Bullshit Goes Here

Good golly, Dog Blog appears to have picked up a lot of new commentators this weekend (or should I say, “a lot” of “new” commentators?). I’m a little concerned that the flurry of silly chatter will derail any chance of relevant, on-topic discussion–Dechene’s excellent vaccination post, for instance, descended into I’m not even sure what, which might drive away non-stocking-based humans with something to say about the subject.

On the other hand I don’t wanna squash fun. So if your name is, to randomly pick some examples, William Kempe, Nell Gwyn, Kent Tatter-Pillar, Chrissy, Jayson Wielcze, Patty, Pam or Spam-I-Am, and you want your very own sprawling, tangent-filled comment thread, this post is for you (and anyone else who wants to join in).

And now here’s another video about sock puppets for no reason at all.

Author: Stephen Whitworth

Prairie Dog editor Stephen Whitworth was carried to Regina in a swarm of bees. He's been with Prairie Dog since May 1999 and will die at his keyboard before admitting his career a terrible, terrible mistake.

116 thoughts on “Bullshit Goes Here”

  1. I was delighted by the new blood, at least on the Swashbucklers post. I’m just hoping these people are real!

  2. Dear Mr. President,

    There are too many states nowadays. Please, eliminate three.

    P.S. I am not a crackpot

  3. #3 North + South Dakota = Saskadota; West Virginia + Virginia = The United State ‘o Virginia ; Idaho + Wyoming = Armpit.

    There, three states *OUTTA THERE*

    Prez O’

  4. Displacement to the boondocks
    Is like the back seats on the bus;
    But if it’s good enough for Dan MacRae,
    It’s good enough for us!

  5. I dunno ’bout you, but I’ve been having fun singing every one of Mr. Kempe’s verses to the tune of “The Yellow Rose of Texas”.

  6. Dear Friends in the Back of the Bus:

    Sad day, when B.S. brings more hits
    than “legitimate” postings do;
    But that’s to be expected
    with the talent shown by you!!

  7. Will? Have ye heard the good news, man? The tenants have organized! We shall all be vaccinated soon!!

  8. Woman, hold thy tongue, lest we be banish’ed yet again!! One more demotion on the website, Nell, and we may find ourselves in the magazine itself!!

  9. Thy fears are entirely without foundation, Will. What purpose would be served, what greater good achieved with our banishment from the back o’ the bus and transposition to the mag? The mag’s not for the likes of us, Will. The mag is for … The mag is for … Enlighten me, sir, I beseech thee. What IS the magazine for?

  10. Let me finish, woman. Hear me out, I say. The magazine is a cherished text, a sacred scroll for all who seek —

  11. Aye, sir, t’is a fact. I have heard this oft spoke by others more learned than ourselves.

  12. Those typo wienies, Barb and Nick;
    She’s been described as “reasonable,”
    but he’s been called a —


    Seems strange, to me,
    in times of woe,
    that Whitworth’s focus
    is the crow;
    Dechene, at least,
    creates sensation,
    pronouncing on
    the vaccination;
    And as for Beatty,
    well, he’s tardy,
    reporting on
    a days-old party;
    If that’s the best
    that they can do,
    I’d sooner have
    a joke from you.

  14. I do recall the lady was popular in her day, Will, but alas, slant rhyme has run its course.

  15. She’ll be remembered, Nell, for her unconventional capitalization, and a stubborn refusal to lend titles to her works.

  16. Indeed, dear Will, without titles t’is difficult betimes to distinguish one of poor Em’s poems from another.

  17. #25 Your limited capacity to discourse on this gentle subject, madame, would be enhanced greatly if ye would attend a school occasionally as opposed to merely closing them.

  18. Forgive him, madame. He suffers from the gout at one end and is afflicted by the run ‘o mouth at t’other.

  19. #35: It’s all right, my good man. The repartee merely reminded me of our subterranean furry friends. The message – and prose delivery – was merely a happy coincidence. Carry on.

  20. Anon gives us Chipmunks,
    Whitworth offers crow;
    In place of thoughtful blogging,
    We get Doolittle’s show.


    Alas, the Dans have moved away,
    In search of bigger game;
    They’ve left us Jayden Pfeifer, aye,
    But it doesn’t seem the same.

  22. With verses tart and rare on point,
    And Barb under attack;
    Kempe’s call for thoughtful blogging
    Is pot calling the kettle black.

