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Elitist Scrabbler Keep Detailed Records. 2 Jan 2011

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No sooner had he battered another wannabe Scrabble (copyright til you die) player when the victor whipped out the long thin spiral-bound tablet hanging out of his left back pocket and flipped frantically through the pages until the found the name of his victim, Frank Lee, that ferocious wuss from Cincinnati. “Let’s see, that makes 63 wins for me against yout; 10 wins for you. I’ve played a total of 120 7-letter bingoes against you, 57 8-letter bingoes including “bepainted” in this one; 12 9-letter bingoes and 10 10-letter ones and 5 triple-triples. My winning percentage against you, Frank, is 86.30137, although my calculations are that it should be closer to 91.637 per cent. I average drawing about 1 1/2 blanks against you and 7.7 of the 11 power tiles. I should be doing a lot better against you with that kind of draw luck, although it’s pretty obvious the numbers would be close to these in any case, seeing that my skill level is so much greater than yours. Shouldn’t your rating be higher than 1200 after 25 years of tournament play? Or do your physical disabilities bleed over into your mental faculties? I suppose not; I actually don’t beat you as often as some of the other mediocre players in my book. Where are your records?” – Thoreau Maskin, staff reporter, “The Daily Scrabble Babble.” “Elite players sweep Scrabble (copyright til you die) Tournaments in Flint; Scold their opponents as Lazy & Inept. January 10, 2011.


 

 

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Written by frankieleeee

January 2, 2011 at 4:17 pm

2 December 2010 Injunction Sought by Dissidents

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Members of a dissident Scrabble (copyright til you die) group have filed for a legal injunction against what they call the obsessive effort of elitist player/parent members of their rival group to pound their children into clones of themselves at the Scrabble (copyright til you die) board. “Those children are forced to memorize long lists of meaningless words up to 5 hours a day without any consideration at all for their needs as developing human beings,” said Ima Goodun, spokesperson for the splinter group. “We’re asking the federal courts order these people to cease and desist and give these kids their lives back before they’ve completely lost their childhoods.” So far, no comment from the elitist-driven group. A hearing is set for early January in Dallas. –

Thoreau Maskin.

The Daily Scrabble (copyright til you die) Babble. Hell MI. December 2, 2010.

Written by frankieleeee

December 3, 2010 at 2:09 pm

Conspectus This!

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(200104–) “If you’ll look back at the childhoods of the top Scrabble players in this country,” Dr. Gofer Blood suggested, “you’ll find that 70-85% of them experienced chronic anger management problems, especially in competition. Many have experienced severe health problems due to the frustration and self-loathing that arose from the failure to beat their peers at games of any kind. They searched exhaustively for something to be good at, to still the raging beast in their breast. And, in many instances, found the answer to their lifelong longing inside the box holding a Scrabble game. In a loose manner of speaking, most high-ranked Scrabble players today are well-adjusted. Except during a game, of course.” —- “Scrabble Royalty: 21st Century Gladiators.” Thoreau Maskin. Spuemout Press. Copyright April 2001. Page 255.

(Mar 2003) “Information intercepted by brave Americans and smuggled into Hell (MI) finally provides empirical evidence of the underlying cause of the hard-feelings between George Bush, beloved President of the USofA, and Saddam Hussein, worshipful leader of the Iraqis: a leisurely Scrabble© game between the two erupted into mutual tantra on 17 July 2002 when the president jumped up almost upending the wordy gameboard between them, screaming at the very top of both his lungs and lexicon, ‘there are no Qs without Us!’ Show me yer damn book til yer eyes bug out and there still won’t be Qs without Us in the USofA. They are illegal; they are a tool of the communists; they are dangerous; they are tantamount to weapons of mass destruction. In short, they are nasty. If you don’t take QANAT off this board and play a real word, I swear you’ll never have a moment’s peace on god’s green earth until you are ruined! You think I’m kiddin? I’ve got bombs, Saddam; I’ve got nukes and I’ve got boys and girls who’ll shove em up your patooty. Now, for the last time, take it off the board. Last warning. Last warning! You’re dead!” —- Thoreau Maskin. “Dubya is a sore scrabble© loser (see War with Iraq)” Spuemout Press. P. O. Box 666. Hell MI. copyright 2002. p103. used with permission. all rights reserved. (Violators will be taken to  and mercilessly pummelled by egoconcentric players who have been sentenced to gameland purgatory and who are beating their way to the pearly gates)

(Mar 23 2003) “Saddam Hussein lives. I have personally pretty much confirmed that Hussein is alive and in hiding at an undisclosed location outside Baghdad. I saw him with my own eyes through the lenses of some very powerful binoculars. Officials high in his government, who requested anonymity, say the Iraqi leader is holed up with one of the world’s foremost Scrabble (copyright til you die) players, desperately cramming for a game with George Bush, a game that, these sources say, will determine the outcome of the war which we understand was sparked by an angry Bush in a snit in reaction to Hussein’s liberal use of “Q-with-no-U” words to win a game narrowly. The “coalition” attacks allegedly were launched to disrupt Hussein’s preparation for the game that will once and for all decide the fate of the country arbitarily created by Great Britain in 1921. Iraqi officials admit, unofficially, of course, their leader faces two major challenges. One, becoming proficient enough to beat the U. S. president without “Q-with-no-U” words, a non-negotiable Dubya demand, and, two, arriving at the gamesite in one piece through the obstacle course Dubya calls “the liberation blues.”  Dubya says if the bombs and/or missiles and/or coalition fighting machine should kill or incapacitate the Iraqi leader, he, Dubya, will claim victory by default. Neither side will speculate on just when history’s most momentous Scrabble (copyright til you die) game will be played. —- Thoreau Maskin. “Report from an Iraqi presidential palace.” March 22, 2003. Courtesy Spuemout Press. P. O. Box 666. Hell MI 48169. Copyright© 2003. all rights reserved. (Violators will be taken to  and mercilessly pummelled by egoconcentric players who have been sentenced to gameland purgatory and who are beating their way to the pearly gates.

