tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17422834270589748202024-03-12T20:01:43.959-07:00Dark Tea TimesDark Tea Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06957052694843692721noreply@blogger.comBlogger9125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1742283427058974820.post-66002430249693650372011-02-12T20:22:00.000-08:002011-02-16T06:46:21.818-08:00Beleaguered Beloved throws up hands in despair<div style="text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Welsh terrorist Wilkie threatens to jump if no rumen <br />
forthcoming.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>By Comrade Editor Marienka<br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Dacha goats continue to reproduce at alarming rates. “I don’t know where they’re coming from,” said a bewildered Beloved. “I go out to chop wood, and when I get back there are five more baby goats running around the dacha.” Comrade housekeeper Netochka Nezvanova just sniffed. “Comrade Beloved, he naïf. He think baby goat fall from sky. Mama goat, she jump fence with papa goat and they do goat things in woodshed. Five months later baby goat fall from mama goat and start running round my kitchen. I thwack goat over head with iron skillet if they no stop running around my kitchen. I cook maybe. Goat taste good. Comrade Beloved, he need finish bigger goat barn soon. Dacha no place for goat.” To further compound the chaos, the Welsh terrorists have begun a campaign for a rumen of their own. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">As for urania, an unidentified comrade peasant reported she fell into a two-day faint after finding nannyberries on her favorite Fortuny dress. Beloved and the wicked but seductive Baron von Kindle had to keep dusting nannyberries off of her lest she suffocate under the profusion of these goat gifts. She has once again departed with the wicked but seductive Baron von Kindle in tow. “I cannot, I will not, continue to tolerate the goat situation in this house. I am no Mrs. Carl Sandburg.</span>” Mrs. Carl Sandburg late wife of the even later poet Carl Sandburg was famous for keeping goats in the house.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">According to urania’s spokesperson Jarek Ňadra (sometime bra designer for the glitterati), urania has headed off to an unidentified spa to partake of the healing waters after straining her back on her Soviet issue fainting couch while reading Fyodor Sologub’s “The Girl Who Would Not Learn.” Sources close to urania are crying “reading ruse.” Mrs. Martha Mucus relic of the late Henry “Commodore” Mucus and aunt of the mysteriously missing woman remarked, “That girl has never missed an opportunity to learn what she shouldn’t. If you ask me, something other than reading was happening on that fainting couch.” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Lady Eugenia Eugenica-Zwisherstufen longtime friend of urania confirmed she entertained urania and one Baron von Kindle at her stately mansion in an unidentified location near an unidentified spa. “I’m not sure to which branch of the von Kindle family the Baron is related,” she said. </span>“<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I assume he’s a legitimate baron, but one can never be sure. There are so many Baron von Kindles running around these days. They simply cannot all be barons.</span>”<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> Sources close to urania report she and the baron seemed quite attached. </span>“<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">She took him </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">everywhere</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> even to the baths,</span></span>” said a spa employee who asked not to be identified.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Bath attendants deny having seen urania there; however, they did report that Mrs. Martha Mucus was seen emerging from the steam-powered vibrator room at the spa looking less sour than usual. Mrs. Mucus disavowed any sexual congress with the machine. “I am receiving medical treatment for a wandering womb,” she said. At this time, the location of the womb is unknown. Mrs. Mucus reportedly was so pleased with the treatment she ordered a smaller, electrical home model for herself.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Advertisement</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">News Flash . . .<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">A recent update from the highly regarded newspaper</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> Dark Tea Times</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> reports some friction between urania and the Baron over </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Oblomov</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">. It seems he gave her an abridged version of the book. “I feel deeply saddened and betrayed,” said urania. “From now on, I shall tend to my garden. As for the vicious rumors circulating about my activities during my </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">vacation</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> from the dacha, I can only say this: May the instigators live in interesting times. As for me, I am currently immersed in reading high-minded literature and discussing the hermeneutics of suspicion with the Earl of Macintosh. As for Baron von Kindle, I have no idea where he is. Probably off somewhere reading a Nora Roberts novel.” An anonymous source revealed the wicked but seductive Baron has been reading </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Goodnight Desdemona, Hello Juliet</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">. </span></span>Baron von Kindle could not be reached for comment.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">Rev. Anil B. Lessing removed from ATTA Conference </div><div style="text-align: left;">keynote address for raising ruckus.</div></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Leather panties a sensation at ATTA conference</b><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal">By Comrade Staff Person Anon.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The January 23<sup>rd</sup> ATTAC (American Tupperware and Tea Association) Conference was huge a success with the exception of a few minor blips. Cornikens (Cornelius Aloysius Balthazar Mucus to his colleagues) contracted a raging case of laryngitis, which rendered him speechless for two weeks and unable to deliver the keynote address at the conference. This duty fell to his arch-rival Schneida von Snacken, who delivered a controversial speech in which she claimed that the famous burping Tupperware allowed frustrated fifties housewives an opportunity to imitate gassy while still being classy. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Her comment caused a minor uproar in row Q seat 39 occupied by Rev. Anil B. Lessing minister of the Church of the Holy Glowing Water in Oak Ridge, Tennessee. “Jezebel,” he roared at Professor Von Snacken. “Tupperware is the last bastion against communism, the devil, and democrats in the latter days, of which I might add today is one.” Rev. Lessing had to be escorted out of the auditorium by the ATTA Grrls, who know how to use their black belts and leather panties when need be. Professor Snacken remained disdainfully calm throughout the ruckus. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Shame on him,” said Mrs. Irma Geddon after the talk was over. “Every women likes to pass a little gas now and then. It’s good for the digestion. Why I pass gas at least ten times a day, and my daughter Aurelia says, ‘Momma you could digest nails if you needed to.’ Nothing communist bout that. And I don’t reckon I was one of those fools running up a deficient over the right to gas back in 2001.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">T. Septimus Glass, Soho’s purveyor of fine vintage Tupperware did an excellent business as did the Prufrock Toast and Tea Room. Indeed, the Prufrock Toast and Tea Room had to call in extra help to handle the hordes of toast-hungry ATTA Conference attendees. Miniver Cheevy and friends postponed a planned Anti-Teaparty demonstration in Vermont to help Bob O’Lardy, prodigy toast chef and owner of the famous Soho tea establishment. “Bob’s a great guy,” said Cheevy. “We want to make the name of his tearoom fragrant.” Asked about Cheevy's vote of confidence for the tearoom, O’Lardy responded gloomily, “That’s nice, but the name’s Rob not Bob. I’m not bitter though.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">By far the most popular event, however, was the ATTA Grrls concert. The ATTA Grrls, who had to handle the whole show as the lead band Teddy and the Throes failed to appear, literally played their leather panties off. An enthusiastic crowd responded by hurling leather panties onto the stage. “This is better than reading <i><a href="http://booktimesdarkteatimes.blogspot.com/2011/02/comfort-but-not-cold-comfort.html">Nightingale Wood</a></i>,” shouted an enthusiastic Mrs. Irma Geddon of Maryville, Tennessee during the noisy intermission.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The ATTA Conference gift shop did a booming business selling commemorative leather panties autographed by the ATTA Grrls. “I bought me ten pairs of them leather panties,” said Mrs. Irma Geddon, “one for me and a pair for my sisters Pansy, Daisy, Violet, Rose, Phlox, Tulip, Hyacinth, and my two daughters Aurelia and Dianthus. Dianthus<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">, she is an odd one. She ran off at sixteen and got herself a scholarship to Cooper Union where that young Ludovic Mucus went. She designed sets (or so she says) for a film of his called </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Poor Folk</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">. With a title like that I reckon it must have been porn, but I don’t like to ask for mother’s sake. She goes into a coma every time Dianthus does something abnormal. Then we all have to walk around on tiptoe so we won’t wake her. Momma’s a hard woman when she first comes round from one of her comas.</span>”</div></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">____________________________________________</span></span><br />
