NOVEMBER 29, 2020
THE 22ND POODLESHOOT & BBQ
What with all the fires and power outages in NorCal, the Annual Poodleshoot report has been delayed. But this being the 21st Poodleshoot on the Island, there is no rushing to press on this.
It is hard to imagine that 20 years ago a daft group of lads decided to hold a humble Poodleshoot in defiance of misdirected sentiment, obnoxious aesthetics, and hideous twisting of values where an asinine species we will never truly understand gets more attention, devotion, and preference than members of our own species. It can be argued that in this present day in the 21st century we still have problems understanding each other, let alone another species.
20 years of Poodleshoots and still people lavish more attention and affection upon a miserable scrap of fur and teeth than suffering fellow human beings. Well, that is why the Poodleshoot came to be.
All that aside, the 20th Annual Poodleshoot proceeded as follows.
The annual Island Tradition took place again, beginning with the usual, traditional ceremonies.
gently she kissed the eyelids of the sleeping Padraic
As per Tradition, on the day of the 20th Annual Poodleshoot, rosy-fingered Dawn arose from the horizon's dark bed and pushed back the shutters of night to allow Phoebus to mount his golden chariot and so, preceding the day, she trailed her gauzy banners across the firmament, traveling across the yard from the battered old half-moon privy hard by the weeds to the house back porch, leaving behind a sort of dew after her passage. Gently, she flushed, and gently she tugged upon the coverlet, and gently she kissed the eyelids of the sleeping Padraic, but he stirred not. Gently she nudged the man, who only mumbled and snorted as he remained held fast in the soft, woolly folds of Morpheus. Playfully, she noodged him once again, but he remained walking in that shadow kingdom of the somnolent God.
Her fingers becoming rays of sunlight, turned the dial so as to allow the sweet strains of muse Calliope to thrum the air as guided by the goddess Rosalie Howarth of KFOG, but Padriac snored and stirred not.
Then Dawn reared back with her rosy fists upraised and brought them down heavily to smite Padraic a mighty thwack, and that got him up all right, for Dawn O'Reilly was not a woman to be trifled with at any time of the day. And so Padraic bestirred himself to make ready for the Annual Island Poodleshoot and BBQ.
So it was that Padraic rolled out the barrels of the Water of Life and set up the Pit for this year's festivities under bright, chill skies, which had cleared briefly from the storm clouds for the day, once again down by the disputed Crab Cove.
The ceremonies began with the traditional playing of the Paraguay National Anthem, as arranged by Terry Gilliam, and performed by the Island Hoophole Orchestra accompanied by the Brickbat Targets chorale ensemble. This piece has been favorably compared to John Phillip Sousa's Liberty Bell March, with which work the modality is inextricably entwined..
This was followed by the devilish meisterwerk composed by Marie Kane entitled, "Die Sieg der Satanische Landentwickler", an adaptable work which allows insertion of alta-contemporary chorales at the whim of the Conductor at the pleasure of any municipal governing body.
The ensemble group which has made something of a name for itself by inventing entirely new parts for voice, consisted of Mayor Izzy as soprano alla triste in the Misericordia segment and Councilperson Daysog as mezzo soprano mournful did a fair version of Iago's treacherous soliloquy, with former Councilperson Frank in his basso triste "You're Gonna Miss Me When I'm Gone" performance in the esoteric work La Chambre à l'arrière Enfumee Boogie by Brooks and Dunne.
Vice Mayor John Knox White adopted the key of obsequious for her duet with Roger Dent of Jamestown Properties in "It's a Shopping Mall by Any Other Name."
John Knox White also Tony Daysog performed a lovely duet as well as a lovely pas de deux in pinstriped pinafores with nunchucks. The two sang "Our Town" and "I got you Babe with astonishing verve.
This year, with the change in venue from the Island to Marin, featured a number of local dignitaries. There were also some modifications to the Official Rules in deference to the ongoing COVID19 pandemic.
Many reviewers have called this piece amazingly impossible to accomplish, and quite a pastiche. The East Bay Express found "this game of smoky backrooms is too much to believe." Karen D'Souza of the Contra Costa Times has called it "devilishly complicated" and "hard to believe it goes on. And on. And on still more," while Jim Harrington has called this performance, "the most dreadful rubbish since the last time I wrote a mixed review. I never fully approve of anything but this gave badness a new name."
The Chronicle, always more reserved due to the heavy influence of conservative ACT in the City, has commented, "It should be interesting to see how well this thing floats in the future amid this stormy time for companies. We miss Trish Spencer performing as City Mayor, a role she continued to adopt with nearly convincing theatricality. Mayor Izzy Ashcroft is far more persuasive although less a comic genius."
