Mequillers (January 1st – February 22nd): As the Winter Knight approaches to slay the Warmth Family with its Spear of Frozen Tyranny, you’ll have to pull out all of your secret techniques to defend Mr. and Mrs. Warmth. The skill to destroy winter waits to be awakened inside of your desolate soul. Like a phoenix rising from a trashcan, you’ll need to employ a few Sunset Scissor Kicks to the throat of the Winter Knight to discourage its assault. Once the Winter Knight staggers, hum the chant of Hotness Harry and the Winter Knight will begin to sweat until he is nothing but a puddle of disappointment. Praise the sun, you’ve thwarted Winter. For now. Don’t forget to pick the kids up from Autumn Camp.
Suavacots (February 23rd – May 9th): Last week you let a taco take over your stomach. Unfortunately, this was the wrong horoscope. We confused quesadilla with taco. There should be a quesadilla in your stomach. Anyways, this week you need to take back control of your stomach kingdom! To do so, you’ll want to acquire an apple, avocado, anchovies, arugula and a bow and arrow. Tie yourself to a boxcar, eat the aforementioned ingredients, and shoot an arrow into a mail sack along the rail way. The mail will spill out and inside will be a letter of resignation from your taco.
Rumstins (May 10th – July 4th): As the paper overflows into the paper-eater, you’re faced with a path that could shape your life forever. Do you create an army of origami from the surplus paper? You’d be the Commander in Chief of your paper army, a nugget that would look great on your resume. With that accolade, you might even be qualified for that job in Paperopolis you wanted! On the other hand, you can eat the paper. Like a goat. Do you want to be a goat or a commander?
Mopens (July 5th – September 6th): Those whiskers you keep in a jar represent an opportunity lost. Or does it signify an opportunity you’re waiting for? A ship to dock in your port? A bathroom that cleans itself? A cat that has gone missing? Or a dog you’re waiting to train? Or a train you’re waiting to dog? Do yourself a favor and apply glue to your face. Wear those whiskers. Your fate shouldn’t be tethered to a lonely pole, only to be tossed to and fro by the wind caused by the laughter of your peers. It’s almost Halloween, so with whiskers on your face you may stumble upon an early box of candy.
Weavapots (September 7th – December 31st): Dig a hole for your heart / drop it in and do your part / to clean up the broken pieces on the floor / show that sorrow to the door / Pave a future in the dark / and teach a
Mequillers (January 1st – February 22nd): If you’re facing a fortnight’s worth of stinky cream cheese, you’ll have to learn to take better care of the dump you call a “Cream cheese shoe.” No one ever agreed with you and your foul promise to build the perfect shoe for cream cheese. No one asked for this. Is what you will resign yourself to for the rest of your days? Break your vow and ditch those stinky shoes. Cream cheese was never meant for walking and there’s no reason to force a foot into a shoe that doesn’t fit.Suavacots (February 23rd – May 9th): Obtain inner piece in ten easy steps. 1) Eat a taco. 2) Digest taco shell. 3) Pardon yourself when you burp up taco shrapnel. 4) Manage to reconstruct the taco in your stomach using only your washboard abs and mental constitution. 5) Eat a scepter. 6) Crown the taco as the second coming of your stomach. 7) Present it the scepter. 
Let the taco reign over your stomach citizens with a fair and crunchy fist. 9) Maintain the taco’s kingdom after it passes, making sure that the taco’s son takes the throne. 10) Repeat.
Let the taco reign over your stomach citizens with a fair and crunchy fist. 9) Maintain the taco’s kingdom after it passes, making sure that the taco’s son takes the throne. 10) Repeat.
Rumstins (May 10th – July 4th): The frozen fence keeps out those with cold hearts and torn gloves. Can you overcome the icy kingdom and penetrate the fortress of moccasins? As winter comes, you may become more desperate to climb that fence. Your fingernails tearing into the ice creating a carpet of ice chips. Hey, maybe you shouldn’t focus on those moccasins you’re fighting for. You did create a carpet of ice chips and you need to take responsibility. What if your carpet melts? Or someone slips and falls? Do you have a carpet lawyer? The repercussions could be catastrophic if you’re not careful. I’ve heard of legendary hobos having their lives destroyed by an ice-carpet lawsuit.