(23 Mar 2003) Program note: Once Thoreau Maskin, a self-style Scrabble© researcher and writer, uncovered the key role the game played in the latest outbreak of armed conflict in the Mid-East, he sought assignment to cover the war and was so assigned by his publisher in anticipation of yet another tome. Because of the expense and complexity of physically covering the area, Maskin says he’s able to keep ahead of conventional media through astral travel. “The effort, as you can imagine, is exhausting,” he whispered on March 21st. “However, it is manifestly rewarding to know that while other correspondence must depend on second and third hand information, I’m able to report from first hand observations.” Excerpts from Maskin’s reports to his publishers will be released as we believe is warranted by content. Maskin says he’s living in Hell as he carries out his latest duties as war correspondence.

(20050928) (NEW ORLEANS) — Two spokespersons for the National Scrabble (copyright til you die) Association deny growing rumors that Hurricane Katrina was formed by hot air formed by Scrabble (copyright til you die) players on a cruiseship in the Caribbean near her birthplace. NOAA (National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration) officials say the deadly storm’s genesis is puzzling and point to studies which seem to indicate that a large gathering of either politicians or scrabble (copyright til you die) players have the potential of releasing sufficient amounts of hot air to spawn a hurricane.

(20050928) (EAST LANSING, MICHIGAN) — Researchers at Michigan State University have uncovered what they think might be innovative, if somewhat bizarre, sexual practices among U-S Scrabble (copyright til you die) players. While they’re reluctant to provide details, claiming more study is required, they say one of the telling manifestations of this eerie rite is the listing of tournament bingos by the players on the internet. They refused to be more forthcoming. Expect additional revelations from this ongoing research in the near future, I’m told by sources inside Michigan State. news tips are always welcome… and i’m always willing

(20060304) “I’m leaving you, Captain M,” she said as consciousness began to return from its euphoric timeout. “Never again will you plumb the depths of my devotion to you. NO! You have betrayed us all. You have deserted us for them. May your elitism cause you as much suffering as your abandonment of mediocrity has caused your fervent followers. Go now! May your shadow never cross my path again. And, no, I won’t sing at your funeral.” —- Thoreau Maskin. “Captain M’s Betrayal.” page 261. 2006 Spuemout Press. Hell, MI.

(20060312) Captain M awoke with a start! For a moment he didn’t know where he was. Or who. Until he saw the unrumpled sheet next to him. A cannonball burst in his belly as he remembered she was gone. “What have I done?” he moaned. “What have I done. And I don’t even ‘like’ lording it over all my former friends. Elitism is defeatism. And look what it’s cost me to find out!” —- Thoreau Maskin. “Captain M’s Betrayal.” page 327. 2006 Spuemout Press. Hell, MI.

(060313)Faerie fire, powered by a full moon, slowly spread a ghostly anti-shadow across the meadow to reveal Captain M tiptoeing back to the cabin he shared with his beautifully mediocre bride. His fact was contorted by equal measures of guilt, pain, success and pleasure. He was coming home from his very first lesson at the feet of a New York elitist. Eager with an unquenchable thirst for power to trample his perfectly mediocre scrabble (copyright til you die) friends underfoot, yet knowing the devastating consequences his success would bring down. “Perhaps,” he thought, as he slipped quietly into bed, “I can have them both: power ‘and’ happiness. Perhaps. Sleep was slow in coming.” —- Thoreau Maskin. “Captain M’s Betrayal.” page 28. 2006 Spuemout Press. Hell, MI.

(20060319) Elitism! The slightest thought of the word set his soul atremble! A lifetime of struggle had been drowned in three months of lust for easy virtue. Yes, his rating was 1831! Yes the sunshine New York crowd now cooed and pawed their way to his table but he knew they’d be gone with the first sustained dip, but he didn’t know if his trueblue friends would ever ever again take him back into their bosom. Tears flowed as he read again the words of his favorite writer Alice Newton Umber Sachet, his grandmother’s sister, “Friends is easy to git rid of, but not always so easy to git back!  — (“Life’s Lessons learned on the banks of a Catfish Creek” ©1952. A.N.U. Sachet. Dog Bark Press. Delight AR”) —-  Thoreau Maskin. “Captain M. Betrayal.” p439. ©2006. Spuemout Press. Hill, MI.

(20060322) As he took his place in the elite section of the tournament, Captain M waved at several former friends in lower divisions. Without exception, they ignored him. After decades of following him in his anti-elitist revolution, it was understandable, he knew, that they would be seething at the news that he had taken a David Gibson elitist course and moved up in the ratings, surpassing all of those he used to hang out with. But even if he went back he knew from the message he himself had preached so long, they’d never trust him again. Matter of fact, he suddenly realized, revenge of the mediocrity was a clear and present danger to his health now. As he drew an X he tried desperately to stifle the wild pounding of his heart. —- Thoreau Maskin. “Captain M. Betrayal.” p451. ©2006. Spuemout Press. Hill, MI.

