Powder Magazine

I'm not a huge fan of Powder Magazine, but I happened to come across article at their website. Enjoy!

DRUGGED MONKEY: The Origins of the Whistling Turnip
Given the success of various endeavors, as exemplified by the army of clitori (maybe the first plural usage of clitoris ever) standing at attention like little Vienna sausages, we decided that our next business move would need to be just as bold. We liked the craze that exploded out of the Livestrong bracelets and decided we would create that next fad and the object we decided would best do that for us would be giant dream catcher necklaces made out of boondoggle. They'd hang down to waist level and come in 3 colors that showed support for our various charities: Necrophilia Persecution Awareness, Nicaraguan Horse Prostitution, and senate bill #8735 the "Hot Girls Must Wear Thongs" manifesto. So we headed out to several Indian reservations in the hopes of finding the Great Boondoggle Shaman.

We did our best to befriend the noble people and even spent time shooting street signs and drinking hairspray, but no matter how many times we asked, they pretended they had never heard of the Great Boondoggle Shaman. It was then that "Shaves with Foam" gave me a small toad and told me to lick its skin. The ground beneath my feet began to move downward as my eyes rolled backward to watch the movie inside. The whistling turnip was back. He'd foiled most of my earlier attempts at fame. He was always one step ahead, but this time he was just sitting there, whistling as he always did. I wondered if the whistling turnip had always just lived inside my head. It was then that I approached the turnip wearing my emotions (brand sleeve cover) on my sleeve. I remembered the time he stole my sure-to-be number one panflute rap album I'd been working on. I remembered the time he set fire to my telepathic pasta making experiment. And even the time he threw out my bathwater with the baby. (That water had at least 2 more good baths in it.) I whistled my grievances to the turnip and I listened intently as he whistled his reply. It was about then I realized that "Shaves with Foam", "Runs with Scissors" and the mystical toad were playing Prussian Roulette (which involves 3 potatoes, an angry fisherman, and the complete works of John Tesh). I knew things weren't going to end well so I headed for the casino and ate a boiled bag of eggs. After paying the Rooter service I wished I would have removed the bag before eating the eggs.