Mopens (July 5th – September 6th): Can you fit your life into a backpack? If you can’t maybe you’re too busy. I’m sorry, did I say life? I meant Pife. A Pife is a hybrid animal of a python and a wife. Why would anyone marry a python? There’s a legendary tale of a man who needed a wife to take to the wedding. He hated showing up to events stag ever since a ghoulish stag destroyed his award winning hammock. Anyways, the man needed a wife for a date, but the wife-shop was fresh out. Distraught, the man stuck his hands in his pocket with the sadness of a thousand crows. He felt around and, by god, there was a coupon for a free python in his pocket! And a python store just opened up to the wife store! The rest was Pife history, The moral? Coupons aren’t a bad way to save money.
Weavapots (September 7th – December 31st): Grab your fork and go to work / Spin that spaghetti and tangle up the pork / Sell that pork to a boy / Tell him that it’s his birthday toy / The boy’s birthday may have been saved / and your future was surely paved / With the charitable pork and spaghetti combo / you can quit your day job as a full-time dancer of the mambo.
Mequillers (January 1st – February 22nd): What do monkeys do when they’re hungover? They glop a barrel of bananas down their throat. Does that help them? No, probably not. It just makes their insides all mushy and stinky. Stinky insides equals funky fur. This is exactly where Bonzi Buddy came from. I’m only telling you this because I’m worried you might have a drinking problem. Or a banana problem.
Suavacots (February 23rd – May 9th): The funny thing about life is that you don’t actually get timeouts. You at least get a set number of timeouts in football, and an unlimited amount in baseball. It’s irritating to think that we can’t hold up our hand-t and let everyone know that we’ve removed ourselves from the game of life for a moment. If you find yourself needing a timeout, hop on a rusty train and don’t look back. You’ll know you’re ready to return to civilization and slap fives when that train calls a timeout of its own. Trains are people, too.
Rumstins (May 10th – July 4th): Fall is breathing down your hairy neck, its cool whiskers scraping against your anti-whisker net, and its breath stinks of potpourri. Your bones ache with every pumpkin you bite into, but you’re hopelessly addicted to the seasonal offerings. Is it because you are only exposed to these items a quarter of the year? You’ll need to begin digging your “Fall Only Bunker” next week.
Mopens (July 5th – September 6th): Having a carpet installed on your stairs is something a coward would do. If you’re afraid of stairs, just replace them with ramps, don’t try to brush your fears under the rug. Either embrace the steps or proceed to slide. Your rump will send you a thank you note and will take you to the Moonshine Garden for unlimited beards and slaps.
Weavapots (September 7th – December 31st): As the rain drops fall into the well / you’ll have to ponder the merits of hell / do they accept the euro down below? / or will you have to take a sack full of pesos?/ Will El Diablo make you tacos on the go? / No, the devil isn’t into that sort of Joe.
Mequillers (January 1st – February 22nd): What’s that tickling the bottom of your oil barrel? Surplus grease? A smoldering ham? Maybe a terrifying amount of ash from that moldy baseball collection you tried to burn? Hush, it’s none of those sentimental things. It’s probably just a manifestation of your deepest darkest secrets you’ve been harboring from the ones you love and care about. Yes, it’s that feeling you get when you tightly grip a rusty hammer or that tingling sensation in your toes when you hear an owl choking on a rabbit who swallowed one too many berries, if you know what I mean. To rid yourself of this debris and let your fire burn like your ancestors wanted, you’ll need to perform the Red Baron Purge. The Red Baron Purge is when you take your oil barrel to the highest point on Moonshine Mountain, climb in, and rocket down the cliffs, all the while reciting the Red Baron Pledge: In this barrel / I thee sit / and when I tumble out of control / I’ll know that it’s because of the weight on my soul / and I’ll let go / and wait for my barrel to turn red.
Suavacots (February 23rd – May 9th): Your beard curls at the tip as the humidity-dams are unleashed into the atmosphere. I know it’s frustrating, especially since you sat in on that council meeting expressing your concerns about unleashing those dams. What can you do when your neighbors are addicted to the sweet sticky salvation that is humidity? You could have dug up some of the dead to help you vote. Lord knows the dead hate the humidity. That’s all in the past, though. Now, you’ll have to beat the humidity the only way you know how: by playing as many .midi files as you can find. It sounds odd, but it’s right in the name. The longer and louder you play the music, the less humidity will float in the air. Your beard will calm down, your sweat will stay locked up in your body, and you will be able to breathe easier. Music can calm more than your typical demon.