(20060326) His vision cleared slowly. He rubbed his eyes and shivered from the damp cold. Suddenly he remembered. He’d been walking across the street on his way to the elite Scrabble (copyright til you die) club in THE city when that tiny yellow car had stopped in mid-traffic. Next thing he knew he’d been dragged into the backseat and had a rag stuffed into his face. Must have been chloroform. Despair. He held little hope for his future, for the future of the former Captain M who had forsaken his vow of mediocrity for scrabble (copyright til you die) celebrity. He dreaded his fate and knew both that he had it coming and that it would be one of the bizarre punishments he himself had established just 10 years ago. The shaking was not only from the cold and dampness. —- Thoreau Maskin. “Captain M. Betrayal.” p615. ©2006. Spuemout Press. Hill, MI.

(20060329) The intimate smell of Col. A. V. Rage flooded his senses as the dungeon door scrapped open. Of course! It would be she. Who bettered deserved to oversee his torture after he had wounded her savagely. “Why couldn’t I be satisfied? Why? Why? Why? What made me abandon A. V.’s bed and all my friends for the hellhole of elitists? Hell, I’m so miserable truth is I don’t care what she does. It’s her right and I might’s well be dead as living without the balance of my mediocre friends. What good is 1800 when it’s printed in washable ink?” He opened his eyes and shuddered in fear. Uncontrollably. —- Thoreau Maskin. “Captain M. Betrayal.” p621. ©2006. Spuemout Press. Hill, MI.

(20060404) The worst punishment, the erstwhile Captain M well knew – having meted it out himself a thousand times – would be the banishment from the much sought-after affection of the warm women in the game’s mediocre ranks. Regardless of his ratings fate. Henceforth, he’d be forced to find solace in the game itself, a rather cheap and simplistic imitation of life, and in the cold arms and hearts of the games elitist females, cold for they’d never really given themselves sufficient time off to learn about love and happiness, not like those beautiful, soft, beckoning ladies of the mediocre ranks. The echo of judge’s pounding gavel pulled bile from his belly.” —- Thoreau Maskin. “Captain M. Betrayal.” p703. ©2006. Spuemout Press. Hill, MI.

(20060412)  His throat ached for a drink of water; every nerve ending in his body begged for release from the unending pain his former friends had been punishing him with for hours. “Confess and repent,” they yelled. “Confess and repent. You’ve betrayed the cause of mediocrity; you’ve crossed over to the loveless elitists. You’ve increased your rating by 200 points, agonizing those of us who loved you. Confess and repent! Then, perhaps, we’ll put an end to your suffering. You, the last bastion of our defense against those Scrabble (copyright til you die) nazis.!” —- Thoreau Maskin. “Captain M. Betrayal.” p703. ©2006. Spuemout Press. Hill, MI.

(20090417) “New Scrabble (copyright til you die) findings from a genetic research laboratory in Austria reveal that mediocre players live happier and longer lives than elite players. ‘It appears the considerable energy required to catapult players to the top of the game’s ranks drains those players of the life force that would normally be used by their bodies to produce happiness and longevity,’ said Dr. Moore Orless, chief researcher at Sitem Down Sports Medicine. ‘We’ve actually been able to develop a formula: for every 25 points over a rating of 1750, a Scrabble (copyright til you die) player can expect to have her/his life expectancy reduced by 2 months for every year he/she maintains that high rating. The same formula shows the increasing likelihood of future onset of clinical depression by five percent per year.'” —- “Scrabble Limits Laughter & Life.” Thoreau Maskin. Spuemout Press. Hell, MI. Copyright December 2008. Page 282.

(20090423) “Apparently, Scrabble (copyright til you die) ratings can kill. In Gawshus IA Sheriff Im N Heer has revealed the death of a player appears to be related directly to her Scrabble (copyright til you die) rating. ‘Shell Fleeschu was the picture of health until 2 years ago when her player rating suddenly skyrocketed from the low 14-hundreds to the high 1900s. The strain of maintaining an elitist position among her peers ultimately drained Miss Fleeschu of her life sustaining energy,’ said the Sheriff. In the 20 days since this death was reported, 23 elite players have seen their ratings plunge to the mid 1500s, apparently a desperate measure to return to life sustaining mediocrity.” —- Thoreau Maskin “Weekly Scrabble (copyright til you die) Highlights.”  Week of April 19, 2009. copyright Spuemout Press, Hell MI.

(20090430) “The highly rated, high-breasted Lady Tist opened the kitchen door to Captain M’s soft knock. ‘Our time is limited; we must finish our game and our loveplay before my E. Lee comes home,’ she whispered. ‘Come, the board is ready. Comfort me with your mediocre game, then rescue my soul with your mediocre love making. I yearn for those days before my soul was destroyed by ego and superiority which have already taken five years off my life. Come in. Oh, hurry. Hurry. Chamomile, satine and thee.'” —- “Scrabble Limits Laughter & Life.” Thoreau Maskin. Spuemout Press. Box 666. Hell, MI. Copyright December 2008. Page 176.