Of course, their theatre/music review got mixed up for that issue with the economic report and the elections special, so the meaning of that is up to interpretation.
The East Bay Express got the dates wrong on its Calendar section, so they had no review.
The Examiner, as usual, ignored Reality and talked about the batboy who had been abducted by space aliens.
Lauren Do, of Blogging Bayport, called it "The County Horror Show", and said that she was shocked. Simply shocked. And she hoped there would be no more performances this bad on the Island ever again although she did approve of anti-poodle incendiary devices when applied judiciously.
This year, with the change in venue from the Island to Marin, featured a number of local dignitaries.
For the Event Impromptu Performance, Nancy Pelosi showed up American Congresswomen Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, Ilhan Omar, Rashida Tlaib and Ayanna Pressley with newly re-elected Jared Huffman of Marin performed PJ Harvey's "Victory", which was received with loud applause before the DC contingent boarded a helicopter to loud cheers.
In any case, after spirits had been revived with a sloshing round from the kegs, the Hoophole Orchestra launched the proceedings with spirited instrumentals. The elaborate instrumental section performed Sousa marches and works by Debussy in true Island tradition, and featured vocals as well as strings, horns, thorns, woodwinds, and bloodhounds.
John Kelly of Berkeley marched in circles playing the bagpipe-tuba in the key of F## while the horn section played in the key of B13 the largely unknown piece by Eric Satie titled "Symfonie du Malderor."
Also from Berkeley, the RESPITE nurses chorus did a rousing barbershop version of "We Get the Mushroom Treatment", by Johann Sebastian Pilzen and led by baritone Amanda Jones.
Brian King and Toshie of Park Avenue performed upon the Mendacious Dieben and Sneaky Pete while Little Nichnutz executed the Shoplifter with Stolen Keys until the Tac Squad entered with fanfare and removed them for questioning.
Mill Valley, which has been courting the Island on a number of issues, sent a former Mayor who performed "The Little Chick goes Cheep, Cheep, Cheep," to a mixed reception of bystanders, who saw this rendition as a sop against MV's notorious wealthy exclusivity.
Antimacassars and doilies were supplied this year by Dr. Marta Rose, who also performed the Effexor Waltz.
Once this essay at musical endeavor was done to everyone's great relief, the Native Sons of the Golden West, Parlor 34 1/2, gathered in a circle for their traditional invocation decantation by the Native Sons of the Golden West, led by Jessica, daughter of the late Doyle McGowan of San Francisco, and chanted in the language of E Clampus Vitus.
"Heep heep Hepzibah!"
The men, wearing their ceremonial robes and colorful fezzes, moved in a circle with their pinkies interlocked, first clockwise, then anti-clockwise, before intoning, "Heep heep Hepzibah!" before all jumping into the air simultaneously. They then sang their parlor charter song, "Die Launische Forelle," After they had done this, they moved again in a circle as before, concluding by bowing deeply, dropping their drawers and thence emitting a sort of 21 gun salute.
After the ritual pouring of Wild Turkey libations, the Official bugles were blown by David P. Donery, the Town Manager for San Anselmo, and Tally, the official Parrot of Marin, upon which the hunters moved out into the field. Soon the air was filled with the gleeful holiday sounds of AK-47s, the cracks of freshly oiled Winchester rifles, the occasional crump of percussion grenades, cries of "Poodle there!", and the homey whoosh-bang of old-fashioned home-made bazookas and modern RPG's. In short it was a jolly, fine beginning for a Poodleshoot with overcast weather that soon turned quite chill although sunny.
This year the official delegation from DC once again featured Rudy Guliani, spearheading a phalanx of lawyers that shot randomly at everything in sight as Rudy waddled across the greens with his Poodle Blunderbuss Cannon, destroying household pets and crockery and the Truth with great abandon.
All of the scandals in the past year in the Crystal City of DC produced quite a number of Poodleshoot candidates, however those that did not go to jail turned out to be in the process of disassociation with the current Administration and so none of them were available for the Poodleshoot.
Due to the Coronavirus Pandemic certain new rules were put into place. All participants had to wear masks, which the DC contingent of course refused to submit, although it has been said one must only submit to avoid the wrath of the Police in most circumstances, so it seems in many circumstances the rules to not apply equally to all.
Some from the Liberal side were surprisingly okay with the rule deviation, citing the Darwin Effect would soon make the issues moot.