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</b><br />
<b>Fashions to Faint For<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The true <i>homme du monde</i> knows that no lady should ever settle for a mere box of chocolates and roses on Valentine’s Day. While it true that roses are red and the best Belgian chocolate is good, your love needs to know you treasure her. And what better way of letting your jewel know what a jewel she is than with a gift of jewelry, preferably Lalique?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Open by appointment only.<o:p></o:p></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Contact Madame Urania Chanel de Newtonière.</span></span></span>Dark Tea Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06957052694843692721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1742283427058974820.post-6784494837639882372011-01-15T14:16:00.000-08:002011-01-15T20:38:35.904-08:00Is the dacha doomed?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">Comrade housekeeper Netochka Nezvanova without </div><div style="text-align: left;">her iron head-thwacking skillet</div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">By Comrade Editor Marienka<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">According to inside sources, dark doings have hit the dacha. Last Sunday, the fair urania’s beloved computer Diotima began to behave in a strange fashion. “One minute it was off, and the next it turned itself on. It started to speak in some unknown language that did not sound friendly,” reported Beloved. Comrade peasant Tatiana Chaucerova, crack computer expert and wife to the illustrious Comrade peasant Mstislov Chaucerov president of the Comrade Peasant Chaucerian Society, was called in to investigate. “Not good,” she said. I know immediately the computer it cursed. It erected own firewall.” </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">This mysterious otherworldly firewall resisted all attempts by the world’s best hackers to breach. “This is no ordinary firewall,” commented Stephen J. Hacking, president of the Hacking Coughers, who worked closely with Comrade peasant Chaucerova. “It emits dangerous combinations of 0s and 1s that can only be described as diabolic foul play. No human wrote the code.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">At approximately 1:00 am on Tuesday morning, the computer gave a mighty belch and exploded. Thus far the mystery remains unsolved though local DC (Dacha Constabulary) officials have several suspects under surveillance.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">On being informed of the tragedy, urania immediately rushed back from the Czech Republic to which she had decamped precipitously a few days earlier. Upon arrival, she rushed to Diotima (or what remained of her), shrieked and collapsed on her Soviet-issue fainting couch. Prostrate with grief, she has remained inconsolable despite the best efforts of Beloved and the Baron von Kindle to cheer her. Beloved, at great sacrifice to his bank account, has obtained a new computer for urania, but she can scarcely bring herself to look at it. “It does strange things,” she reported. “It demands I install demons in it. Who wants demons in one’s computer? Besides it does not even have a name, and if it did I fear the name would be ominous.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Great Aunt Martha Mucus relic of the late Henry “Commodore” Mucus made a brief appearance to provide bracing, if unwanted, advice and company. “You spend entirely too much time on that fainting couch reading trashy literature. Now get up and install those demons right now or I shall thwack you with my reticule.” urania’s tears flowed harder and local comrade peasants had to be called in to play soothing balalaika music for her, while the Welsh terrorist howled in sympathy. In the ensuing noise, with the howling Welsh terrorists, the weeping urania, the soothing balalaika music, and one infuriating aunt, someone (we know not who) installed demons on the computer. Needless to say, urania is distraught. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Comrade housekeeper Netochka Nezvanova has remained stoic throughout the crisis. “Computer,” she said, “no worry. Computer explode always. I no believe conspiracy. And fowl play? That for chickens. I hit everybody over head with iron skillet if they no stop this noise.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Today, the local comrade peasants held a funeral service for the dearly missed Diotima. They erected a large snow statue of Emma Goldman by the burial site and wrote in the snow the epitaph “Dance in peace Diotima.” Needless to say, urania wept through the entire service.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">After the service, the wicked but seductive Baron von Kindle presented urania with two copies of </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Doctor Glas</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">, one in English and the other in Swedish. On reading about the loathsome Gregorius and the perpetually gloomy Glas, urania rose from her fainting couch of woe and announced, “I shall never be happy again.” <span id="goog_776907741"></span><span id="goog_776907742"></span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A goat coming in from the cold</span></span></td></tr>
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Snow crisis at dacha</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">By Comrade Guest Reporter Tatiana Chaucerova<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">If deaths, demons, and great aunts have not been enough, the temperature has plunged precipitously to depths unexpected even by local comrade peasants used to the cold. Early this morning it looked as if the local cattle might freeze in the field if not moved to warmer quarters, so the dacha has been turned into a temporary animal hostel. All the furniture has been moved to the lumber-room with the exception of urania’s Soviet-issue fainting couch, for which Beloved and the Baron have erected a platform. Although an efficacious solution for keeping away the cows, horse, and sheep, the goats keep climbing up on it and leaving unwanted presents on the couch. To make matters worse, the littlest goat, Mia Sofia ate urania’s copy of </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The Idiot</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">, an event about which urania was not most pleased. Although Baron von Kindle promised her a new one, urania announced petulantly that she wanted her old one. “How can one even mourn properly with all these cattle,” she said and flounced off to lumber room locking the door behind her. Beloved was forced to stop reading </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://booktimesdarkteatimes.blogspot.com/2011/01/reading-this-book-may-save-your-goats.html#comments">Sheep and Goat Medicine</a></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> and plead with her to come out lest she starve. Doctors are pessimistic about her health. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie5HJBZb9YCl8t5V7vBgIrKfR7Hg_Jfd62hGGizBl6lIPuE46qfB1bpY1CJpbBU07d_o1iK55m355E8AUimtUzHGHWxF4IXvhuEuodpCAiqcag1_cvN4YYB2n3P25Rlq-KKHW3Hucwi2qY/s1600/Prufrock.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie5HJBZb9YCl8t5V7vBgIrKfR7Hg_Jfd62hGGizBl6lIPuE46qfB1bpY1CJpbBU07d_o1iK55m355E8AUimtUzHGHWxF4IXvhuEuodpCAiqcag1_cvN4YYB2n3P25Rlq-KKHW3Hucwi2qY/s320/Prufrock.png" width="215" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 10.8px;">Prodigy toast chef Bob O'Lardy is not bitter</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 10.8px;">about tearoom riot.</span></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Racous rioting temporarily closes tearoom</span></b></div><div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">By Comrade Staff Person Anon.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The Prufrock Toast and Tea Room reopened today after a Wednesday morning fracas that resulted in shattered china, broken sugar bowls, and a very sticky floor. The damage occurred during an anti-Teaparty demonstration at the esteemed Soho tea establishment. “We were having a self-righteous time hurling china and sugar bowls when one of our members noted there were no copies of Ayn Rand in the establishment,” said Miniver Cheevy president, co-president, and chair of the Manhattan CATNIP Association (Citizens Against Teaparty Nattering in Public). “When I found a copy of T. S. Eliot’s <i>The Wasteland</i> on a table by the window, I knew we had the wrong place. No Teaparty member would stand in the same room with <i>The Wasteland</i>. They even get twitchy when copies of Ezra Pound poems are in the room. And how silly is that? We apologized to Bob and promised not to do it again. You know, sometimes we just have to weep that we were ever born,” Cheevy concluded.</span><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Prufrock Toast and Tearoom proprietor and chef de toast Bob O’Lardy responded, “Actually the name is Rob, but I’m not bitter. What are a few china fragments shored against our ruin? Really I’m not bitter.” Anti-Teaparty demonstrators rallied round, spending the rest of the day moping floors, laundering tea clothes, and gluing china together. I think Bob will have to admit we did a bang-up job putting the place to rights,” said Cheevy.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Well . . . the teacups are bit leaky, but they did send several nice pots of hyacinths,” said Bob. “And by the way my name is Rob, but I’m not bitter.” Bob later retired to the larder perhaps to eat a peach.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Vera Pol, an innocent Czech lass and frequent customer at the tearoom, said “I not like Teaparty people,” she said. They spoil parties by reading sections of U.S. Constitution. Not so bad if they understand what they read and not mispronounce words.” And all that ‘refudiating.’ What this ‘refudiate’? I not find world in OED. I write Natasha and see if she know word.” Natasha is Vera's lover over whom she spends much time weeping while dusting Tupperware at T. Septimus Glass, Soho's vintage Tupperware gallery.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">We wish Bob the best of luck on the reopening of the Prufrock Toast and Tearoom.