Rumstins (May 10th – July 4th): As a Rumstin, you may find yourself drinking more moonshine than others. That’s okay! You’re a Rumstin! But drinking more moonshine does come with some vicious consequences. Hangovers are a daily occurrence, your pants are always a bit more moist than others, your breathe reeks of the cinnamon aftertaste that accompanies moonshine, and your stomach only accepts hoagies. While the sloppy kiss of moonshine is delightful, you may be better off joining an improv group that only pretends to drink copious amounts of moonshine. You’ll not only save money in the long run, but your stomach will work itself out so you can eat something other than hoagies. I believe the Holographic Hobo Improv Group meets every Wednesday by the Fidgeting Forest.
Mopens (July 5th – September 6th): The Salami Séance is this Saturday and do you know what you want to ask your kindred spirits for? While everyone else in your circle is begging for the super-secret salami code, you’ll have the perfect opportunity to ask the dead a question they actually want to answer. The question you ask shouldn’t be about a boxcar or a pair of shoes. Nor should it be about any deli meat. You’ll need to search deep within your shopping cart to find the question to ask. Gaze deep into your cart, past the egg cartons, expired shoelaces, and bucket of whimsy. Next to your loaf of manufactured Cinnamon raisin bread will be a question. Ask that question to the dead and be sure to tip the soul with a gift from your cart.
Weavapots (September 7th – December 31st): Is that a knot in your heart? / Give it a pull so then you can start / to grow and strive to be a hobo / who worships more than the golden oboe / with a heart beating fast / you will not worry about auditioning to be in the cast / you can write your own pilot for your life / and cut the cobbler with your trusted knife / take a bow and catch a rose / gobble down a fire hose / extinguish the flames in your bowels / follow that up by eating some towels / wave goodbye to your fears / and in a jar you’ll keep your tears.
Mequillers (January 1st – February 22nd): Is your blood sugar low? Does it wobble to and fro? There’s a way to correct that woe, and it’s not by catching the Mystical Diabetes Dragon. You’ll actually be looking for the Spectacular Diabetes Dragon. It’s a fine line, like calling a Christa a Christy, but it’s important to remember the differences. You know, lesser hobos have been killed by subtlety. What makes matters worse is that the Mystical Diabetes Dragon and the Spectacular Diabetes Dragon live together in the same, boring, suburban condo. When you knock on the door you can summon one or the other by giving two and 8/9ths of a knock on that door. I forgot who that summons, but just ask around. I hope your sugar problem is fixed swiftly!
Suavacots (February 23rd – May 9th): Sometimes your problems need to get together and hash it out. Put your debt woes, canoe worries, relationship ruffles, and monkey madness into a pod and make them go camping. Your troubles will trip over each other’s ego and they will struggle to produce the sparks necessary to light the kindle. After many failed attempts, they will realize how terrible they are and call it quits. They’ll shake hands/paws/claws/tentacles and agree to vanish, never to bother a person again. Then you’ll be problem free! Solutions have never been more simple.
Rumstins (May 10th – July 4th): What is it with those fetishes that aren’t as popular as others? It’s cool to eat shoes or do some of your kissing while you rub your belly and pat their head, but what about the super-incredulous fetishes? What’s wrong with rubbing a beard against someone’s scalp or collecting your yawns inside a bottle only to let them ripen and then unleash them into a loin cloth? Nothing! You should find your most socially-deemed demented fetish and make a billboard out of it. Into shaking back and forth wildly? Get it on a billboard! Into dressing alligators up like lawyers? Get it on a billboard!
Mopens (July 5th – September 6th): Pickled polka dots aren’t selling so well these days. In fact, they’re selling like hotcakes sold before hotcakes were very popular (many do not know that the hotcakes craze was part of a re-branding initiative by the Hot Industry in the 1920’s. Hot cakes existed well before then, but no one paid any attention.). While your passion lies in pickled polka dots, you need a viable way to sustain your life without giving up on your hobby. I present to you: time management. Work a 9-5 or a 12-6 or an 8-nacho. Get some cash, and then when you come home, talk about how terrible your co-workers are as you pickle polka dots. It’s a way to soothe your heart and line your pocket book.
Weavapots (September 7th – December 31st): The duck stole the hot dog / the cabbage was eaten by the soul frog / and what’s left is a couple scraps of Todd’s pogs. / Is your pocket watch safe in your breast? / if not, you’ll have to join the pocket watch protest. / Grab a picket and jump in line / don’t forget to bring that box of wine. / Sing a song about where you belong / and walk in circles all night long.
