2/25/08

Salt bomb

I'm reading this novel with a character named Olive in it, and every time I read the name Olive, I instantly want to eat some olives. The problem is, Olive plays a pretty significant role in the novel, and I have the willpower of a slobbering dog in the refrigeration facilities of a third-world morgue during a brownout.

Me : olives :: ravening dog : putrefied corpses

This one's almost too easy. Almost. Shooting fish, but, as the man said, I don't see nothing wrong with a little bump and grind. Click to embiggen.

2 comments:

Dina said...

you're outta control, tye. but you will open these books much later in your life and chuckle with more gusto than you are now, but for different reasons.

D said...

I actually think about this often. I'm considering selling back all of my Henry James novels -- which is something I never do -- just so somebody else can resent my handiwork. But I do like the idea of the old man me laughing at myself with gusto, and then, like, "oh la la" by the Faces fades in and it's like "I wish... that... I knew what I know now..." and then I start dancing with Miss Cross. She's a babe.