Saturday, February 27, 2010

I Simply Do Not Know What to Think

There is no muleness whatsoever in this strange singer's demeanor, and yet somehow I am pulled in by his mysterious wiles. I am deeply unsettled, but irrestably drawn in. The music isn't half bad, actually, but there is something nightmarish about that vacant, lip-syncing smile. I am perplexed.

Wish me sweet dreams, dear readers. May they not be visited by the Trololo man.

Fenway Bartholomule


  1. Can we offer him temporary citizenship in this country as a slave? And then, of course, as soon as he's mastered hoof-care-while-singing for each of our hooved friends, we will set him free.

  2. Ooooo step away from the fescue, dude!

  3. Upupaepops . . . I hear ya! Littledog, perhaps we should ask him to complete some sort of twelve step program before we commit to anything quite so personal as letting him trim my toenails or those of my ungulate brethren.


Thanks in Advance for Your Mulish Opinion!