Mequillers (January 1st – February 22nd): An ode to a toilet paper roll is called into question when you’re not honoring the true sacrifice and merit of the toilet paper roll. The toilet paper roll is the keystone to your bathroom experience and without such a roll your bathroom experience would be nothing less than hellish. To properly thank the gods for creating such an amazing device, you’ll need to construct a large tunnel made from leftover rolls. When this tunnel reaches the toilet gods in the sky, send your most precious hamster through with a hand-written note. Don’t use Pig Latin. They hate that.
Suavacots (February 23rd – May 9th): Do your teeth wiggle when your waggle? Do your geese gaggle when you giggle? Something seems a bit off, but there’s no way of knowing for sure. I mean, there is one way of knowing, but that would require an incredibly complex machine being built that lets your peer into alternate dimensions. What are the odds of you having six rusty twenty-sided dice, an old bag of pop-corn, eighty gallons of gasoline, fifteen stocks of corn, a stocking stuffed by Santa and a wheelbarrow anyways? If you happen to somehow inherit those things, you’ll be well on your way to solving your problem! But you don’t, and you never will, so you’re stuck never knowing if life is a bit off or if this is how things are to be.
Rumstins (May 10th – July 4th): Life is often compared to roller coasters, but why? Let’s look at the two beasts. Roller coasters: You wait in line with an incredibly large souvenir cup filled with sugar, water and hazardous syrups. Life: You frolic through a field with a nicely weaved basket filled with picnic items just incase you run into a roller coaster engineer or the person of your dreams. Now, why in the world would anyone philosopher/king/centipede compare the two to one another? It’s ridiculous. Your life isn’t a roller coaster so stop making those comparisons now.
Mopens (July 5th – September 6th): The hoagie boat merrily comes down the stream, but will you board its greasy poop deck with a scream or esteem? It’s a difficult choice, whether or not to enter the hoagie boat, but maybe this isn’t a choice you’ll be making alone. Find a mate, or at least a date, and ask them what they would do in your situation. “Would you get on the hoagie boat?” you ask, as some capicola falls out of your mouth, presumably to its death. “I’m not sure. Probably,” your pal will say. Then, together, you’ll board the hoagie boat for a better tomorrow.
Weavapots (September 7th – December 31st): Rain comes trickling down / but that’s okay, you’ve been out of tow. / You arrive back home to find your mailbox / is home to the disgusting mail fox / you coax it out with some lima beans / but all it does it get real mean. / You can call for help or for a friend / but we all know how this will end. / To remove a fox from your mailbox / the only solution is to introduce an ox.
Sometimes we get special guest submissions. This recipe for Hobo Hoagies was provided by a lil’ hobo we call Chrystal Carchug. These are the perfect treats for a hot and smelly Labor Day!
Hobo Hoagies
Serves 4 3/4 of a hobo
Ingredients:
1 loaf stale bread
6 dirty socks (soak in mud overnight for increased flavor)
1 lb. moldy cheese
4 C. Moonshine
3 tsp. of your favorite grain alcohol
dash of freeze-dried perspiration
Directions:
- Mix socks, cheese, moonshine, grain alcohol, and freeze-dried perspiration in a large kettle. Heat, but do not bring to a boil as this will sanitize the dish and it will no longer be edible.
- As the ingredients begin to heat, burp into the kettle to add a hint of digestive odor.
- Use a rusty can to remove ingredients from kettle and slop them onto your stale bread.
- Eat and enjoy!
Tip: Any leftovers can be saved for tomorrow’s breakfast. Refrigerate in one of Ronald’s Refrigerators.
Mequillers (January 1st – February 22nd): Galloping alongside the ghost you reach out for its wispy mane. You grab ahold of with the strength of Thor, but is it enough to take down a ghost that just woke up from a 4 hour nap? Sure, the ghost is still awfully groggy, but it is a ghost. At this point in time you have a decision to make–do you abandon your horse friend and tackle this groggy ghost or do you nod to the ghost knowingly and abandon all hope. Just remember – horses are half glue.
Suavacots (February 23rd – May 9th): Inside the coat your heart is warm and purring like a kitten inside a…coat. Outside of the coat your limbs fight and argue about which limb is the most coherent and who is the one that drank all the booze last night. Your face is in a permanent scowl, your elbows aren’t sure which way they’re suppose to bend and your thighs have never felt friskier. Your body, once an amazing temple and a testament to homeostasis, has lost its keystone. You must restore peace to your body before attending that hat tournament.