Things went swimmingly until the Flat Earth Society folks...
Things went swimmingly until the Flat Earth Society folks, who had been heavily infiltrated by Trumper enthusiasts, Neo-nazis, Climate-change deniers and anti-vaxxers got into a brough-haha over a disputed "kill" near Red Hill Centre with the AOC Squad supporters who had shown up, not so much to kill poodles as to give support to the AOC who they knew would arrive and surely attract opposition.
The FES folks seemed to vastly outnumber the other contingent, largely because this group has always been much louder, but the AOC was soon bolstered by intelligent members of the IEEE and the Union of Concerned Scientists, who usually do not participate, but often conduct studies on the various RF phenomena attendant to regional disturbances of this type, where large amounts of invested energy paradoxically seems to be converted to inert mass in reverse of all previous theoretical constructs.
The Poodleshoot, like all NASCAR events, is a singular event in which a great amount of industry results in a lump of useless "stuff", which has yet to be fully analyzed in terms of subsequent emissions.
The FES has tended to resist scientific analysis against its firm set of unfounded beliefs that the entire Earth is flat with compass points determined by loci identified by the names of cities named Springfield scattered around the ... map. There is no globe.
This group has remained fertile territory for Trumper-Rumpers, who sometimes are called Trumper-Rompers after the diapers they affect to wear. The Trumper-Rompers wear diapers - under their overclothes of course -- so as to emulate the Big Baby whom they adore without reservation.
So anyway, the FAS ran up against the AOC and thence commence a great fight. Amidst this fight lay the carcass of the slain Poo, not unlike the ancient battle described in the Iliad over Patroclus.
This Poo had been owned, btw, by Mimsy Hackensack of Fairfax, who said, "He pooped all over the place, yapped incessantly and bit the postman. I am glad he is gone; good riddance."
the FAS had a motto of "Leave no Poo behind
Nevertheless the FAS had a motto of "Leave no Poo behind," and so they commenced an assault that resulted in the AOS troops taking cover on the north side of the Red Hill Centre behind buildings and fortifications while the FAS occupied the Parking Arcade and the frontage roads along the south side of Sir Francis Drake.
The Sheriff's department would have had a say here on the goings on, but they were driven off by blasts of the hot air guns of the FAS, which had cultivated this technique for many year.
The AOS were sort put given their tenuous positions and low enlistment in the Walgreens and Safeway parkinglots, but a figure appeared at dark along with an host of reinforcements who turned out to be the Perfidious Media, a name defined by the Trumper-Rumpers and the distant Nazis, whose influence over the Trumpers could not be denied.
At dusk the figure appeared before the embattled AOC, guardians of truth, and spake as thus as in ages past, "Look for me on the 3rd Day. Goodnight and Goodluck!"
The Second Day was filled with accusations of Lying Press and Traitorous Infidels coming from the FAS who had quite usurped and overtaken the Poodleshoot as all hunters flocked to one side or the other, becoming as such a Nation Divided.
Chieftains, Hannity and Guliani spread devious fogs of disinformation
The Media send fullisades of Truth against the stoic battlements of the FAS coalition while the Coalition blasted back with outrageous accusations. Their Chieftains, Hannity and Guliani spread devious fogs of disinformation and false accusations and numerous writs most unfounded. They summoned dragons of deceit and castrated those who would be truthful kings.
Someone said, "Isn't this nonsense like a TV show?" and was promptly beheaded.
That night the air descended into freezing temperatures and all who manned the barricades and there was much suffering among the Truthful and the Scientific for they were not used to the self-denial of soldiers on the battlefield.
But lo! In the East as the sun arose there appeared a figure mounted upon a great steed all shining of silver. Behind him was an host of people from all walks of life bearing what looked like ballots. Down the figure descended, carrying above his head a shining spear that appeared like a great, golden pen.
"See the facts now!"
"See the facts now!" shouted the man as his host descended from Red Hill onto the FAS line and overwhelmed them with votes and the truth.
Minions of the FAS fought back with denials and lies, but they were overwhelmed and so it was even as an FAS exclaimed, "We won!" amid their debris and their dismay, a child stood up and shouted, "SUCK IT UP BUTTERCUP!"
And so the followers of the Flat Earth Society were cast down, and the Trumper-Rumpers fled with poopy diapers, and order was restored on the final day of the Poodleshoot.
Given that few poodles were taken, Padraic and Dawn threw another Ahi on the Barbee and so all were fed and a thankful time was celebrated in this year of our Lord 2020, which marks the 22nd Poodleshoot and BBQ.