  23. #44 Ah, this brings merry sport, indeed! The game’s afoot at last! Let us hear more of it, Anon!

  24. Sweet Nell, this pub, The Pot & Kettle, of which ye speak. Hard by O’Hanlon’s, was it not?

  25. Nay, that’s The Copper Kettle, Will. The Pot & Kettle was situated on eclectic 13th Avenue. It was razed many a year ago to clear space for a Safeway grocery store.

  26. #44 Friend, let us meet, then, on the morrow, where once stood the Pot & Kettle. Water pistols at 20 paces! I demand satisfaction! I will smite, smote, smate thee!

  27. Pray, silence, Nell,
    I speak of duels, not love;
    Will Kempe does not step back an inch,
    When push gives way to shove!

  28. #57
    HAHrricane good,
    or HAHrricane bad?
    For there’s HAHrricane glad,
    and there’s HAHrricane sad.

  29. To Whom It May Concern (Or Not):

    In a time of grief and mourning, dear friends, t’would gladden my heart and lift my spirits to be addressed by you respectfully e’re after as the Widow Gwyn, for I have lost dear William.
    Master Kempe has breathed his last.

    “Here lies a Gent
    Gone to his Maker,
    Accepted a ride
    From Cindy Baker;
    He paid his fare,
    She wished him luck,
    But he failed to see
    The half-ton truck;
    His way was right,
    His will was strong,
    But he’s just as dead
    As if he’d been wrong.”


  30. #61 I’ll not play false with thee, good master. For as long as it shalt beat in my breast, this heart belongs to Whitworth.

  31. Aye, the very Stephen Whitworth who reduced our status, yours and mine, Will, from commentators to bullshitters, while allowing the likes of MacRae and Fresh Jr. to pronounce where they please.

  32. Ha! The last laugh shall we ours, sweet Nell. ‘Tis said the rascal Whitworth is driving the magazine into the ground.

  33. I must needs depart, my sweet.
    I am newly arrived here and St. Peter is about to call the roll.

  34. Time for us to move along,
    and just before we do,
    we’d like to take a moment
    to thank every one of you.

    Stay healthy, be happy.

    WK, NG

  35. Coming this spring to a playhouse near you, “Once Upon a Midnight, Dearie,” an original Prairie Dodge production.
    The cast of live actors, not puppeteers, will feature William Kempe and Nell Gwyn, with Upstart “Crow” Marten as narrator.
    Our story is set in an unspecific time, at a bed-and-breakfast called The Pot & Kettle,” in the village of High-Upon-Drugs.
    There will be poetry and prose, song and dance, murmurs and mayhem.
    You’ll laugh. You’ll cry. You’ll go home. Hopefully, not at intermission.
    Proof of vaccination will be required at the door, scrutiny to be conducted under the auspices of the company’s lawyers from the firm Dewey, Cheatham & Howe.
    p.s. We are presently seeking investors.

  36. Addendumb to the news release:
    Following each performance, accommodation will be made for a brief period of critical discussion. Cameras and recording equipment are strictly prohibited without approval in writing from the copyright holder.

  37. Nell, come lend an ear to this.

    “The interior was shadowy with a peculiar shade. The strange luminous semi-opacities of fine autumn afternoons and eves intensified into Rembrandt effects the few yellow sunbeams which came through holes and divisions in the canvas, and spirted like jets of gold-dust across the dusty blue atmosphere of haze pervading the tent, until they alighted on inner surfaces of cloth opposite, and shone like little lamps suspended there.”

  38. Thomas Hardy!! And ye read it so masterfully, Will. The lessons in elocution have paid handsomely in dividends, truly they have!!

  39. Oh, Will, herein lies enchantment, as sure as I was mistress to the King of France.
    Crowns and a skull. Thumbing-biting and sword-fighting. Witches and faeries and grave diggers. Crossed garters. Poison. The head of an ass.
    The groundlings, I dare say, will be amazed and much amused.

  40. It begins with music.
    Hautboys. The trill of the trumpet. A flourish of cornets.
    Only then is the first line spoken: “Who are you calling a lyre?”

  41. The music is interesting, and the special effects are great, but I’d like to see more dialogue.

  42. You move me, Will, with the manner by which you speak your lines. But, prithee, good sir,
    don’t be so … tentative … in their delivery.

  43. Good Will, dear Nell — hush! You are giving too much away! Seek solitude. Find seclusion. Prepare your play in secret.

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