Rumstins (May 10th – July 4th): Throwing cards fifty-two times a day is a great way to get your child taken away from you. “We’re playing,” you say, but you and your child both know that there’s nothing less fun than just throwing cards off a bridge. “I’d rather eat dry paint, or watch my grass garden grow. You promised me I could watch my grass garden today!” the child protest. Those screams and cries haunt your thoughts (both your day and night thoughts). Maybe throw something more fun. Try throwing a melon which causes a ripple effect of giddiness. Or throw a beautiful glass vase which shatters into a thousand pieces of curiosity and wonder.
Mopens (July 5th – September 6th): There was this one time I was so mad I punched a hole in the wall. My hand was pulsing with anger, but I didn’t pay any attention to it. I was too preoccupied with the treasure trove of postcards I discovered. There’s a good chance that you, the one reading this now, has a fist or two and I am willing to bet you know a wall that needs a good punching. Go punch wall after wall until you find your personal treasure. You may not find postcards, but I bet you can find a ton of gold. Walls love to eat gold. If you do find any postcards why not write your biggest fear on it and mail it to yourself. You’ll get the postcard back a week later, forgetting you sent it to yourself. Out loud you’ll say, “What kind of dummy would be afraid of fried cheetos?” Then you realize that it was you. You are afraid of fried cheetos.
Weavapots (September 7th – December 31st): The stewardess clicks her heels one last time / You’re waiting patiently for that mime / this airplane you’re on was overbooked / and you think you’re shifting into a crook / but out of your eyeball in the world you hear / a long lost voice, you could have sworn it’s been years / listening hard you forget your coat / and that’s when you forgot you didn’t drain the moat. / Vacation ruined.
Mequillers (January 1st – February 22nd): A poster competition sits in your backyard. You are tasked with designing a poster that motivates and discourages. This paradoxical poster challenge will test your balance and your ability to tread icy waters as adrenaline blast through your veins like a high-speed train. What image will you choose for your schizophrenic poster? A hamster inside a hamster? Or a monochrome rainbow leading into a pot of sugar free brownies?
Suavacots (February 23rd – May 9th): The color in your life is overwhelming. Your eyes have given up on understanding the full gamut of colors long ago. Sure, it could see infrared and all those other neat flavors on the spectrum, but what’s the point? You get a box of crayons and that’ll make you happy. But are you missing out on what could be your favorite color? Train your eyes to see colors that no one else has, then donate your eyes to a cyclops. They’ll appreciate the novelty for a while.
Rumstins (May 10th – July 4th): Have you ever thought about what would happen if a monkey owned a coffee shop? Hear me out! Instead of wasting stirrer after stirrer, you could just use the monkeys tail. There would be no need for small talk since the monkey just yips at people. Instead of tips you’d just have to beat your chest in agreement. There’d probably be a ton of bananas to pick from (as opposed to the lackluster selection plaguing modern day America). It would always be humid and a jungle soundtrack would accompany every sip. I don’t see what the problem is. Find a monkey to borrow and open up a coffee shop. “The best part of waking up is a monkey howling into your coffee.”
Mopens (July 5th – September 6th): The constellations shift as the fall breeze enters from stage left. Sure, it’ll be sad to see such fan-favorites depart (such as the new Monkey Coffee constellation and the infamous Knight’s Kneecap constellation) but in their absence new stars will bond together to form impressive pictures. For instance, you’ll have the Neptune Necromancer to stare at and the Talking Taco to show your friends. Maybe, if we’re lucky, the night sky will be graced by the Insanity Icebox constellation.
Weavapots (September 7th – December 31st): Did you forget your spoon at work? / Maybe it’s time you confront that jerk / it’s she or he who stole your tool / are you going to let them make you look like a fool? / Grab a mop and soak up your drool / and maybe think about going back to school / or opening up a large dog-only pool.
Mequillers (January 1st – February 22nd): Crawling along the desert floor is a dessert monster looking for the oasis of ice cream and sweets. You are also stumbling through this desert, but what do you do when you find this melty beast? Do you help the dessert monster to the oasis knowing that it will devour every last dessert in the world, or do you let it suffer and hopefully die so that desserts can flourish? Your decision, as insignificant as it seems, may change the world.