(20090506) “As Captain M crept silently toward the open window, his only chance to escape the often-deadly anger of E. Lee Tist, Lady Tist pulled him close to her breast, breathing into his ear, ‘I must see you again. I absolutely must. Yes, E. Lee is a good man. Yes, E. Lee provides well for his family. But, M, being a superior Scrabble (copyright til you die) player means there is no room left for anything else; E. Lee has been made impotent by the inexorable pull of that awful game. Please escape so you can return. Hurry. Hurry!’ The sound of the lowering window was muted by the sound of boots pounding up the stairs to Lady Tist’s rooms.” —- “Scrabble Limits Laughter & Life.” Thoreau Maskin. Spuemout Press. Box 666. Hell, MI 48169. Copyright December 2008. Page 178. All Rights Reserved.

(20090515) “Your wife, I hesitate to inform you, Sir Tist, has been seen in the dark of night with Captain M. In your home. In your boudoir,” whispered Tat L. Tail. “Sir, she’s keeping company with a 1300 Scrabble (copyright til you die) player!” “For the same reason that I never recognize his Scrabble (copyright til you die) victories over me, namely because of his low rating, I also can not recognize the dalliance with my beautiful wife of a 1300 player. He is far too insignificant for me to recognize his existence. Nothing he could do would warrant my displeasure or please; he’s simply way too low a life form. Neither counts, you see, dear Tat.” —- “Scrabble Limits Laughter & Life.” Thoreau Maskin. Spuemout Press. Box 666. Hell, MI 48169. Copyright December 2008. Page 194. All Rights Reserved.

(20090523) “He (E. Lee Tist) has absolutely no objections to our liaison, dear Captain M, or anything else that includes you; you are too lowly rated for him to think of you at all. In any way. That means our love can blossom and grow and add years of pleasure to our lives while Scrabble (copyright til you die) addiction tugs E. to an early grave marked only by his dying rating – he hopes – of 1900 or more. Joy. Oh, Joy, my love. Then we can use his Scrabble (copyright til you die) whole life insurance money to build us just the happiest mediocre household there ever wuz!” —- “Scrabble Limits Laughter & Life.” Thoreau Maskin. Spuemout Press. Box 666. Hell, MI 48169. Copyright December 2008. Page 200. All Rights Reserved.

(20090530) “Captain M, dear,” she murmured softly as she slowly raise her head from his warm breast, “I have great news. I am assured by the science community that Lee has launched himself on a path that will radically reduce his life expectancy even more than his 1910 Scrabble (copyright til you die) rating. He’s gone and formed himself a coalition of elitist players to take over the world of Scrabble (copyright til you die). His plan apparently is to banish all you less than perfect players, leaving it all for them. If he’s successful, that’ll be a good ten years lopped off E. Lee Tist’s time here on earth and ten more years for you and me, my darling. Ain’t it wonderful?” —- “Scrabble Limits Laughter & Life.” Thoreau Maskin. Spuemout Press. Box 666. Hell, MI 48169. Copyright December 2008. Page 222. All Rights Reserved.

(20090617) “The beginning of the end of Scrabble (copyright til you die) as Mr. Butts saw it, you might say, was when the inmates took over the asylum,” comments Dr. Rip E. Tup, chairman of the psychohistory department of Oberlin College, in a speech to members of Congress investigating the rise and fall of what had been America’s favorite game for decades. “Once the elitists assumed leadership in the new players’ association, all discussion and dissension from other factions, e.g., neophytes and mediocre players, was quickly quashed. Average was anathema. Before the crash, minimum requirement to join the group was a rating of 1812. The death knell sounded rather quickly thereafter.” —- Scrabble (copyright til you die): Boom, then Bust. Thoreau Maskin. Spuemout Press. Box 666. Hell, MI 48169. Copyright June 2000. Page 135. All Rights Reserved.

(20090625) “Two years after the formation of a so-called ‘independent’ Scrabble (copyright til you die) players association, mediocrity was outlawed. Players who failed to achieve an 1800 rating within three years of their initiation were booted out of the organization and not only were they blackballed but any members discovered playing with them were subject to large fines and dismissal. Membership plummeted to ten percent of its original size in less than half a decade. Captain M was among the first victims with his 1500 rating. Mrs. E. Lee Tist was forced to hired private detectives to arrange secret rendezvous with her beloved Captain.” —- Scrabble (copyright til you die): Boom, then Bust. Thoreau Maskin. Spuemout Press. Box 666. Hell, MI 48169. Copyright June 2000. Page 137. All Rights Reserved.

(20090721) “We’re actually nearly living our dream,” smiled the new (self-appointed, self-ordained) Scrabble (copyright til you die) guru. “We’ve risen above the tyranny of the old establishment which cared nothing for the opinion of the proletariat. We are independent. We are democratic. We have built a foundation on the backs of solid citizens. No more cheatin’. No more killin’. No more dictatin… jes as soon as I can trust y’all to speak for y’all’s selves. Very, very soon,”he sed. —- Thoreau Maskin. Spuemout Press. Box 666. Hell, MI 48169. Copyright June 2000. Page 123. All Rights Reserved.

(20090728) “Representatives of the Division of Unstinting Morality Badgewearers (D.U.M.B.) today announced they have arrested nearly 200 spouses of elite Scrabble (copyright til you die) players for soliciting sex from mediocre players of the same game. ‘Apparently,’ one DUMB detective said, ‘top Scrabble (copyright til you die) players almost to a person deplete their sex drives by converting it into energy to give them superior playing ability. As a result, their needy spouses have been forced to find love elsewhere. Most ready available are the ranks of mediocre Scrabble (copyright til you die) players who have energy left after a game.’ Plenty, apparently. DUMB says they’ve determine solicitation of sex from mediocre Scrabble (copyright til you die) players is a real bad sin, thus today’s arrests. Names are being withheld to protect the spousal expert players.” —- Thoreau Maskin. The Daily Scrabble Babble. July 23, 2009. Spuemout Press. Box 666. Hell, MI 48169. Copyright June 2000. All Rights Reserved.

