Balderdash

Now the title says this is balderdash, but let me assure you, there are many very intelligent and amazing things contained within this post!  Coherency is not among those things, however, neither is brilliant writing structure, which is why it is called Balderdash, I suppose.  Well, I believe I shall let you judge it for yourself.
You see, it all started as the day waned, I sat atop a grassy hill in the middle of a beautiful ocean of grass, the great waves rolling across the plain in large wavy motions of waves which one expects of waves when they wave, very naturally of course.   My attention was soon diverted from the waving waves by the startling appearance of an extremely startling sight!  It was so startling that I rolled off the top of the hill and down to the bottom of my startlment.  When I reached the bottom of the hill, the startling thing had disappeared, and I have never found out what it was.  It is a strange mystery which haunts me to this day.  I still have nightmares of that strange startling dealybobber which knocked me off my whoshumacallit down to the thingybobber.  In the mares of night it always pops up and I scream and it screams and I scream and it screams and I pull out my frying pan and kablammy the dream explodes in a flashbang of exploding things!  All sense of proportion is thrown out of whack and it all comes a tumbling down.  Right on top of me.  I screamed and it screamed and I screamed and it screamed and I….well you know the rest.  It was one of those dreams over which you have no control.  One that pulls you where it will and drops you at the slightest sign of discomfort (to it, not you).  And so it happened that I wound up I don’t know where in the unknown vastnesses of my mind.  Now you may not know this, but my mind is a vast void of mindly stuff that is all joggled together to create some semblance of a mind that looks somewhat similar to somebody else’s mind (don’t ask me who) and when you look at it in the right light, you just might come to the conclusion that it belongs to that person.  But let me tell you right now, that there mind belongs to ME and to me only.  If I see anyone trying to steal it, I’ll belt said person over the head with my brain.  That oughta teach ‘em somat.  No one messes with my mind and gets away with it!  But just in case they do, I’d like to say they’re always sure to take a souvenir away with them.  Something akin to a slight disturbance in the brain.  That is to say, they ain’t got much left in the upper room after an encounter like that.  A few fries short of a happy meal.  A sock short of a full load.  Like a cat with a dead mouse tied up in a ball of string filled with catnip.  They all come down to the same thing, there’s something rotten in Denmark!  And I think it’s that suspicious looking egg there.  Ah well, such is the life of one in constant danger of losing one’s mind from ones enemies who seek to take said mind for whatever devious purposes them may have in store.  Or stock, I’m not sure which…well it doesn’t really matter as my mind is securely guarded by my brain.  And I know that my brain is perfectly capable of handling anything my mind can dish out.  To the other guys.  The ones trying to steal my brain.  From my mind.   Oh never mind, I’m sure you get the picture, whatever it may be.  Now, on to more important matters.  Such as an ending for this ramble of rambling.  The prospects look just a tad dismal at the moment…but never you fear!  I will rise above the problems afore the end of—

The End

Meet Fred

Today you get to meet Fred.  That is correct, Fred, my good friend and constant companion.  In this blog post, you shall hear the first of his adventures.  And it will be a doozy, you can take his word on it, because mine might not be reliable.  Well, without further ado, I shall begin.

Fred was walking down the street one day, as he does often, when he saw something shiny in the middle of the street.  It was just sitting there, twinkling brightly in the sun.  Now Fred cannot resist anything shiny (who can?), so he walked over to it and reached down to pick it up.  Something hit him.  Hard.  Everything went black.

When he came to, he was lying flat on his back on some comfortable grass.  To his extreme disappointment, the shiny thing was not in his hand anymore.  He got to his feet, but before he could look around, a fawn popped out of nowhere.

“Welcome, Son of Adam!” the fawn said. “We have been anxiously awaiting your arrival.”

Fred stared at the fawn and said the first thing that came to mind. “Hi.”

The fawn turned and began to walk away. “Come.  There is much to be done before the White Witch can be defeated.”

“Hold up,” Fred had recovered from his initial shock. “You’re a fawn, there’s a White Witch, is this Narnia?”

The fawn nodded, but didn’t stop walking.

“Whoa there, buddy,” Fred called after him. “I ain’t fighting any White Witch.  It’s way too dangerous.  She might turn me to stone, or even give me Turkish delight.  That stuff’s nasty.”

The fawn turned back. “You don’t like Turkish delight?”

“No.”

With a sigh, the fawn shook his head. “Then you’re no good.”

He tossed something to Fred, who caught it.  Everything went black again.

When he came around again, he was back on his back, but this time it hurt and he was on hard concrete.  People were standing over him looking scared and worried.  A siren was blaring in the distance, coming closer.  Fred felt something in his hand and managed to glance down at it. 

He had the shiny object.

There he is folks.  Fred.  A regular guy to whom really weird things happen.  You could say he doesn’t take full advantage of those opportunities, but hey, he’s a simple dude with simple wants.  Going to Narnia or whatnot is not among those wants.  But maybe someday I’ll tell you about the time he tried to eradicate terrorism once and for all.  It's an interesting tale, that one.