Suavacots (February 23rd – May 9th): Swallow those bubbles, as many as you can. One, two, three, four and five bubbles at once. Fill yourself up with the soapy delight and rise to the moon. Once you’re face-to-face to the lunar orb, challenge it to a hiccuping contest. The moon has never hiccuped once and you’ll surely be victorious. What will be wagered? Not cheese, but a bag of peas. Space peas.
Rumstins (May 10th – July 4th): If you get in the habit of calling off sick there’s a terrible chance that you might be calling on sick to help you get out of greater pickles. You’ll call sick up to lend you money for rent and then you’ll ask sick to watch your puppies while you blow up the baby pool. Does this sound like a suitable future? Take some vitamins and avoid the sun.
Mopens (July 5th – September 6th): A turtle takes its shell with it wherever it pleases. Don’t you wish that you could take all your necessary tools with you wherever you went? Start small and tie a tool belt to your waist. Next, upgrade to Batman’s utility belt. Load that sucker up with a lot of really weird offensive/defensive weapons. After you feel comfortable with the utility belt, just tie utensils to a shell on your back. Here’s some things I would recommend bringing with you at all times: turtle wax, hot dogs, bananas, hammer, map, siren, knife, gun powder, beef jerky, lassos, and etc.
Weavapots (September 7th – December 31st): Is this generation for you, today? / Or should you have been born yesterday? Did you get a ‘meh’ when you wanted an ‘hey’/ this vacation is yours to stay / make a stencil and print it out / hand that stencil to those who pout / share your enthusiasm hour by hour / make something that isn’t sweet turn into something not-sour.
Mequillers (January 1st – February 22nd): When there’s an ice cream alert, who are you going to call? What about when there’s a slide emergency? Someone needs to get their sliding pants oiled up and it’s not going to be me. You need to be the dispatcher for these mundane events. Sure, they may seem mundane to us, but without you there to coordinate someone’s happiness we’ll be left with the ruins of joy and the dust of depression blowing up our skirts. Get a phonebook.
Suavacots (February 23rd – May 9th): Shaving has long been a mystery to men and woman across the seven seas. Is it even possible to win this war against the type of hair that refuses to stop growing after being sliced and diced week after week. And, are those that have embraced things like “beards” and “the stache” losers? Have they given up on life and liberty? A support group is in order. Bring the conditioner and I’ll bring the beard wax. No one leaves the room until we’re swimming in beards.
Rumstins (May 10th – July 4th): In a world where you’re surrounded by jars of pickles you’ll never eat, how do you justify your great expenses? You buy watermelon when you have four rotting in your purse. You purchase 15 dozen of eggs for a brunch that will never happen and then wait for the chicks to hatch before telling them their services won’t be needed. You even have the audacity to gargle fresh mouth wash EVERY time you gargle. Your wastefulness is a burden on this entire nation.
Mopens (July 5th – September 6th): What makes a horse so rideable? Is it the four legs? The strong heart? Magical mane? Stinky breath? Unorthodox neighing? It’s actually a combination of everything before the next punctuation mark. Horses evolved from a wish by mankind. The wish was heard by the great four legged god and granted mankind the beast we call “Horse.” Unfortunately, the great four legged god out did himself and everyone thought the horse was SO cool that all of mankind forgot about the great four legged god.
Weavapots (September 7th – December 31st): Is that a feather in the air? / fluttering by without a care / but what did it whisper into your ear? / “I have a gift for you, if you dare.” / And dare you did, cause you’re a daring soul / and soon you lept from the rafters into a hole / chasing that feather into the abyss / surely, your cunning wit will be missed.
Mequillers (January 1st – February 22nd): A caterpillar wiggles across the bristles of a broom, but you’re too busy focusing on the dirt and muck to notice. As a result, that caterpillar is crushed into a million pieces and you’re left with even more guts and a carcass to clean! You have two options. 1) Stop cleaning entirely. It just gets dirty again, so what’s the point? 2) Find a better place to decompose your carcass collection. Perhaps a garbage can? A closet? Or some sort of haunted cemetery?
Suavacots (February 23rd – May 9th): As you purchase goods from the traveling salesmen you’ll need to remember that you have to carry them home somehow, someway. Do you have a militia of friends waiting to pounce on any opportunity to help? Or at least a goat you can cover in your belongings. Maybe, just maybe, you shouldn’t be buying goods from the handsome traveling salesmen in the vein of flirtation.