(20090806) “It appears, according to authoritative inside sources, that the National Scrabble (copyright til you die) Championship games were a resounding success on two levels. Elite players surfeited themselves with games and anagrams and war stories to last for two cockroach lifetimes; all left Dayton with smiles of success, obviously suffused with satisfaction. It is also reported by that same source that many mediocre players who empathized, late into the night, with the abandoned spouses of elitist players and those abandoned spouses left Dayton with smiles of success, obviously suffused with satisfaction. Some, we are told, are headed toward Hell after Dayton. They are welcome.” —- Thoreau Maskin. The Daily Scrabble Babble. August 6, 2009. Spuemout Press. Box 666. Hell, MI 48169. Copyright June 2000. All Rights Reserved.

(20090905) “75 players in the recent national Scrabble (copyright til you die) competition are said to have sought treatment for temporary blankness and at least one for intellectual exhaustion. Several friends of these fallen minds have begun a campaign promoting mental and physical fitness among tournament players. Mediocre players say they fail to see the need for a higher state of play readiness; Elitists have flooded organizers with dollars and demands for details.” —- Thoreau Maskin. The Daily Scrabble Babble. September 3, 2009. Spuemout Press. Box 666. Hell, MI 48169. Copyright September 2009. All Rights Reserved.

(20090923) —- “Captain M climbed carefully down the fragile trellis outside Merry Tist’s bedroom. His descent was made even more difficult by worry. Had he actually fallen in love with the wife of E. Lee Tist, California’s most highly ranked Scrabble (copyright til you die) player? Had the wonderfully whimsical mediocre player become the profoundly smitten mediocre player. It all fit, he thought. Pulse rate up. Feverish brow. Inability to concentrate on life outside a very small circle surrounding Merry. And yet he knew, with dead certainty, if the two of them merged into a single entity of radiance and, worse yet, fidelity, he would surely be cast out of his beloved Scrabble (copyright til you die) community with no hope of returning. The vengeance of the cuckolded elite players would almost certainly savage any hope he held for future tournaments. He stumbled down the posh street, suddenly feeling the oppressive weight of hopelessness.” —- Scrabble Limits Laughter & Life.” Thoreau Maskin. Spuemout Press. Box 666. Hell, MI 48169. Copyright December 2008. Page 333.

(20091008) “The small band of the country’s most notable Scrabble (copyright til you die) players crept to the rear veranda of the huge southern mansion which had once served as dressing room for Bret Favre while he was shooting “Gone with the Wind.” Captain M, obviously the leader of the hardy little group, grabbed the rope the soon-to-be ex Mrs E. Lee Tist had tossed to the ground from her bedroom window. He quickly scaled the ivy-covered stone wall, gently grabbed his love forever and a day from the sill where she sat just out of sight of her oh so snoring husband, tossed her into the waiting arms of his comrades below, left the note on the pillow next to the snorer, and finally sneaked himself away to a fine new life as a brand new loving husband of the tortured ex-wife of California’s premier Scrabble (copyright til you die) player. He never felt the bullet which felled him as he touched the ground near his waiting sweetheart.” —- Scrabble Limits Laughter & Life.” Thoreau Maskin. Spuemout Press. Box 666. Hell, MI 48169. Copyright December 2008. Page 341.

(20091028) ‘How could such a sweet kiss be so painful?’ He jerked awake. ‘Damn, I wish that had been real,’ he moaned, and not solely from the pain of his bullet wound. ‘You didn’t dream me, Captain,’ murmured Tara N. Tist whose face glowed not two feet away from his. ‘You saved me from E. Lee Tist, a fate worse than death, and you have survived his best effort to kill you and keep us apart, my darling. I am yours. We will dance and we will sing and we will, finally, play Scrabble (copyright til you die) for fun. The doctors say you’ll be fine.”‘ —- Scrabble Limits Laughter & Life.” Thoreau Maskin. Spuemout Press. Box 666. Hell, MI 48169. Copyright December 2008. Page 342.

(20091130) “You must hide us,” whispered Captain M, desperate. The E. Lee Tist caught us enjoying a game of Scrabble (copyright til you die) and has been relentlessly pursuing us since, these last 6 days and 5 nights. We’ve run through the trees and we’ve run through the brambles and we’ve run through the briars where a rabbit couldn’t go. Save us, dear friend, our lives are in your hands. Save us so that we all may enjoy this silly game of hours.” “Silly! I’ll show you silly,” screamed E Lee Tist as he rushed from his hiding place in the living room closet. “I’ll see to it that neither you nor my darling wayward wife ever have one more moment of pleasure in the name of my precious game. Prepare ye for the consequences. Now.” —- Scrabble Limits Laughter & Life.” Thoreau Maskin. Spuemout Press. Box 666. Hell, MI 48169. Copyright December 2008. Page 351.

