This dude can take eight requests at a time, and refill your inkwell!
Perhaps we should set him up with this lovely Muslim octopus:
and now, a haiku Twitter octopus joke from Chris Twitery:
knock knock knock knock knock
knock knock knock who’s there? Not that
octopus again
You know how I love the cephalopod humor!
I think I’m gonna make eight octopus posts/images/jokes today. Three more just landed in my lap.
Kudos to Chris T.
His haiku made me blow snot
Upon my keyboard.
I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.
Thanks for your comments – glad you like my octopus haiku – and that you love octopus – I do too – grilled – or served like this
Octopus dumplings / okonomiyaki sauce / that’s takoyaki /// #haiku (my first Japanese haiku heheh) :)
adios
Chris Twitery Loft
Chris T. is the dude
Who owes me a new keyboard.
His haiku was great.
This is the formula to the last psycho on Earth.
Simply we kill the octopus,and there will be no more psycho.
But how could we kill a octopus?
(I am very ashamed of remembering this episody,but seems that the hooligans of Liverpool who were on Heysel Stadium have a somewhat notion).
Anyway,if we cannot kill him,we can make the own octopus psycho.
Neurotic he is already.You can repair the way the octopus laugh : it is like empty.
I do not know him well.He is always saying in many ways that he owns the right to survive.
Where we agree a octopus is smarter than the mosquito,because,at less,the mosquito we try to kill.(Well,I am not sure the octopus is smarter than the mosquito.)
But we deserve the world without psychos!
More octopus please. I love my mollusca.
I am looking for the fake octopus,I know he exists.
Everybody knows that an octopus isn’t a homo-sapiens.
Sometimes an octopus thinks he is a homo-sapiens,but in these case he is denying his roots.There is nothing like an octopus-sapiens.
But I still search for the true fake octopus.
I do not believe I ever saw an octopus,but people told me he is inhuman.
Probably because there is still psychos.
It is a good arguement.
You see,Sean Killian wrote: “Your never living until you die”.Psycho.The octopus told nasty stories to him.
And I like Sean;Sean is human!
@Umberto–
That was Google Translate at it’s best!
“Neurotic he is already.You can repair the way the octopus laugh : it is like empty.”
[...] zen haiku: knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock who’s there? Not that octopus again [...]
“Sometimes an octopus thinks he is a homo-sapiens, but in these case he is denying his roots. There is nothing like an octopus-sapiens.”
Absolutely nothing is truer than that. Umberto, un cuaderno del mis caracoles azules, tiene muchos pences que son verdad. =)
The first pic reminds me of the gentleman who walked into a bar with an octopus in a basket on his arm.
“You can’t bring that octopus in here,” warned the bartender.
“Really?” asked the gent, “That’d be a shame. This here is Oscar, the world’s only musical octopus.”
“Musical, is he?” the bartender mused, “Alright,” he declared, “Let’s see if he can handle that guitar on the stage. And if he’s any good, I’ll give you a free beer.”
“No problem,” said the other.
He tipped out the octopus on the stage by the guitar. After a short pause to sort out his arms, the creature began dashing off melifluous flamenco rythms.”
“Pretty impressive,” said the bartender, pouring the man a beer, “Can he handle the piano?”
In answer, the man snapped his fingers and pointed. The octopus put down the guitar and slithered across to the upright box. Shortly, a ragtime tune filled the bar.
The bartender pulled another beer, then excused himself to the back office for a moment. He returned with a mid-sized case which he put on the bar.
“If he can play this,” he said, “You drink free until closing.”
“No problem,” replied the other, fetching the octopus from the stage and placing it atop the bar by the case.
The bartender opened the case to reveal a gleaming set of bagpipes. The reaction was instantaneous. The octopus leapt on the pipes, and the two rolled off the bar in a whirling confusion of arms, pipes, and plaid.
“Well it looks like he’s met his match there,” said the bartender, conversationally.
“No, no,” replied the owner, “Once he figures out he can’t ₤µ©λ it, he’ll play.”
Which is more or less how I remember all of your gigs at that rockabilly dive, Metro.
Also, if you think there’s no such thing as Octopus Sapiens, wait till you see the pic I have of Lady Gaga. It explains SO MUCH.
Also: octopi are not mollusks. They are cephalopods. BIG difference, and BOY is Cthulhu pissed at you now.
You remember stuff?
My understanding is that your childhood is crystal clear, your alleged adulthood a complete blur, and your current second childhood even foggier.
The effects are noticeable, as in when you castigate one for referring to octopi as “molluscs” when the word used was in fact “musical.”
And Cthulhu is surely welcome in an octopus’s garden in the shade?
You can be the walrus, if you like. I understand the post has been vacant for some years.
One always has crystal clear recollection of traumatic events.
Oh, and that fundamentalist Muslim octopus’s name? Habibibibibibibibi of course.
@ Metro– Can I be one of the Eggmen? I make a mean spanish omelette.
@Bunk:
Really? I had you down for being me, or possibly Rocky in a later production.
@metro–
Flying squirrels are cool. I could do that.
“Hokey Smokes, Bullwinkle, you mean you never realized that your parents named you after a bovine penis?”
Actually I had in mind something a whiter shade of pale.
Here, a moving tribute to people with too much time and too many kids on their hands:
Oh, and no appreciation for song titles or spelling either.
Actually, I’m thinking if there’s no such thing as an octopus-sapiens, how do you explain the last three men I dated?