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWRG0shBzklyIV9aKtkC18OWeYndXUwWVygWbhybmCsdtc3-_Zza6JHA8r1xSSNFirjzUT4DUjxuRip5LhLYYXvCmsAk7-VzpvZDl2iL325sPaKPrclsQgasXigvFuJ5ua_YBtJgt3_gHC/s1600/Comrade+oVercoat2.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWRG0shBzklyIV9aKtkC18OWeYndXUwWVygWbhybmCsdtc3-_Zza6JHA8r1xSSNFirjzUT4DUjxuRip5LhLYYXvCmsAk7-VzpvZDl2iL325sPaKPrclsQgasXigvFuJ5ua_YBtJgt3_gHC/s320/Comrade+oVercoat2.png" width="248" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Dark Tea Times book reviewer, Comrade </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Overcoat alleged perpetrator of missing </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">person hoax</span></span></div></td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><b>Horrible hoax exposed</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">By Comrade Staff Person Anon.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The <i>Dark Tea Times</i> is happy to announce the return of Comrade editor Davushka. It turns out his disappearance, the mysterious letter signed Vixen, and the letter from Odessa were all part of an elaborate hoax believed to have been carried out by Comrade Overcoat. In the interests of objectivity Comrade editors Marienka and Davushka declined to elaborate on the details of the alleged disappearance of Comrade editor Davusha. The DC is continuing its investigation, however. “The hoax, if hoax indeed it is, is far too elaborate for a man of Comrade reviewer Overcoat’s IQ. Obviously he had help, said DC official Pyotr Kopunkov. Comrade Overcoat denied all allegations. “I have been framed. Something is fishy about this investigation. What we need is total transparency, something I might add the <i>Dark Tea Times</i> is short on,” commented Comrade Overcoat upon leaving DC offices after questioning. “I will say no more. At the moment I am on the trail of a man named Copperfield, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">David Copperfield</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">. I am also reading <i>The Secret History of Moscow</i>. I am convinced that all the clues to this mystery are there and that Comrade editor Davushka will be exposed for trafficking in fake Tupperware.</span>”<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmFgvhXxQ5FV_wcrz6J8yiQg-NdiGqzXKEty5_KZPskEQ8aXGud7w1504adelLw7oGbI6pLGoz_C0w8CBm7yL36P2wtiXf-oQUZhYt2qgLgY0uZ6CKYpRAHxYisD2XF04G1fd1MCipkY-o/s1600/dinner+dress.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmFgvhXxQ5FV_wcrz6J8yiQg-NdiGqzXKEty5_KZPskEQ8aXGud7w1504adelLw7oGbI6pLGoz_C0w8CBm7yL36P2wtiXf-oQUZhYt2qgLgY0uZ6CKYpRAHxYisD2XF04G1fd1MCipkY-o/s320/dinner+dress.jpg" width="234" /></a></div><b>Fashions to Faint For</b><br />
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We are pleased to announce that our exclusive line of midwinter dinner gowns is now available. Our dinner gowns are a true feast for the eyes. And those eyes will be on you not on dinner. Expect spilt soup when you enter the dining room . . . fashionably late.<br />
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Fashions to Faint For is open by appointment only.<br />
Please contact Madame Urania Chanel de Newtoniere.<br />
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</div>Dark Tea Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06957052694843692721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1742283427058974820.post-12497493320348209232011-01-06T02:50:00.000-08:002011-01-13T20:32:19.892-08:00Sudden departure leaves all in tizzy<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkOL9sJVSHEellRErX3PHeRLSFbHl3V74R02r51yWOFs8EwVUXq-isriHN8PNkBrF8JrJveCICS9aleHB3p0IaD41_yOz0Kx8YGhGgKic6Zo1Yi8bkvSbQP2BW9lFNnaw6SdYlFU4lXwC9/s1600/Ruthless+Tamurlane.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkOL9sJVSHEellRErX3PHeRLSFbHl3V74R02r51yWOFs8EwVUXq-isriHN8PNkBrF8JrJveCICS9aleHB3p0IaD41_yOz0Kx8YGhGgKic6Zo1Yi8bkvSbQP2BW9lFNnaw6SdYlFU4lXwC9/s320/Ruthless+Tamurlane.png" width="290" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Jarek Nǎdra denies allegations of Kinkaid forgeries.</td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">By Comrade Editor Marienka<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Meanwhile back at the dacha, urania has been conspicuously absent. Semi-reliable witnesses reported last seeing her late this afternoon decamping in a troika shouting “Czech Republic or Bust.” Exactly what she meant by this enigmatic comment was difficult to decipher. Earlier in the day, she had been observed reading a treatise on “foundation” garments entitled </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The Corset: A Cultural History</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">. Has she become a purveyor of foundation garments? True, her name has been linked with that of Jarek Ňadra, the famous Czech bra designer and rumored forger of Thomas Kincaid paintings, but close friends and longtime enemies resolutely denied urania would ever stoop to selling bras, no matter how bad the economy or how desperate her personal finances. “I’ve known </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Ms</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> Baggage since she was born,” said Mrs. Martha Mucus relic of the late Henry “Commodore” Mucus. “She scandalized her entire family by burning her bras at boarding school. As far as I know, she has not worn a bra since, not even when her sainted aunt Louise Pickens went down on her knees and promised that child a healthy trust fund if only she would please wear a bra. Why that shameless little hussy said she would rather scrub toilets at Howard Johnson’s than ever wear a bra again.” </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">L’affaire</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> remains a mystery. The only clue . . . urania did take those intrepid Welsh terrorists Wilkie and Ceilidh with her. For some time they have been perfecting the art of biting popes on the butt; however, the Vatican denied that any visits to the Czech Republic by His Royal Popeness have been planned. “Urania? We speak not to this Urania,” said Vatican spokesman Luigi Del Monte.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMLzVVD5fncHUmvJIMRspvMSlF6PuFSYKbVmQBYxxorCaHwFpieAsO27XxvfO9n3HY9FRzpud4tNaatqdnWbA8AhZ7-grrFdSCmK29ynvwn1_QLc_IsDWL50VOauIbd1QdkwjDfot5bQ4r/s1600/Cornikins.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMLzVVD5fncHUmvJIMRspvMSlF6PuFSYKbVmQBYxxorCaHwFpieAsO27XxvfO9n3HY9FRzpud4tNaatqdnWbA8AhZ7-grrFdSCmK29ynvwn1_QLc_IsDWL50VOauIbd1QdkwjDfot5bQ4r/s320/Cornikins.jpg" width="250" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Will Cornikens survive another collapse?</span></span></td></tr>
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</span> </b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Exploding eggs in Soho love nest</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">By Comrade Staff Person Anon.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Cornikens (Aloysius Balthazar Cornelius Mucus to his colleagues) has once again suffered a nervous collapse and has retired to the linen closet to read </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Real Live Boyfriends</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">. Alas, insiders say the book was not quite what he expected although Teddy Musus-Psmythe-Mucus, his long-time lover and co-owner of Soho's vintage Tupperware gallery T. Septimus Glass, was somewhat offended. “He slam door when he come into shop,” said Vera Pol, the innocent Czech lass who works at T. Septimus Glass. “I think he no like this talk of boyfriends. I cry if Natasha start reading book <i>Real Live Girl</i> <i>Friends</i>.” (Natasha is the lover Vera left behind in the Czech Republic.) </span>Inside sources say Teddy has more on his mind than Corniken’s latest collapse. The ATTA (American Tupperware and Tea Association) conference is just around the corner, and Teddy and the Throes (his nephew Ludovic's band) have not contacted him or shown up for rehearsal.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Nora Velvet, lead singer and didgeridoo player for ATTA Grrls is furious. She has been pitching fits and leather panties for the last week. How are we supposed to coordinate if this numbskull Dostoevsky-reading <i>IDIOT</i> refuses to show up for practice? What a nepotistical nitwit. And</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 30px;"> ‘</span></span>nepotistical’ is too a word. So there ‘Mr. Ludovic Got-My-Nose-in-the-Air Mucus.’ I hope you drown.” Teddy has been sighing a lot. “I’m just going to go home and reread <i><a href="http://booktimesdarkteatimes.blogspot.com/2011/01/arm-wrestling-aunts-and-wicked-captains.html">A Near Thing for Captain Najork</a></i> and <i><a href="http://booktimesdarkteatimes.blogspot.com/2011/01/arm-wrestling-aunts-and-wicked-captains.html">How Tom Beat Captain Najork and His Hired Sportsmen</a>.</i> My brain needs a rest.” “If that nepotistical uncle of ‘Mr. Ludovic Got-My-Nose-in-the-Air Mucus’ rests his brain any more he’ll be comatose,” retorted Nora Velvet. Apparently Teddy’s reading did not relax his brain as he absentmindedly stuck two eggs in the microwave and set the timer for five minutes. Explosions followed.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> Oh dear, oh dear. Will the ATTA Conference come off smoothly? The situation looks darkly dire and unpromising at the moment.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi22-itt_5jGZM9VudylRZf2qvyV6AVmJsn-lAPGrBTZg0Mhklv4PP5tg5q_f8gscvXhu76hyphenhyphen5jYVI0N9Son2SVYulcZ-ptSANBvlovdD0l-zAPBAmpD2Skuh-QnHlDBPCrD1XSg9jNAecf/s1600/Comrade+overcoat+and+frined.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi22-itt_5jGZM9VudylRZf2qvyV6AVmJsn-lAPGrBTZg0Mhklv4PP5tg5q_f8gscvXhu76hyphenhyphen5jYVI0N9Son2SVYulcZ-ptSANBvlovdD0l-zAPBAmpD2Skuh-QnHlDBPCrD1XSg9jNAecf/s320/Comrade+overcoat+and+frined.png" width="210" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Comrade Overcoat (right) drinking </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">something other than tea from samovar.</span></span></span></div></td></tr>
