posts and enjoy his anthem (and the post-ironic mid-1990s Japanese cover of same)

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