(20091222) “Happy yuletide, you two lovers,” smiled Com N. Place as he presented his friend Captain M and Tara N a gift of fleece. “This will ward off the cold north winds as you make your way from the slavefields of E. Lee Tist to that great island out there where Scrabble (copyright til you die) is a nondeadly sport. We’ll cover your trail here with a blanket of black pepper to ward off the dogs. You’ll probably have just enough time for one quickie if you’re to escape the jaws of their trap. I hear E. Lee Tist’s rating has dropped 53 points since you left him, Tara, in spite of all that hooey about the victory of Scrabble (copyright til you die) above all else. Now go jump into that warm bed there; you’ve got exactly 32 minutes.”  —- Thoreau Maskin. Spuemout Press. Box 666. Hell, MI 48169. Copyright December 2008. Page 368.

(20100103) “‘I’ve never seen the likes of it before,’ exclaimed New York City Police Commissioner A. Wrest Stir. ‘This plague of assaults on mediocre Scrabble (copyright til you die) players is unprecedented in my city where there are never no surprises. 15 of them suckers, all with ratings between 1200 and 1492 have been sent to the hospital. All but one of their attackers have been identfied as elitist Scrabble (copyright til you die) players that until now you couldn’t pry away from their damned gameboards with a crowbar. Ever one of ’em has a rating above 1800. I guess there’s room in their little bitty hearts for somet emotion besides Scrabble (copyright til you die) after all. Ever one of the victims was running around with his/her attacker’s wife/husband. It must be love. Although ever one of their asses is in jail now. Come to think of it, you reckon it could be part of their plan to get thrown in the hoosegow together where nothin will interrupt gametime? You reckon?’ Or do you think they’re so crazy they’re willing, nay eager, to get rid of anybody who actually enjoys playting the game, in which case infidenlity would have absolutely nothing to do with any of this?” —-  Thoreau Maskin. Spuemout Press. Box 666. Hell, MI 48169. Copyright December 2008. Page 371.

(20100119) “‘Success, fellows! Finally, the slow-witted jackasses have put us behind bars where we can spend 24/7 perfecting our game! By the time we’re out of here in 8-to-10, we’ll be ready to show the world some REAL Scrabble (copyright til you die) talent. Too bad this cell is not coed; we could all double our pleasure. And those bloody fools thought we were fighting over those fripperous spouses of ours, not knowing we were all looking for a way to get rid of those precious hours we wasted everyday pretending interest in them and our kids and our homes! Hahaha, the joke is on them and the board is on the floor. CHALLENGE!’ E. Lee Tist turned to one of the turnkeys he had bribed to act as word judge, his face that of a maniac, his wife and her lover already forgotten.” —- ” Thoreau Maskin. Spuemout Press. Box 666. Hell, MI 48169. Copyright December 2008. Page 444.

(20100130) “In the last days of Scrabble’s (copyright til you die) dominion over Earth’s Scrabble (copyright til you die) lemmings, the polar ice caps will surrender secrets they’ve kept buried for millennia, often for a very long time, as they melt, pouring more water into a bathtub that’s already dripping, its overflow useless; many false prophets will raise their tiles in supplication to the gods of the bags declaring themselves, each, to be the only true and rightful heir of Alfred Butts. The name of one shall have a name akin to the irritating call of a bird; another shall justify his claim as the direct descendant of William the Conqueror in a voice that will echo loudly, yet falsely, across the canyon floor; yet another shall be given the name illuminative of a ginsu knife. Dissension will continue to heighten into the third decade of the 21st century. In spite of seemingly impossible odds against her… the wielder of steel shall prevail and finally bring to Earth a return of a peacable game which will once again attract peaceable fun lovers. The ratings fever shall be broken once and for all; peace will reign forever and ever in the land we called the Tile Land. The malcontents will rest in Davy Jones’ locker. A decade long celebration will ensue.” —- (Thoreau Maskin. Scrabble [copyright til you die] Is No Metaphor for Life, We Say! We say Scrabble is the True Way, the Sole True Path to Ecstatic Oblivion. © January 2010. Page 111. Spuemout Press. Hell MI 48169.

(201000211) “Plans to bring democracy to Scrabble (copyright til you die) have thrown the game’s fledgling autocratic group into chaos, I am told by Texas insiders. They apparently have been stunned by the one weapon that could destroy them, that of allowing members of an organization to have a voice in its rules and activities. ‘They weren’t intimidated at all by the money issue,’ a source said, ‘or any of those other issues that had raised some ire these past few months; they coulda handled that. They would even have consented to give elite players an advisory voice. But you should see how they fear the popularity of a group that promises to open itself to all members all the time, including neophytes and mediocre tournament players. Yet there is no plan in Texas to place their fate in the hands of commoner Scrabble (copyright til you die) players.” —- Thoreau Maskin. The Daily Scrabble Babble. February 11, 2010. Spuemout Press. Box 666. Hell, MI 48169. Copyright June 2010.  All Rights Reserved (but copy til you die, anyhow!)

(20100305) “‘I care not a whit for your puerile quibbling,’ growled E. Lee Tist. ‘I throw myself into the arena which is the true battleground of the soul – the Scrabble (copyright til you die) board where intellects clash like thunder one against the other, where tension grows thicker than New England clam chowder, where victory raises the ego skyward and defeat turns the finest champion into a scrawny dog running from the whip with its tail tucked into its yellow belly. I’ve lost my wife to achieve my fame. I’ve spurned my children, my church and all my former friends at the ELKS Club to devote myself to this game. Because it makes me feel alive! And Powerful! When I rise from a Scrabble (Copyright til you die) victory, for a few moments I know first hand, up close and personal, just how Alexander the Great and Genghis Kahn felt as they stood in the bloody aftermath of victory. Democracy? Pfui on democracy. Bring me more victims!'” —- Thoreau Maskin. The Ravings of a Scrabble (copyright til you die) Madman in the 21st Century. Spuemout Press. Box 666. Hell, MI 48169. Copyright March 2010.  All Rights Reserved (but copy til you die, anyhow!)