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</span> </b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Notes from the underground</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">By Comrade Staff Person Anon.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“I do not think Comrade editor Marienka is pleased with Comrade Davushka's absence,</span>”<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> said Comrade Overcoat. She’s been slamming lots of doors lately and muttering about a certain comrade who needs to get his bohunkus back to Russia. Confidentially, I always suspected that Comrade editor </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">in absentia</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> Davushka was a bit too dazzled by oligarchs and crime lords. And this André person? It all sounds very suspicious and below board to me . . . underground in fact. I shall shortly be taking notes.” Rumor has it that Comrade Overcoat is trying to assume sole editorship of the </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Dark Tea Times</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">. “Editor schmeditor,” Comrade housekeeper Natasha Nezvanova told the </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Dark Tea Times</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">. </span>“I know idiot when I see idiot. Comrade Overcoat he idiot. And he need to wash overcoat. It stink. I hit over head with skillet and maybe sue. I think hit over head with skillet better.”<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">____________________________ </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP8BhyTEkUjCCVJYP6DJW3kwl5AoDxivz4T8AckyWMxDylgpt1FWjS3A36sI1eZ1d3N-Wf5rWV7eQkdxI_uglsyEt6UCyTCi3VCHJs39e5FqhRgqmuDqp_iY9JtH7_MQZWyUL7vJ7qO15q/s1600/fashion+ad+6.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP8BhyTEkUjCCVJYP6DJW3kwl5AoDxivz4T8AckyWMxDylgpt1FWjS3A36sI1eZ1d3N-Wf5rWV7eQkdxI_uglsyEt6UCyTCi3VCHJs39e5FqhRgqmuDqp_iY9JtH7_MQZWyUL7vJ7qO15q/s320/fashion+ad+6.png" width="204" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The iBra</span></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Fashions to Faint For</span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Nothings says <i>you</i> like you like</span> </span></b>“I.” Our sensual iBra will raise eyebrows, but you won't care. You're only interested in that discriminating <i>homme du monde</i> who smiles appreciatively as you whisper, “Dress me up, dress me down.”<br />
<br />
Fashions to Faint For is open by appointment only.<br />
Contact Madame Urania Chanel de Newtoniere.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi88wKKMyuSJH1edwMtyEJlPrE4I6PL1lUj1vy7zaIYHePL1oPritQnJPGxS1aBwsG-DauKe58cskI4TDBT6q-cdyhmTg7TNwsk-ImgwJuRgANKn_lM5o4ClQeRcDp0UYoLW5DmoEcMtrGE/s1600/DeVoise.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi88wKKMyuSJH1edwMtyEJlPrE4I6PL1lUj1vy7zaIYHePL1oPritQnJPGxS1aBwsG-DauKe58cskI4TDBT6q-cdyhmTg7TNwsk-ImgwJuRgANKn_lM5o4ClQeRcDp0UYoLW5DmoEcMtrGE/s400/DeVoise.jpg" width="257" /></a></div>Dark Tea Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06957052694843692721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1742283427058974820.post-49599079840199623672011-01-01T14:24:00.000-08:002011-01-04T23:23:31.923-08:00Burnt bottoms at dacha<div style="text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjT_yNC_jcHqPN0UTIGF6598Mj_bAToH7Cq-dwxS6xc4UEv-PDqwW7dh02vWanD1aLMPykfTzk2ALI1TFEwf3f4PIuePzeB9ahGkhb9ExeD1p3W2iJi0Bgs9dNvVdpZF-h5sWL_wksG9iU/s1600/Dachagirl+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjT_yNC_jcHqPN0UTIGF6598Mj_bAToH7Cq-dwxS6xc4UEv-PDqwW7dh02vWanD1aLMPykfTzk2ALI1TFEwf3f4PIuePzeB9ahGkhb9ExeD1p3W2iJi0Bgs9dNvVdpZF-h5sWL_wksG9iU/s320/Dachagirl+3.jpg" width="208" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Comrade peasant Tatiana </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Chaucerova </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">expresses concern </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">over dacha ruckus.</span></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">By Comrade Marienka<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Home from Paris, urania celebrated Christmas with Beloved in a state of connubial bliss. Although there had been some concern beforehand that Beloved might repeat the birthday faux pas, all went smoothly. “I tell Comrade Beloved, ‘No more fainting in house. I hit everybody over head with skillet if fainting happen,’” said Comrade housekeeper Netochka Nezvanova. Thanks to her flawless French and her former connection with Prince S. and Count B., Comrade Nezvanova was able to procure an appointment with the exclusive French couturier, Madame Urania Chanel de Newtoniere. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">“This is an unprecedented event,” announced Jarek Ňadra, urania’s personal spokesperson and sometime bra designer for the glitterati. Normally, Madame Chanel de Newtoniere does not grant appointments without three recommendations from the exclusive ranks of the rich and famous. It is quite an honor for Beloved.” Under the careful guidance of Madame Urania and Comrade Nezvanova, Beloved purchased a velvet opera coat and a pair of embroidered violet silk moiré shoes for urania, reported an anonymous seamstress who asked to remain anonymous for reasons of anonymity.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Despite the connubiality of the day, there were some faint rumblings of discord. On Christmas Eve, the Earl of Macintosh arrived unexpectedly. Finding everyone asleep, he decided on a forced entry down the dacha chimney. “I thought they might be dead and need rescuing,” said the Earl defensively. “All I got for my concern was a burned bottom and a thwack on the head. I guess I just didn’t have the app for it.” Comrade housekeeper expressed doubt about the Earl’s story. “Dead people no need rescuing,” she said. “I know Don Juan when I see him. This earl he Don Juan. I thwack over head with skillet. Maybe I thwack again if he no go home.” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The ruckus created by the Earl’s arrival had local comrade peasants diving for their bomb shelters. “It sound like how they say in United States, “Armageddon.” We not believe in Armageddon here. We believe in enlightened post-Marxist state,” said Comrade peasant Tatiana Chaucerova, wife of <span style="color: #141414; letter-spacing: 1pt;">Mtislav Chaucerov president of </span>the Comrade Peasant Chaucerian Society. Comrade Chaucerova added, “The whole event was like a medieval morality play. First there came a great howling, then a mighty growling, followed by much thwacking and gruntling.” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">As for urania, she understandably swooned. Neither Beloved nor the Baron had much to say as they slept through the fracas. The Baron just twirled his mustache and muttered incomprehensibly under his breath. “Noise?” asked Beloved. “I heard a slight bump, but I thought it was probably just urania swooning again; otherwise, I slept like a log.” Comrade Nezvanova responded tersely, “Comrade Beloved sometime he be log. Then he need thwack and kick in bottom. I do both maybe.” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Great Aunt Martha Mucus, who had descended on the dacha for Christmas, said dourly about urania, “That shameless little sauce-box swoons on purpose. She’s been doing it since she was four, when she put little Carl Utterback-Mucus in a cardboard box and pushed him down a steep mountain.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">We at the <i>Dark Tea Times</i> confess this is the first time we have heard of the little Carl Utterback-Mucus debacle. Surely our fair urania would do nothing like that. “Of course she would. She did,” said Great Aunt Martha tartly. <o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>Who has been kissing under mistletoe?</b></span><o:p></o:p></div><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 11pt;">By Comrade Staff Person Anon.</span> </div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGbnQhtX8T4iQd7JKE-ytRz_Htsy0wMNrkCI1lUC0Ekch83Ewezu6XGWdT9BIvjkMruXEfzLoijBIS7YG_UNbfQQRicGTnxUjvpK0VfupYy4iwRoVPCGhMex15PIm47H3ltbffVfkV8r4Y/s1600/m-vintage_mistletoe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGbnQhtX8T4iQd7JKE-ytRz_Htsy0wMNrkCI1lUC0Ekch83Ewezu6XGWdT9BIvjkMruXEfzLoijBIS7YG_UNbfQQRicGTnxUjvpK0VfupYy4iwRoVPCGhMex15PIm47H3ltbffVfkV8r4Y/s320/m-vintage_mistletoe.jpg" width="250" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Illicit kisses?</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">On the fifth day of Christmas, rumor began hurtling recklessly round the dacha. An anonymous member of the paparazzi snapped a photograph purportedly of urania kissing someone, who was not Santa Claus, under the mistletoe. Jarek Ňadra, urania’s personal spokesperson and sometime bra designer for the glitterati, hotly denied the rumors. “<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;">‘</span>Purported’ is the key word,” he said. “The woman in the picture could be anyone. Her face is obscured in the shadows. This is all just so much tittle-tattle. Distressing, distasteful, and dubious.” When confronted with the picture, urania fainted. Doctors are worried. As for the man in question, some say he is the Earl of Macintosh. The Earl has also hotly (a truly operative word in his case) denied the rumor. “That couldn’t be I. My bottom was severely injured four days ago. I still cannot sit down. The demned doctors have said I may be sitting on a doughnut pillow for months.” Only time will tell. As for urania she wept copiously. “I don’t even own a dress like that one . . . although it is very nice.” After this brief comment, she understandably returned to her Soviet-issue fainting couch to nibble Belgian chocolates and read Somerset Maugham’s novel <i>Cakes and Ale</i>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><div class="MsoNormal"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY1mlvS7l4DZK6TXbRI0dnAJtMnY7ih4fyl8g1ouehtr-xqoDY8qI-Tx7Kjl4U5I9cqysXh9pjn0PfwufG8S5B9W_4m44oatrSawd4D2dW1jgzV0fqiPKypK0MsnnfCuLcZc8INh3dKbpA/s1600/ella+bella.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY1mlvS7l4DZK6TXbRI0dnAJtMnY7ih4fyl8g1ouehtr-xqoDY8qI-Tx7Kjl4U5I9cqysXh9pjn0PfwufG8S5B9W_4m44oatrSawd4D2dW1jgzV0fqiPKypK0MsnnfCuLcZc8INh3dKbpA/s320/ella+bella.