Oh look! wring memorizes one word and all of a sudden she’s some kinda international…
<d&r underneath the “Liberal but not a fucking lunatic table”>
where, of course, it’s easier to kick you…
Hey, that’s my forehead you’re kicking!
Guess I’ll take summa that brie…
<I see London… I see France…
I see wring & Guin’s underpa— Ouch!!>
Nice party, can I join?
Efrem stays standing, looks around carefuly, then steals most of the sliverware from the lunatic table (I left them the spoons, but they really shouldn’t have any sharp items on hand).
So, did I miss anything?
looks around again then spikes then punch of the “Liberal but not a fucking lunatic table” No reason, just had the opertunity while they were busy doing something (what’s that sound?) under the table
Picks a seat at Sparc’s table close to the action and waits (Does have future plans to run away with the oldest bottle of wine and cutest female guest)
:Sparc pours efrem a glass:
“Salam Malekum efrem. You didn’t miss much, he’s only warming up with a preamble, all the confused verbal attacks in this general direction and most of ill founded gibberish is still to come.”
:Hides '46 bottle of Chateau Petrus while efrem looks around for chicks:
Mind if I join in? The Liberal but not a Fucking Lunatic table sounds right for me.
*sits down, orders a Regellitan soda (I think even the Resteraunt at the end of the Universe won’t serve alchohol to minors).
Passing the Smell Test
Garbage – when it’s said in French,
Doesn’t seem to have a stench.
So, try debating *en français *
Liberalism might make sense that way.
:Sparc chucks one very rotten tomato and a handful of very ripe fromage de chevre in the general direction of the stage and the specific direction of where december is standing at the microphone:
“Come ooon old geezer! Give is better up! Sing something!”
It’s been a while since I’ve heckled but somehow december rekindles the desire:
Hey ! What about ‘Jersey Girl’ ???
“…Now baby won’t you come with me
`Cause down the shore everything’s all right
You and your baby on a Saturday night
Nothing matters in this whole wide world
When you’re in love with a Jersey girl…”
Take it away, december…or better still, take him away ! 
Had a dream; it was appalling.
Outside snow was softly falling
Inside, though, was London_Calling
Balling faster than before.
Then there came a great debater
Honored as elucidator
Skidding like a hot potater
Right across the kitchen floor.
Knocking down the sacred vessel
Spilling oil on the floor.
Will a Sparc ignite the vessel?
Must opponents always wrestle?
Can we match the wit of Cecil?
Quoth the Raven.“Nevermore.”
And does Cecil rhyme with trestle?
Quoth the raven, “nevermore.”
We’re in Ashcroft’s kitchen? JDM
p.s.- “upon the floor” would scan better
There once was a man called december
Who found it quite hard to remember
That Muslims and Arabs
Aren’t all evil scarabs
Despite the events of September
And let’s take a man like Sharon
Even threatened by suicide bomb
Not all his decisions
Are born out of wisdom
And some are quite patently wrong
And likewise if Yass Arafat
Could just stop his endless combat
He’d remove the excuse
That Sharon likes to use
That Jenin was just tit-for-tat
Stands up and claps
Encore! Encore!
throws a rose on stage
You rock istara!
ducks as to dodge the barage of on-coming flowers while taking another sip of wine
A guy from Dubai named Istara
Wrote poems like there was no tomorra’
…He took over first place
…In the limerick race
When december couldn’t find a last line. 
Matt here in the US one hears both see-sul and seh-sul. Do you know that Mr. Adams uses the former?
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through december threads at dawn looking at an angry twit,
angelheaded posters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo of the logic of the cite,
who confused and tatters and hollow-eyed and cross-eyed sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating murder
Much as I’d like to do the whole thing, it’d take up 2 pages of posts. My apologies to Mr. Ginsberg who once signed my copy of Cosmopolitan Greetings while remarking, “Is this a conference or a fucking autograph signing?”
:Sparc Raises glass to stofsky:
Amen!
Here’s to you and ol’ Ginsberg!
So on and on goes this most foreboding show
Through hail and rain, sleet and snow
Looks like December’s lost his touch
Though Sparc seems to think it was never much
istara stole the show
Made December look like a two-bit hoe
Sparc comes along and raises his glass
And shoves it up December’s ass
December get’s pissed
Raves about Israel and Sparc
Who claims it was all a good lark
“So they get blown up” he screams and shouts
“It doesn’t hurt, I really doubt”
December’s not happy: “you’re supporting murder”
matt_mcl comes along and takes it further,
“I do believe, your rhyme is incorrect”
To which December does object
“Here in the US” he claims
“We use both pronounciations”- for shame
Why can’t things be simpler?
“A E I O U” - in the words of Henry Winkler
Efrem joins the show too late
Forgets this is not a great debate
So he picks himself a chair
And ensures he steals the silverware
Looks around and hollers at Sparc
Eyes wide open, like a shark
For he’s on the prowl, for a cute female guest
“wouldn’t mind” he thinks, “if she let’s me near her chest”
istara makes his point
“Not all Arabs, blow up the joint”
“Not all Muslims personify evil”
“Take a look at Sharon, he’s hardly regal”
Along comes stofsky, he seems distraught
I don’t understand
His exact thought
It seems a bit confusing
My mind is just refusing
To take in what he has said
Whatever it was, I’ll bet B]December** see’s red
Alas, I think it is a pity
Considering I thought he was someone pretty
No really, I mean it - I knew not he was a man
Upon first impression, I was an awestruck fan
Thinking of a distant red-haired beauty
Who reminded me of my duty
To give to her a kiss to remember
I can barely recall her name: Holy shit, it was December!