Concerning Thanksgiving

  Tis the season, right?  Right.  So I am going to address a very important issue with this post.  What I am about to tell you may come as a shock.  Be prepared, for it is shocking.  Which is why it might come as a shock.
  Okay, Thanksgiving, a wonderful day, no doubt.  We get off school, eats lots of good food, and thank the Lord for the blessings he has bestowed upon us.  Sounds way awesome, right?  Wrong.  Well, okay, it sounds good, but it’s not!
  My friends, you have been seriously deceived when it comes to Thanksgiving.  Probably with Christmas too, but that’s a story for another time. 
  Have you ever thought of the turkey?  Hm?  Each year thousands of turkeys are slaughtered to be feasted upon on Thanksgiving Day.  Now I’m not reprimanding you for eating a turkey.  Turkeys are tasty.  I’m asking you to look deeper.  Why the turkey?  What significance does the turkey have?  I have thought long and hard on those questions, and I have come to the conclusion that, it’s not the turkeys’ fault.  Someone has been setting the poor blighters up year after year until it now has become such a tradition that nobody questions it anymore.  Everyone just thinks, “Thanksgiving?  Ooo dog!  Can’t wait for my turkey!”  And so the turkeys have been slaughtered.  Every year.  One day.  Thousands of turkeys.  Doesn’t that seem just a little suspicious?  No, actually, it seems extremely suspicious.  It forces you to ask the question, what did the turkeys do to earn them this fate?
  This is also a question I have considered long and hard.  And I believe I have hit upon the answer.  The simple fact is, the turkeys didn’t do nuthin to deserve this fate (and yes I realize that was a double negative!)!  They have been framed!  Someone has created this tradition to dispose of the poor turkeys!  But who would do such a dastardly deed?  There is only one possible answer.  As much as it saddens me to say it, I’m afraid that the guinea pigs have committed this incredibly act of criminality. 
  You see, when the tradition of Thanksgiving began, guinea pigs were a prime delicacy.  So, to keep themselves from being chosen as the main course of everyone’s Thanksgiving dinner, they integrated the turkeys as the traditional meal.  I suppose you could say they were acting on self preservation, but it was still a low blow.  Who would have thought that those cute little piggies could concoct such a plot?  It’s almost beyond reason.  Yet, I’m afraid it’s true.  They plotted and planned and did devious deeds until the only thing people could think about when Thanksgiving rolled around was their turkey dinner.  And the turkeys had no idea.  When they were struck by this calamity, it probably knocked them down and out, turning them into tame fowls, just sitting around, waiting to be eaten, leaving the guinea pigs to get off scot free. 
  I almost wish a turkey would see this post and arouse his brethren to take their revenge!  But I can’t wish that, because, while guinea pigs may be evil little blighters, they’re so darn cute!  I can wish, though, that no guinea pig will see this.  If one does—I may never see the light of day again.  That would be a tragedy.  I like daylight…
  There, now you know.  I hope it didn't come as to great of a shock.  Just remember this as you're eating your turkey dinner, and be thankful.  The guinea pigs were no doubt capable of much worse...

Bevy? Balderdash?

  Not quite the most common of words, are they?  For those of you who know what they mean, good for you.  For those who don't, I shall explain.  Bevy means a group, or large amount, or something along those lines.  Balderdash is the equivalent of nonsense, baloney, insanity.  Put the two together and what do you get?  My blog, of course.
  However, I do not propose to waste your time with nothing worth reading.  I sincerely hope that what I write you will want to read.  The name simply implies that a rather nonsensical approach will often be what you find here.  And perhaps the use of large words and lengthy sentences.  Beyond that, I honestly cannot tell you what to expect.  My style of writing is the only thing that might remain constant throughout, and even that is not assured.   If you want a steady, predictable, insightful type of blogging, I'm afraid you will have to keep looking.  But if you enjoy a strange, unpredictable, and only possibly insightful blogging, come on in and stay a while.  I'll be glad for the company.
  As this is somewhat of an introductory post, I suppose I should continue introducing.  Would you like to know more about me, my dog, or Fred?  Since it was a rhetorical question I shall answer it by telling you about Fred. 
  Fred is a good friend of mine, although I know very little about him.  I don't know when he was born, how he was born, where he was born, or even why he was born.  Well, actually, when I think about it, I do know why he was born.  I was bored, and therefore I created him.  I did not detail his birth though.  Who would want to read about that...?  The only solid detail I really know about Fred is his name, the rest is up for speculation, though generally shifts with my mood.  Whenever my creative impulses run wild with me, Fred is always how I express them.  I cannot tell you when, where, why, or how he'll appear in this blog, but it is very possible that he will pop up, so be ready for him when he does.
  Oh, and if you were wondering about my dog, her name is Gracie, she is a golden retriever, and she is the cutest thing on this planet when she wants to be.