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Missing pig while still unmissing</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">News flash . . .</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>An urgent letter has just arrived from the missing Comrade editor Davusha who was last seen while investigating a lead about a missing pig named Bella Ella. We have made the bold decision to print the letter in full:</i><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Dear Comrade Editor Marienka,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I am writing to you from the Hotel Otrada in Odessa where I have been sequestered under heavy guard after being abducted from my home by two Russian thugs and a mysterious woman known only as </span>“<span style="font-size: 11pt;">Vixen</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;">.</span>”<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;"> After being forced to drink a cup of drugged eggnog, I awoke three days later to find myself thousands of miles away in overly luxurious surroundings.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I soon learned from the two Russian bodyguards who are my keepers that I am in a suite in the Hotel Otrada, the only five-star hotel in Odessa, where Teddy and the Throes happen to be staying during their Ukrainian tour. Aunt Ida and Mrs. Whimpersnapple are here as well, having come along to chaperone the boys on the tour. Mrs. Whimpersnapple, who grew up in Odessa, is acting as an interpreter for the band. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">It seems some Ukrainian oil tsar who calls himself Tamurlane is a big fan of Teddy and the Thoes’ song <i>Cold Drizzle</i></span><span style="font-size: 11pt;">, which was a huge hit in the Ukraine. The band had intended to end their tour before the holidays and spend Christmas at the Mucus farm in Oklahoma. But their plans went awry. Instead the boys are being forced to do eight more performances.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">According to a source I dare not name, I have been kidnapped because of my connection to the band. I have been </span>“<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;">encouraged" to write reviews of the performances for the Ukrainian newspapers praising the band and the benevolence of its new “sponsor” Tamurlane. If the band misses a performance, I am to be shot immediately and thrown into the Black Sea. “They” say we will all be free to leave Odessa after the band completes its tour with a special New Year's Eve performance at Tamurlane's palatial estate outside Odessa.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">One of my guards—André, as he calls himself (who knows what his real name is)—is a charming fellow, with a penchant for great literature. He has brought me many wonderful books to read during my imprisonment here. Currently I'm reading Marlowe's <i>Tamburlaine</i></span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"> in honor of our host.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Only the Throes, Aunt Ida, Mrs. Whimpersnapple, André, and I know that Teddy did not accompany the Throes on their Ukrainian tour. Tamurlane's people all think that Ludovic is Teddy because he is the front man for the group. I shudder to think what will to us all if Tamurlane finds out that Teddy is still in the states.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">If anything happens, I hope I can depend on André. He is risking his life to get this letter to you. I must say goodbye now before the other guard Vlad returns. He is not at all friendly, and I am certain we would all be done for if he intercepts this letter.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Comrade Editor Davushka<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Hotel Otrada<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Odessa</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 26px;">____________________</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1lu8hOmjQqAhv7YmjTlZ0lc6utBoa3rsTD03XaGTvmmKbEIUh3ixoBLeHAyJTOJvksLDzuFqXrCjDhOiCCOfKX9OMaJvcNLpQzAPq3ppyTOptB030fjCFOc7BuXW-Zy7jxzSceNwDpi0d/s1600/Liberty+of+London+velvet+burnous+c1900.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1lu8hOmjQqAhv7YmjTlZ0lc6utBoa3rsTD03XaGTvmmKbEIUh3ixoBLeHAyJTOJvksLDzuFqXrCjDhOiCCOfKX9OMaJvcNLpQzAPq3ppyTOptB030fjCFOc7BuXW-Zy7jxzSceNwDpi0d/s320/Liberty+of+London+velvet+burnous+c1900.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 31px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 26px;"> </span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>Fashions to Faint For<o:p></o:p></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">We are shocked—almost to the fainting point—to learn that our well-heeled society patronesses do not own opera cloaks. To remedy this shocking lack in their wardrobes, we are now offering an exclusive selection of opera coats to faint for . . . of course.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Fashions to Faint for is open by appointment only.<o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 11pt;">Contact Madame Urania Chanel de Newtoniere.</span></span></span></div></span></div>Dark Tea Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06957052694843692721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1742283427058974820.post-17550024109806361082010-12-23T20:45:00.000-08:002010-12-23T21:21:49.984-08:00Merry Christmas<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz9rHQVDVRjS6brTO-jXt_A_VvJLH-1clDgRsVEUBDmVEuCmL2KHx34ot8uOg5KqU-rpJ9_VLTSbsxHO1pAAf-ZcIZHtgDCCYzr1pI-L35UkKc6CCLXHewC0XM56EN_n-V85QUtcmpvDSY/s1600/Couple+with+Christmas+tree+Otto+Lendencje.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz9rHQVDVRjS6brTO-jXt_A_VvJLH-1clDgRsVEUBDmVEuCmL2KHx34ot8uOg5KqU-rpJ9_VLTSbsxHO1pAAf-ZcIZHtgDCCYzr1pI-L35UkKc6CCLXHewC0XM56EN_n-V85QUtcmpvDSY/s1600/Couple+with+Christmas+tree+Otto+Lendencje.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Couple with Christmas Tree</i>, Otto Lendecke, c. 1913</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Merry Christmas from </span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">all of us to all of you</span></i></b></span></div><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><i>Comrade Editor Marienka</i></span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><i>Comrade Editor Davushka (still missing)</i></span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><i>Comrade Staff Person Anon.</i></span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><i>Comrade Overcoat</i></span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><i>Comrade Undercover</i></span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><i>Beloved</i></span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><i>urania</i></span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><i>Baron von Kindle</i></span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><i>Comrade Housekeeper Netochka Nezvanova</i></span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><i>The Welsh Terrorists</i></span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><i>Cornikens</i></span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><i>Teddy</i></span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><i>Aunt Ida</i></span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><i>Teddy and the Throes</i></span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><i><br />
</i></span> </b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><i>and of course . . . Great Aunt Martha</i></span></b>Dark Tea Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06957052694843692721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1742283427058974820.post-49104133799767860092010-12-17T07:32:00.000-08:002010-12-23T16:39:30.628-08:00More mayhem at the dacha<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9MXADXSAew3Wl5ZHgziYECaaNIirR6XzwOQiK4wikpU0WHBBhl9TUAE4hhmdSjuJIJA4bdJE_yzaXjQVLXhz6QP4oFA2-mDNtMOkPuOPNPnOGEW4eZEKG4QXwvzxpz6QWDpWTTeTYXxhT/s1600/urania.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9MXADXSAew3Wl5ZHgziYECaaNIirR6XzwOQiK4wikpU0WHBBhl9TUAE4hhmdSjuJIJA4bdJE_yzaXjQVLXhz6QP4oFA2-mDNtMOkPuOPNPnOGEW4eZEKG4QXwvzxpz6QWDpWTTeTYXxhT/s1600/urania.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">urania sashays through Côte d'Azur</span></span></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">By Comrade Marienka<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Last Friday, the missing comrade parents were located in Minsk trying to catch a flight to Florida after having disappeared for two weeks. Although asked nicely to return to the dacha to reclaim their children and the hordes of dogs, cats, goats, and one stray pig, the comrade parents were firm. “We love our children, no,” said Mstislav Chaucerov, president of the Comrade Peasant Chaucerian Society, “but until April is redeclared the cruelest mouth, we will continue to strike.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">It looked as if tense and prolonged negotiations might be in order until Comrade housekeeper Netochka Nezvanova showed up with her Soviet-issue iron skillet in hand. “I beat head until parent see light. I no care about cruel month. Any month with comrade children is cruel.” Pyotr Kopunkov of the local DC (Dacha Constabulary) remarked, “Comrade Nezvanova can be most convincing.” The comrade children, their dogs, cats, and goats have bid farewell to Beloved and have returned to the homes of their nativity. No one has claimed the stray pig. An unnamed source told </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Long Dark Teatimes</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> that Comrade Nezvanova is quite disgruntled about the pig's presence at the dacha. When asked, Comrade Nezvanova responded tartly, “I know nada about this disgruntle. That pig he gruntled. He soon be bacon if no one claims.” Beloved has remonstrated with the strong-willed comrade housekeeper. “This will send urania into a relapse. She doesn't like bacon and she cries when pigs die.” Retorted Comrade Nezvanova, “If Comrade urania like pig so much, she come home and take care of. This pig vicious. It bite many people. I kick in snout.”