Rumstins (May 10th – July 4th): When the cream rises to the crop who will be there to scoop it up? I once read about a mystic shovel that waits for its owner in the middle of a dense fog in the Shovel Woods. Every second you waste not looking for the shovel is another second the cream sits on top, waiting for its ride. You need to quit wasting time and go on a vision quest to find that shovel! You could be the one responsible for scooping up that cream!
Mopens (July 5th – September 6th): Last week you created many new shapes and symbols, but by doing so you’ve confused many of those who aren’t shapeologist. There’s one way to right this wrong, and that’s through an abundance of posters. You’ll need to design posters that explain exactly what your new shape is and educate the population that way. Otherwise, our shape economy will crumble into a million tiny quadriops.
Weavapots (September 7th – December 31st): Make the most out of that fish / for it is quite the delightful dish/ When you’re ready to make your dream come true / register yourself to learn kung-fu / there you’ll meet a melted mop / and you’ll turn it over to the cops.
Mequillers (January 1st – February 22nd): Sometimes a crystal ball not only reflects the near future, but the far-flung future. For the past few weeks we told you that it was imperative that you go outside. Unfortunately, many of you have written in complaining that you’ve suffered damage from the sun, bird droppings, carnivorous things, and other elements of our earth. We’re sorry for our askew prediction, but this week we mean it when we say you need to go outside more often. We promise you’ll find a net full of goodness and a sack to stuff your sorrows into. Then, you can throw your sorrow sack into a strong gust of wind and watch them sail off into the horizon like a balloon that escaped the feeble grasp of a child.
Suavacots (February 23rd – May 9th): A pirate raises its flag in victory. A deer raises its fawn in nature. A triceratops raises the price of its inventory during wartime. A pillow raises its thread count during the Winter months. And you? You’ll need to raise your moral fiber and presence as you open the gate to your 38th licorice swap party.
Rumstins (May 10th – July 4th): As the wheels on your vehicle of choice effortlessly glide over potholes, cracks, shattered glass, banana peels and H2O, what are you thinking about? Do you know what your tires do for you? What about those in your life that help keep the rhythm on your ‘slave ship’ of fun? Have you thanked those that paddle in sync with your band of banshees? Buy some envelopes and get to writing.
Mopens (July 5th – September 6th): A circle represents so much in this circus we call Monday. It’s the donut you grab in the morning, the shape of the sun that lights your journey and the secret password to your off-shore bank account. But, scientist have recently discovered that circles are passe. That’s right, no one really enjoys circles anymore. You need to create a new shape. Maybe a hybrid shape like the Sqircle? Or something entirely different like a Jopoin6. Those two are off-limits, but society looks forward to your submission.
Weavapots (September 7th – December 31st): Is that a horse inside your eye / I hope it has oats so it does not die / But who are we kidding, you zany sage? / There’s no such thing as an eye-horse this day and age / Grab some cereal and sprinkle it on the table / Huzzah, you just made a 2011 stable.
Sometimes at Hobo Digest we receive opinions from our community. Somewhere deep inside a hobo, next to the travel-organ and the moonshine-accordion, there’s a portion of the hobo that needs to have their thoughts heard. At Hobo Digest we’re more than happy to oblige. This post is from certified hobo author Jam Famine.
I have come from the future to warn you about … something
I made the first hobo time machine out of old washing machine and a dead crow and some old nails and a few other things. I climbed in and hit the button and I spun around a little and came here to the past to warn you about what’s going to happen! It’s going to get really, uh, bad. I think. Honestly I don’t really remember.
I wrote down what I came to warn you about! Here, l’Il fish it out of my pocket. There are a lot of papers in there, but I found the right one. It says “Warn the people of Moonshineopolis about the future.” Oh. That’s no help.
I think it had something to do with the weather. Has it rained recently? No? Oh, that must not be it then. I mean frogs, has it rained frogs? Oh, well that must not be it either.
Maybe robots will take over Mooneshineopolis and enslave all the hobos? I don’t think so, because one of the pieces of paper I found has my to-do list, and invent robots is right there at number five but invent time machine is number one, so it wouldn’t make sense for me to make a time machine to warn you about robots if I haven’t invented them yet.
I think just to be safe until I remember, everybody should just keep doing what they were doing, so nothing changes. If anybody does anything different than they normally would have done, then the reason I came back here might change and even if I remember why I came back here it won’t matter anymore because you all changed it! I’ll let you know when I figure it out.
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