(20100323) “Recent findings of a scientific study have revealed that Scrabble (copyright til you die) genius, although technically transferrable from generation to generation, is not being seen in new generations. The reason, says geneticist Dr. Pahp U. Less, is as simple as there are no new generations forthcoming.  People playing at the highest level of the word game are not producing new little Scrabble (copyright til you die). ‘They’re, to a man (or woman) so singleminded that they have left no time in their lives for procreation. They are possessed by demons/gods that bind them to their beloved Scrabble (copyright til you die) boards. When they’re gone, they’re gone!'” —- Thoreau Maskin. The Ravings of a 21st Century Scrabble (copyright til you die) Madman. Spuemout Press. Box 666. Hell, MI 48169. Copyright March 2010. Page 273. All Rights Reserved (but copy til you die, anyhow!)

(20100405) “A group of Scrabble (copyright til you die) playing parents are protesting results of a recent scientific study which shows truly gifted Scrabble (copyright til you die) players don’t have children. ‘We’re all among the highest ranked players in the country,’ said group spokesperson Iam High Brow, ‘and we all have children. This studying is fake; it’s insulting; and, if we had more time, we’d sue.’ Researcher Dr. Pahp U. Less responded, ‘Facts are facts. Either these people had children before they emersed themselves in the game or their children are adopted or they’re not actually good enough to be in the elite ranks of Scrabble (copyright til you die) ranks. I stand by my research’s conclusions.'” —- Thoreau Maskin. The Ravings of a 21st Century Scrabble (copyright til you die) Madman. Spuemout Press. Box 666. Hell, MI 48169. Copyright March 2010. Page 278. All Rights Reserved (but copy til you die, anyhow!)

(20100422) “The meeting will now come to order! We’re gathered to declare our independence from the heavy hands of those who would squeeze the last vestige of joy from the game we love so. Down with tyranny. We must go where we all are equal, none better, none worse. Mediocrity at its finest. Except, of course, first, in order to form a more perfect union, the most perfect equals among us will lead the rest of you to the great equalitarian nirvana in the night sky. Rah! Rah! Rah!” —- B. I. Got, BS, addressing a meeting of  CESS, the Crepuscular Egalitarian Scrabble (copyright til you die) Society. April 13, 2010. Hell, Michigan. [as reported by Thoreau Maskin in the Daily Scrabble (copyright til you die) Babble.]

(20100515) “CESS (the Crepuscular Egalitarian Scrabble (copyright til you die) today announced it has delayed free elections for an unspecified period of time. ‘Our executive committee needs more time to define the terms which form the very foundation of our group,’ said B. I. Got, BS, founder and temporary chair. ‘You know, stuff like what kind of equality we will epitomize within the Scrabble (copyright til you die) community  and whether our free spirits will be patterned after the Greeks or Brits or even us North Americans. Can’t be too careful.'” —- Thoreau Maskin, reporter. The Daily Scrabble (copyright til you die) Babble. Hell MI. May 9, 2010.cour

(20100529) “High officials of BP (British Petroleum) plan to blame the huge oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico on a wealthy Scrabble (copyright till you die) player who, they will claim, in a fury of frustration, hurled a bomb over the side of the cruise ship on which he had just lost a game to a lesser-rated opponent. We’re awaiting the formal press release from BP and confirmation from the Obama White House.” —- Thoreau Maskin, reporter. The Daily Scrabble (copyright til you die) Babble. Hell MI. May 27, 2010.

(20100616) “The Supreme Court of the United States agrees elitist scrabble (copyright til you die) players are infertile. The justices earlier this month ruled, 5-4, to disallow claims to the estate of the late Iam G. Reat by a man purporting to be a son. “It is the decision of this Court that active elitism in scrabble (copyright till you die) precludes procreation,” reads the majority opinion, in part. Therefore the plaintiff’s claims to inheritance are invalid since he was conceived during the height of the late Reat’s scrabble (copyright til you die) career.” “My findings are vindicated at last,” chirped Dr. Pahp U. Less, the researcher who last year uncovered the connection between top scrabble (copyright till you die) players and infertility. Apparently that sense of entitlement (elitism) is limited to a single generation, non-hereditary, ego.” —- Thoreau Maskin, reporter. The Daily Scrabble (copyright til you die) Babble. Hell MI. June 15, 2010.

(20100515) “CESS (the Crepuscular Egalitarian Scrabble (copyright til you die) today announced it has delayed free elections for an unspecified period of time. ‘Our executive committee needs more time to define the terms which form the very foundation of our group,’ said B. I. Got, BS, founder and temporary chair. ‘You know, stuff like what kind of equality we will epitomize within the Scrabble (copyright til you die) community  and whether our free spirits will be patterned after the Greeks or Brits or even us North Americans. Can’t be too careful.'” —- Thoreau Maskin, reporter. The Daily Scrabble (copyright til you die) Babble. Hell MI. May 9, 2010.