</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> </span> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">As for urania, she is currently sashaying about the Côte d'Azur where she has been seen frequently in the company of the Earl of Macintosh much to the apparent gruntlement of Baron von Kindle, who merely grunts unintelligible curses under his breath when anyone brings up the Earl's name. Lady Eugenia Eugenica-Zwisherstufen, longtime friend of urania, confirmed she entertained urania, Baron von Kindle, and the Earl of Macintosh at her stately mansion in the Côte d'Azur this week. Asked about the presence of the Earl of Macintosh with the famous twosome, Lady Eugenia Eugenica-Zwisherstufen replied, “urania is always bringing barons and earls to my famous stately mansions. I really can't say more. These barons, these earls, they all start to look alike after a while-you know tallish, darkish, and apparently male, although these days one can never be sure.” A guest who asked not to be identified overheard the E. of M., invite urania to his "pad" to look at his apps. Said the unidentified guest, “I don't think the Baron von Kindle cares for this kind of earlish behavior. He stood by the bar all evening, twirling his mustache and drinking quantities of absinthe.” A distant relative of the Baron, Alice Cholmondeley Newton nee Nookie, who did ask to be identified, said, “He's been so totally, you know, Balzacian of late. I saw him this morning holding a copy of </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://booktimesdarkteatimes.blogspot.com/2010/12/give-us-more-saintly-orphans-ursule.html">Ursule Mirouët</a></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">. I mean, who reads a book like that. It's so totally outré. I think he must be, like, mad.”</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEsN5epoqhT0LLpXmP3DcgYJJ6jxInKaK-JWVmuUV0fqE6usCdlDpokD14QYVrA7OEvxrP2zS4Mnlns6hg_dNSZoEJhKXcKXK124_NpMIiC1Hnmizkq_qfBlpT6Qy_cJIdXCSrrTLwdFGs/s1600/aristotle+dayton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEsN5epoqhT0LLpXmP3DcgYJJ6jxInKaK-JWVmuUV0fqE6usCdlDpokD14QYVrA7OEvxrP2zS4Mnlns6hg_dNSZoEJhKXcKXK124_NpMIiC1Hnmizkq_qfBlpT6Qy_cJIdXCSrrTLwdFGs/s320/aristotle+dayton.jpg" width="287" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Aristotle Dayton days before his death</span></span></div></td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Mournful memorial service held</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">By Comrade Staff Person Anon.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">A memorial service was held yesterday for Aristotle Dayton, who died last year under deeply disturbing and suspicious circumstances. According to his friends, Aristotle had seemed distracted and worried for several months before his death. He was seen several times at the Prufrock Toast and Tea Room in the company of one Vlad Vsevolod believed to work for a Transylvanian crime syndicate. “It was all just so terrible,” sobbed Adelaide Psmith the fiancée of young Aristotle. One day he was a perfectly ordinary math genius. And then he meets this Vlad person. I don't know what happened, but his hair never returned to its normal position.” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">According to colleagues at Harvard, in the last month of his life, Aristotle became intransigently mute and spent his days madly scribbling incomprehensible equations on the backs of shopping lists. So advanced was his mania for shopping lists, that he loitered in grocery stores, usually by the grapefruits. When an unsuspecting matron arrived, Dayton would quickly unzip his pants, and while the hitherto unsuspecting matron screamed he would seize her grocery list and leg it for the nearest exit. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">A brilliant young mathematician and part-time detective, Euphrosyne Newton (the last female link to the brilliant Lady Fig Newton) is convinced that Aristotle Dayton's final mad scribblings were anything but mad; rather, she believes they were coded messages. She could not be reached for comment.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijIIF2A6y0tJmAWsPnJ0Zus3-MKEVn794zL81bKW3ZpaOwycu0JnirGSLgJHAYE1XMfgc99O9OagwZW7V7kgfWIu16KZ18Bt88xYAAr63wZ9jxGH0WwsDdcmcuX6Cq_FNAndIcpvK6y_0O/s1600/Cornikens+in+Library.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijIIF2A6y0tJmAWsPnJ0Zus3-MKEVn794zL81bKW3ZpaOwycu0JnirGSLgJHAYE1XMfgc99O9OagwZW7V7kgfWIu16KZ18Bt88xYAAr63wZ9jxGH0WwsDdcmcuX6Cq_FNAndIcpvK6y_0O/s320/Cornikens+in+Library.gif" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Cornikens in his Soho library</span></span></div></td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Prostrate perturbances in Soho love nest</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">By Comrade Overcoat (filling in for missing Comrade Davushka)<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Cornikens (Aloysius Balthazar Cornelius Mucus to his colleagues) collapsed in his Soho apartment today after receiving a letter from former colleague Schneida von Schnacken. Said </span>Teddy Mucus-Smythe-Mucus his long-time lover and co-owner of Soho's vintage Tupperware gallery, T. Septimus Glass, “In the interests of delicacy, diplomacy, discretion, devotion, and decorum, I cannot talk about the contents of the letter. All I can say is relations between Cornikens and Schneida have been vexed for years.” The vexatious relationship dates back to the days when Cornikens was a Professor of English and Popular Culture at UNYU.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">In an infamous rencontre between Cornikens and von Schnacken at the annual MLA (Modern Language Association) conference, von Schnacken accused Cornikens of covert Derridean deceit for identifying a Tupperware cake holder as a cheap Transylvanian imitation. At the time Cornikens was presenting a paper entitled </span>“Tupperware and the Erotics of Polyethylene Populism in 1960s America.” Cornikens denied the accusation but subsequently resigned from his job at UNYU.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Cornikens is currently recovering in his sumptuous library and reading <i>Murder at the MLA</i>. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsd6yFeTb3gBC6ufy-v9LNpo6ej3f921OQT9LbbUoyJRAFIkPoAs4DvwXUL3xQymq1k0xKFqa102Jd7t7gi6ZzQDym87u3we611dub1CTonsRyixqnH6z5q5GV376c-Afcg3j8ucPDG_OT/s1600/Comrade+Davushka.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsd6yFeTb3gBC6ufy-v9LNpo6ej3f921OQT9LbbUoyJRAFIkPoAs4DvwXUL3xQymq1k0xKFqa102Jd7t7gi6ZzQDym87u3we611dub1CTonsRyixqnH6z5q5GV376c-Afcg3j8ucPDG_OT/s320/Comrade+Davushka.jpg" width="213" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Have you seen Comrade Davushka?</span></span></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">News Flash . . .</span></span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></b><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Comrade editor Davushka mysteriously vanished last Monday while investigating a lead about a missing pig who goes by the name Bella Ella. Consternation and worriment awoke when he did not return to the Dark Tea Times office to file his report. A local comrade peasant reported seeing a mysterious stranger entering Comrade Davushka's humble Soviet-issue apartment. Said the terrified comrade peasant who asked not to be identified, “That stranger, he be Transylvanian crime boss. I know. Those Transylvanian crime bosses all look same. Mysterious.” When the local DC entered Comrade Davushka's apartment, they found a highlighted copy of “The Night before Christmas” on his kitchen table and a hoof-marked note signed “Vixen.” Dacha Constabulary officials have refused to divulge the contents of the note.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVc4vqmpVo_TyBfHeTZod28VmrE14Pr-ffiUsfbTjfHg7cdAN7-0r8ubTiIBzAGmrcfbyV9rQjokLl3JufQPUeROGHB3f2Nfpa0bVXmPUfXI3bnoSks8beOfQrT4qGBi0j4ESApPgLh1dq/s1600/dior+frock.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVc4vqmpVo_TyBfHeTZod28VmrE14Pr-ffiUsfbTjfHg7cdAN7-0r8ubTiIBzAGmrcfbyV9rQjokLl3JufQPUeROGHB3f2Nfpa0bVXmPUfXI3bnoSks8beOfQrT4qGBi0j4ESApPgLh1dq/s320/dior+frock.png" width="150" /></a></div><br />
<b>Fashions to Faint For</b><br />
<br />
Christmas is just a week away and you obviously <i>have not been looking</i> for the present that will please her best. Fashions to Faint For does not support those who do their holiday shopping forty-five minutes before tasteful boutiques close on Christmas Eve. We believe such people should take up knitting. Thus our policy is to stop all appointments at some random time in this final week before Christmas. This date will not be announced. Madame Urania Chanel-Newtoniere will simply leave for her holiday at an unnamed exclusive location in Switzerland . . . when you're not looking. So don't delay. Come today. If you're fortunate, you may be able to get an appointment.<br />
<br />
Fashions to Faint For is open by appointment only.<br />
Contact Madame Urania de Chanel-Newtoniere.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span>Dark Tea Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06957052694843692721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1742283427058974820.post-16143614755985230732010-11-26T19:53:00.000-08:002010-11-26T23:00:23.276-08:00Annual Mucus gathering fraught with tension<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI56hU0qziEMZLMWsCt1mpPGsbHdX05UhxTE4q30WNEa5IT3kModfdUM7rLMt9xasdrDYhemAruteZqqSis25DsdWkaynMmklYyxjjfX8aDU2fBM3SMrRiJDH_zoNDUD1fqDOHzZPB6bcU/s1600/Aunt+Clare1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI56hU0qziEMZLMWsCt1mpPGsbHdX05UhxTE4q30WNEa5IT3kModfdUM7rLMt9xasdrDYhemAruteZqqSis25DsdWkaynMmklYyxjjfX8aDU2fBM3SMrRiJDH_zoNDUD1fqDOHzZPB6bcU/s320/Aunt+Clare1.jpg" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Clara Psmith before Jude Mucus jumped.</td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;">By Comrade Editors Marienka and Davushka<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;">Having drawn the short straw once again, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 15px;">Cornikins </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 15px;">(known in professional circles as </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 15px;">Aloysius Balthazar Cornelius Mucus</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 15px;">) and his long time lover Teddy hosted the annual Mucus family Thanksgiving dinner. The Vermont Mucuses, headed by family matriarch Great Aunt Martha Mucus (relic of the late Henry “Commodore” Mucus) attended. The Pennsylvania Psmiths (who came over on the Mayflower but under a different name) also made an appearance, as did dear old Aunt Ida of the Oklahoma Mucuses. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;">Unsurprisingly, tensions were rife as Great Aunt Martha Mucus and Cousin Clara Psmith refused to acknowledge each other’s presence. The mutual enmity between the two parties dates back twenty years when that irresponsible rake Jude Mucus refused to seduce Cousin Clara. (He jumped out a window after Clara had maneuvered him onto the bearskin rug in the library.) <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;">Asked if she had any comment about the longstanding quarrel, Great Aunt Martha replied, “If you knew Clara as I do, you would have jumped too.” Cousin Clara was equally forthcoming. “In the spirit of Thanksgiving, we should not speak ill of the dead”—the dead in this case being Jude Mucus who broke his neck after the three-story tumble from the Psmith family mansion. “All I can say is good riddance to Jude Mucus.” Fortunately Cousin Clara and Great Aunt Martha are on speaking terms with dear old Aunt Ida, although Great Aunt Martha rather condescendingly remarked, “Those Oklahoma Mucuses, poor things, wouldn't know the difference between fine vintage Tupperware and a Rubbermaid container.” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;">Asked what he thought about the dinner, Teddy sighed heavily and said, “Thank goodness for dear old Aunt Ida. She’s such a calming influence at these family events. And my dear, I simply could not have managed in the kitchen without her. Her famous pies and her acorn squash casserole—oh my they are simply to die for.” We have heard Aunt Ida also makes a mean curried chicken. However, she did not prepare one for the party. “Oh dear,” she said, “I know sweet young Ludovic does like his curry. But I always feel these large family gatherings are hot enough without the curry.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;">As usual, the Russian existentialist folk Goth band Teddy and the Throes, led by Ludovic Mucus, performed after dinner. This year’s selection came from their 2009 hit <i>Cold Christmas</i></span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;">. Admittedly the music was grim and angst-ridden, but last year the prestigious music journal <i>Anharmonics</i></span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;"> called the songs “Cold Drizzle,” and “Nada, nada, Christmas nada,” the most important contributions to musical history since Beethoven.</span> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlejD_x_0wp14l8_CItyw3xSna-84WQuk2svOXjGtb3Yl8y8MbM05CtpG1vqeL1b4GQPsvF1svUXeanCTBmzmRReR86B4dQSMxEsxuQRqPI_BsIMldE_dtZocicXKzPqDPBPeLeOl8iGsm/s1600/comrade+children.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlejD_x_0wp14l8_CItyw3xSna-84WQuk2svOXjGtb3Yl8y8MbM05CtpG1vqeL1b4GQPsvF1svUXeanCTBmzmRReR86B4dQSMxEsxuQRqPI_BsIMldE_dtZocicXKzPqDPBPeLeOl8iGsm/s320/comrade+children.jpg" width="290" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">Comrade children come in from the cold.</div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>Meanwhile back at the dacha . . .</b></span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;">By Comrade Staff Person Anon.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;">Comrade Beloved was busier than usual this Thanksgiving after opening the dacha to local comrade children whose parents have mysteriously vanished. The comrade children brought with them an assorted menagerie of goats, chickens, dogs, cats, and one stray pig.” Comrade Beloved took the situation in stride. “They have to go somewhere,” he said. “I can’t send them to the local kennel, and the poor dears would cry without their pets.” Comrade housekeeper Netochka Nezvanova was less patient. “Comrade Beloved, he do nada. He no cook. I cook. Children no like good Russian borscht and blood pudding. They want decadent western junk food. I feed blood pudding anyway. They complain, I spank.” To maintain her equanimity, Comrade Nezvanova is reading </span><span style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 11pt;"><a href="http://booktimesdarkteatimes.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-family: Times;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;">The Shortest Way to Hades</span></i></span></a></span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;">.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;">There is still no word on the missing parents. “We are looking into the matter,” said an unnamed DC (Dacha Constabulary) spokesperson. “Better he look fast, or I come after with iron skillet,” Comrade Nezvanova commented curtly. “Children and goats all jumping on Comrade urania’s fainting couch. She no like. Comrade Beloved he be in trouble again.” Welsh terrorist Wilkie of the dreaded Dacha Office of Guerilla Gulag Yaptivities (DOGGY for short) has been seen sniffing around the scene of the crime, if crime indeed it is.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20px;">And what about urania? She was last seen at the exclusive French clothing galley Fashions to Faint For, purchasing Fortuny dresses and hand embroidered (by Norwegian nuns) nightwear. “Doctors are optimistic she will recover completely from her ill-fated birthday trauma,” said Jarek Ňadra, urania’s personal spokesperson and sometime bra designer for the glitterati.</span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVrK94DoGyN6Wf5N0wSw-2P5Hf8uowKaRiI3Vx4vekuzWRWdyUJYXA25nJ-BauPWWljoByo37ChNywkh_PVWxFTDuX2SVYLnX0t4jj9F_IFi9NTBr-kaUZ_i-DvyJFfXsg75BH4eWpesvg/s1600/Russian+coat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVrK94DoGyN6Wf5N0wSw-2P5Hf8uowKaRiI3Vx4vekuzWRWdyUJYXA25nJ-BauPWWljoByo37ChNywkh_PVWxFTDuX2SVYLnX0t4jj9F_IFi9NTBr-kaUZ_i-DvyJFfXsg75BH4eWpesvg/s200/Russian+coat.jpg" width="150" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;"> </span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;"><b>Fashions to Faint For</b></span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;">Fashions to Faint For has just received an exclusive delivery of fashions that will make one faint with delight. Our Fortuny gowns and French coats are exquisite, destined to become collector’s items by Christmas. One is advised not to delay as Christmas is not far way.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;">Fashions to Faint For is open by appointment only.<o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 11pt;">Contact Madame Urania de Chanel-Newtoniere.</span>Dark Tea Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06957052694843692721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1742283427058974820.post-79778260394268130882010-11-19T21:39:00.000-08:002010-11-26T22:58:09.800-08:00Tupperware convention no cause for Thanksgiving<div style="text-align: left;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQO0uDy_gGPH5oyzkoxAcOUv_dIzF3Ns40RiUm7rH25xdScUeBhV4yxOS9DScVjpzYaOS97MKHUECUmh4Ei3LI4SJMeHvJAbUC0XNfy6OhtHkzBJnYj6hJB7RMZtipNMqi32nOMJQpA1CX/s1600/Cornikins.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQO0uDy_gGPH5oyzkoxAcOUv_dIzF3Ns40RiUm7rH25xdScUeBhV4yxOS9DScVjpzYaOS97MKHUECUmh4Ei3LI4SJMeHvJAbUC0XNfy6OhtHkzBJnYj6hJB7RMZtipNMqi32nOMJQpA1CX/s320/Cornikins.jpg" width="251" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Cornikins Mucus in happier days</span></span></td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">By Comrade Editors Marienka and Davushka<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Today an anonymous source revealed that Cornikins Mucus is currently suffering from a complete nervous collapse due to the upcoming pressure of hosting the annual Thanksgiving gathering of the Mucus clan, leaving Teddy Mucus-Smythe-Mucus, his long-time lover and co-owner of</span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Soho's vintage Tupperware gallery, T. Septimus Glass, to shop for the Thanksgiving gala as well as finalize details for the annual ATTA (American Tupperware and Tea Association) Convention to be held in January.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Rumor has it that relations between “ATTA Grrls” and “Teddy and the Throes,” the two bands scheduled to play at the annual ATTA dance, have become increasingly tense over the last month. Yesterday, ATTA Grrl's lead singer Nora Velvet hurled her leather panties at Teddy accusing him of “nepotistical favoritism.” Teddy's nephew Leonard “Ludovic” Mucus is the composer and lead singer for Teddy and the Throes. When questioned, a flustered Teddy said, “It's all just a tempest in a Thanksgiving teapot. The whole affair will be forgotten by the Ides of March.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Young Ludovic seemed unworried. “Nepotistical,” he asked, “Is that a word?” None of the other Throes could be reached for comment. Meanwhile ATTA officials are investigating possible wrong doing on the part of Mr. Mucus Smythe-Mucus.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Asked how he was managing the stress, Teddy replied? I read a chapter of </span><span style="color: windowtext; text-decoration: none;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><a href="http://booktimesdarkteatimes.blogspot.com/">Illyrian Spring</a></span></i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> each night before going to bed. How does he find the time? “I have an excellent assistant at the gallery, Ms. Vera Pol,” Teddy said.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">How fortunate during this tsamni of turmoil, tension, and possible turpitude, Vera Pol, an innocent Czech lass who normally dusts Tupperware at the gallery, has stepped up to the plate and is running T. Septimus Glass almost single-handedly these days.</span> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxvcPFuhyVb9oiap4m7mU1NtlRhi_A7HWZ48Zbq_Z9qlp4TioAAMDrAtAZkxCW6qbeMiEKCkwhmXzS_i3YU5yDXfxh2s-JFeR_ZLwCmYh_Smh6UiGXTORFcclq2tNj23NUGh-xSV9YakvN/s1600/Wilkie1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxvcPFuhyVb9oiap4m7mU1NtlRhi_A7HWZ48Zbq_Z9qlp4TioAAMDrAtAZkxCW6qbeMiEKCkwhmXzS_i3YU5yDXfxh2s-JFeR_ZLwCmYh_Smh6UiGXTORFcclq2tNj23NUGh-xSV9YakvN/s1600/Wilkie1.