(20100627) “A perfect score in the Scrabble boardgame has resulted in the death of at least one tournament competitor, according to a coroner’s jury in Aughtland, New Zealand. Nixie S. Core died a week Tuesday, two days after achieving a 7.5 – 7.5 (win-loss) with a cumulative point total of zero. ‘The resulting lack of both upward and downward pressure on Mr. Core’s psyche created a critical buildup of inner calmness,’ said a coroner’s spokesperson. ‘The heart, without that pressure, simply stops, as if it has lost motivation to beat. In a sense you might say ecstasy killed our friend Nixie Core.’ Although there has been increasing speculation of the effects of reaching perfect neutrality in Scrabble scoring, this is apparently the first documented case of death by nothingness.'” —- Thoreau Maskin, reporter. The Daily Scrabble (copyright til you die) Babble. Hell MI. June 28, 2010.

(20100724) “An underground network has begun promoting perfect mediocrity in Scrabble (copyright til you die), so say members of the network who talked with this reporter only if they remain anonymous (“We fear painful retribution from super elitists who have resorted to using their own money to finance countering campaign promoting excellence and maximizing scores.”). ‘Participants in the Dallas Nationals coming up in early August will find a number of network members ready to help them attain perfect neutrality in their games with a list of suggestions for strategy and a hug,” said one source. You can identify them by the bright yellow hats they will wear.'” —- Thoreau Maskin, reporter. The Daily Scrabble (copyright til you die) Babble. Hell MI. July 24, 2010.

(20100815) “Improvement was obvious throughout all divisions of the recent national scrabble (copyright til you die) competition in Texas, according to supporters of the nascent movement which encourages Scrabble (copyright til you die). to achieve pure mediocrity. ‘No one, as far as I know, actually transcended this earthly plane on the wings of zero zero,’ said self-styled spokesperson Ewell U. Leight, ‘but I personally saw a score of players begin turning translucent before their efforts broke down. I have been assured through meditation that a special special reward awaits truly mediocre Srabble (copyright til you die) players in the afterlife: an opportunity to attain ever higher levels! What a prospect.'” —- Thoreau Maskin, reporter. The Daily Scrabble (copyright til you die) Babble. Hell MI. August 15, 2010.

(20100830) “She awoke with a yawn as she stretched her arms to embrace the new day. Slowly, she turned to absorb the last drops of the previous evening’s most pleasant interlude. ‘My god,’ she cried as she jumped from the bed,’my god,’ I couldn’t possibly have been that drunk! Oh my god, my god, my god! Her beseechments for a higher power to eradicate the past twelve hours of her life brutalized her companion’s dream in which he was reaching out for the award for Scrabble (copyright til you die) player of the year on planet Earth. ‘Whhhhaaa?’ As he recoiled from her outburst. ‘You drugged me, you you you wretched creature you! You knew, you know, I’d never think of sleeping with one of you you self-absorbed elitist players. You somehow misled me into thinking you were normal. I’m ruined forever. You you told me the problem was too much booze. Now I can see it was only your rating!'” —- Thoreau Maskin. “Confessions of a Scrabble Pariah.” 2010. Spuemout Press. Hell MI. Page 27.

(20100920) “A group of self-anointed “upper class” Scrabble (copyright till you die) players say they have pooled their genes, literally, in an effort to herd their ilk back from the brink of extinction and in a direct attack on the burgeoning movement toward perfect mediocrity within the Scrabble (copyright till you die) community. Reproductive scientists tell us 99.1% of Scrabble (copyright till you die) elitists are sterile, unable to reproduce their arrogant little selves, short of cloning (asexual reproduction). ‘We are urging all male and female elite players to be tested for viability of their sperm or eggs’, said a spokesperson for S.A.T.I.N.E. (Scrabblers Attempting To (have) Intercourse (for) New Embryos who spoke only on the condition of anonymity. ‘This will provide us with the wherewithal to propagate an otherwise dying species. We can’t imagine a world filled with perfectly happy Scrabble (copyright til you die) players.” —- Thoreau Maskin, reporter. The Daily Scrabble (copyright til you die) Babble. Hell MI. September 20, 2010.

(October 21, 2010) The proclamation read, ‘Henceforth there shall be no new births among alien Scrabble (copyright til you die) groups.’ The self-appointed head of the masterboard slowly raised his head. ‘We find ourselves in imminent danger of rebellion,’ he droned. ‘At least one splinter group has dared speak independent of us, spilling godonlyknows what vile against our pure and lofty game. The only way to contain this is to reduce the rebels’ birthrate to zero. There will be no exceptions, upon pain of permanent forfeiture. This rebellion will be stopped in its tracks and stopped now. You have been warned.'”

“The New Board Rebellion.” Spuemout Press. Hell, MI. 2010. Page 125. Thoreau Maskin.

 

 

(December 3, 2010) Members of a dissident Scrabble (copyright til you die) group have filed for a legal injunction against what they call the obsessive effort of elitist parents in their group to pound their children into clones of themselves at the Scrabble (copyright til you die) board. “Those children are forced to memorize long lists of meaningless words up to 5 hours a day without any consideration at all for their needs as developing human beings,” said Ima Goodun, spokesperson for the splinter group. “We’re asking the federal courts order these people to cease and desist and give these kids their lives back before they’ve completely lost their childhoods.” So far, no comment from the elitist-driven group. A hearing is set for early January in Dallas. – Thoreau Maskin

The Daily Scrabble (copyright til you die) Babble. Hell MI. December 2, 2010.

 

Written by frankieleeee

September 21, 2010 at 1:37 pm