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Welsh terrorist Wilkie goes ballistic . . . again.</span></span></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><b>Meanwhile, back at the Dacha . . .</b><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal">By Comrade Staff Person Anon.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Sparks flew at the Dacha last Wednesday after Welsh terrorist Wilkie uncovered a chemistry set in a dusty corner of the Dacha lumber room and started “experimenting.” “Bombs, bombs everywhere. World War III, no,” said an unidentified comrade peasant. It is unclear how the chemistry set got in the lumber room in the first place. According to Comrade housekeeper Netochka Nezvanova, former eponymous heroine of Dostoevsky's unfinished novel, Beloved gave urania the chemistry set last Christmas. “Chemistry set,” sniffed Comrade Nezvanova, “Comrade Beloved, he know nada. If he my husband, I come after him with iron skillet. He learn fast how to choose gift for lady.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Fortunately urania's Soviet-issue fainting couch escaped unscathed, although a roof beam fell smashing a rare Sevres tea service personally commissioned by Louis XV and presented to Lady Urania Fig Newton in 1763. “Nothing that a little Elmer's Glue and duct tape won't fix,” said Beloved about the tea service. As for the roof beam, “I should be able to get it up and working in an hour so.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Comrade Nezvanova expressed doubt. “Hour,” she scoffed. “Comrade Beloved building dacha for 20 year. It still have no cabinet door. I no look for cabinet door or roof in my life. He work maybe 40 more year, he still not finish cabinet door or roof beam.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">As for Welsh terrorist Wilkie, Beloved said, “I found a copy of <i>Winner-Take-All Politics: How Washington Made the Rich Richer—and Turned Its Back on the Middle Classes</i></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"> in his room. We try to keep political literature away from him. It raises his blood pressure and sometimes the roof beams. But I guess I just slipped up this time.”</span> </span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAF0LG6ZIGEa1_8wKSavraPV6w7AFfst_UPgjo7LvIGPvmRL37pBFPiSZ8LF4Jep0nT6iDQ98WGUBzY7BKUklMkVtS87bl_tbeFEDtO3EuYsCM7sB06JHk2Ry74bqzRieELOK8ApFdAQJ4/s1600/Defarge.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="375" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAF0LG6ZIGEa1_8wKSavraPV6w7AFfst_UPgjo7LvIGPvmRL37pBFPiSZ8LF4Jep0nT6iDQ98WGUBzY7BKUklMkVtS87bl_tbeFEDtO3EuYsCM7sB06JHk2Ry74bqzRieELOK8ApFdAQJ4/s640/Defarge.png" width="640" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This edition was published when </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">you</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> weren't looking. For updates, wait until you're not looking. Who knows what you'll see.</span> </div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"> </span></span></div></span>Dark Tea Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06957052694843692721noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1742283427058974820.post-20368408173231974012010-11-15T16:11:00.000-08:002010-11-26T20:36:15.023-08:00November is the cruelest month<div style="text-align: left;"></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjavvtcuFDpKX9LKLZ2sQvT1MWpOkUd_bpqqzgzsUoLhVP2uTcPCvlXfodBzVsXeDCeRWGSFyI7cULyjFt55z-VBaHLmaXudc9wSY_1m4TYfIE2eAuM3-g0PwmbNxPq2S-kL5ig3QD2SwIe/s1600/warnerbootkid2.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjavvtcuFDpKX9LKLZ2sQvT1MWpOkUd_bpqqzgzsUoLhVP2uTcPCvlXfodBzVsXeDCeRWGSFyI7cULyjFt55z-VBaHLmaXudc9wSY_1m4TYfIE2eAuM3-g0PwmbNxPq2S-kL5ig3QD2SwIe/s320/warnerbootkid2.png" width="215" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;"></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Beloved's birthday booboo. urania's </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">friends worried.</span></div></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">By Comrade Editor Marienka</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In a surprising break with tradition, a local comrade official announced today that henceforth "November will be the cruelest month." Speculation is rife as to the cause; however, anonymous comrade ministers declined to comment on the grounds that they might become eponymous.</span><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #1a1a1a; letter-spacing: 1pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Mstislav Chaucerov, president of</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> the Comrade Peasant Chaucerian Society, filed a complaint with the ministry early this afternoon. "We protest this blasphemous action," Chaucerov said, "and we will resort to hanging size 48 D-cup bras in the trees at the ministry headquarters if necessary." We sincerely hope it does not come to this. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">On other fronts, it does appear as if November is the cruelest month. Today is dear urania's birthday, but all is not happiness and harmony at the dacha. Beloved, showing a not unwonted knack for and tact in choosing appropriate birthday gifts, presented urania with a Warner's Rustproof Corset and a card reading, "May you use this day to take stock of your life." urania collapsed on her Soviet-issue fainting couch in tears. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">At a press conference late this afternoon, Jarek Ňadra, bra designer for the glitterati and urania’s personal spokesperson said, "I fear Paris is the only solution." The wicked but seductive Baron von Kindle is expected to accompany urania on this foray if she recovers. "Naturally, Beloved's actions were a shock," said Ňadra. "However Baron von Kindle gave her an inscribed edition of a depressing novel by Balzac. That should cheer her up." Mrs. Martha Mucus relic of the late Henry "Commodore" Mucus and great aunt to urania said, "I don't know what all the fuss is about. That little trollop should have been locked up in a corset years ago to keep her from trolloping down the garden path." Great Aunt Martha declined to reveal which garden path. We hope it was the right one. </span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBFeXCAuqLSAp9l0nBhJQp4I6fn12jYeBD_ByPR4hvHCykWPonn-EEksJjoNXmRx2znkodQwftxFNpMadA3453jsKh63z_Fy8bI11zb1aDIO_bBfzuksn3xQb1Rw2ivzy0u_Z5FWiGlbFq/s1600/image.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBFeXCAuqLSAp9l0nBhJQp4I6fn12jYeBD_ByPR4hvHCykWPonn-EEksJjoNXmRx2znkodQwftxFNpMadA3453jsKh63z_Fy8bI11zb1aDIO_bBfzuksn3xQb1Rw2ivzy0u_Z5FWiGlbFq/s640/image.png" width="326" /></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Book Notes</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">By Comrade Undercover<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Recently, I finished, </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Bab: A Sub-Deb</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, a heart-rending story about a young lady, who is a cross between Cassandra of </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I Capture the Castle</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> fame and Nancy Drew. Although her family and her most unsympathetic </span></span><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">older</span></span></u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> sister construe her innocent actions as indiscretions with THE OTHER SEX, she perseveres. As for Leila, the older sister, she is merely jealous because she cannot manage to land a husband. Altogether Bab is a charming young lady although her orthography leaves much to be desired. And on the subject of debutantes, I have just finished Dorothy Canfield’s </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Squirrel Cage</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, a deeply moving story about a wealthy young debutante, who wishes to live in Thoreau-like simplicity in a one-room shack in the woods. Unfortunately, her family wishes to sacrifice her on THE ALTAR OF HIGH SOCIETY (and a wealthy marriage with the handsome Paul Hollister, an ambitious seeker of filthy lucre).</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">High times and high tea</span></span></b><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">By Comrade Editor Davushka<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Dear old Aunt Ida Mucus of the Oklahoma Mucuses has invited the entire Mucus clan for high tea to commemorate urania's birthday. Great Aunt Martha has consented to lend her fine china and her silver tea service on the express condition that everyone maintains proper posture during tea. No slouching. Aunt Martha insists it is hard on the fine china and she will be watching everyone like a hawk.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigf2CYSWhTUmhyphenhyphen5N7Zn_1TTFInnqqrbfFP3nspjl2_Z5SGwJxsBhDuHy6RB_VtBxMz6iqmOdnV3j-7aEwpV8DssvaMxE9UoDuC5oAF1ZE6IGnLgTO3V4pQv3OaDpGELvkcuiynG55YlZ36/s1600/Aunt+Ida1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigf2CYSWhTUmhyphenhyphen5N7Zn_1TTFInnqqrbfFP3nspjl2_Z5SGwJxsBhDuHy6RB_VtBxMz6iqmOdnV3j-7aEwpV8DssvaMxE9UoDuC5oAF1ZE6IGnLgTO3V4pQv3OaDpGELvkcuiynG55YlZ36/s1600/Aunt+Ida1.jpg" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Aunt Ida</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Dear old Aunt Ida has baked a beautiful cake and all sorts of sweets and pastries. After tea there will be a poetry reading and a piano recital. We at the </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">DarkTea Times </span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">wish Aunt Martha well. In future editions of our paper, we hope to publish some of Aunt Martha's famous recipes lest they vanish in the mists of antiquity forever.</span></span></div></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span id="goog_886167766"></span><span id="goog_886167767"></span></span></span></span>Dark Tea Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06957052694843692721noreply@blogger.com0