Shalampax Speaks

Hey peeps, I’ve got some earth-shattering gossip for you. Manexposinghimself, Shalampax’s Prime Minister, isn’t saying much about it publicly, but his friends tell me that he has come up with a foolproof plan for bringing about lasting world peace. And I’m not talking about only eliminating wars. Manexposinghimself’s plan would also end localized fighting among groups, one-on-one violence, and just bitchy, vociferous arguments as well.

If carried through to fruition, this infallible peace plan would absolutely guarantee that Manexposinghimself will be awarded next year’s Nobel Peace Prize. There wouldn’t even be a contest.

What is this plan that he has, so far, refused to discuss publicly? Details are starting to leak out.

A source I cannot name was at a soiree at Manexposinghimself’s home and overheard Manexpsoinghimself say, “Indolence is the answer. Lazy people don’t formulate battle plans. Lazy people don’t declare wars. Lazy people don’t join armies. Lazy people don’t murder. Lazy people don’t rape. Lazy people don’t fight. Lazy people don’t mug other people. And lazy people don’t commit burglaries.

“No. Lazy people watch television, but only if they can switch channels with a remote. Otherwise, they nap. In short, an idle world is a peaceful world. All I am saying is give sloth a chance.”

According to my source, Manexposinghimself’s roughly sketched out plan calls for him to begin a massive campaign to promote extreme indolence to all of the people of the world.

Of course, because of the arrest warrants sworn out against him in pretty well every other country, Manexposinghimself would have to mount his campaign from Shalampax. However, he figures that the Internet, coupled with television and radio broadcasts produced here, would be adequate to get the job done.

Think about it. No more war. In fact no more violence of any type. The Nobel Peace Prize would be Manexposinghimself’s for the asking.

Ironically, Manexposinghimself’s altruism might, in the end, cost him the Peace Prize. I’m told that, after he looked at his plan more closely, he realized that there was a serious flaw in it. His global slothfulness campaign would require considerable work on his part. Thus, he would be setting a bad example for the world.

The word I’m getting is that, rather than setting a bad example, he is seriously thinking of forgoing the Nobel Peace Prize. Instead, his current thinking is that he will stay home and watch television, with his remote control firmly in hand. In doing so, he’ll be a role model for the rest of the world. However, that’s not something that the Nobel committee is likely to notice. And that’s a shame.

Gossip Gossip, idle, idleness, indolence, laziness, lazy, Nobel Peace Prize, peace, Peace Prize, sloth, world peace

I’m sure that all of my peeps reading this are well aware that Tuboflard, the Chief Medical Officer at the Shalampax Medical Clinic, is, to say the least, considerably less than enamored with her role as a mother of triplets. Thus, it will come as no surprise that Scurryingcockroach, a recent visitor to Tuboflards’ apartment, was shocked when she saw only two of the triplets playing in their baby litter box. The third infant was nowhere to be seen.

Scurryingcockroach feared the worst. (Or the best, depending on your point of view. Most Shalampaxians consider children to be a terrible bother.) Being still of child-bearing age, a panic set over Scurryingcockroach when she realized that, if Tuboflard had killed one of her infants, Scurryingcockroach herself might suffer the misfortune of being chosen to fill Shalampax’s population gap.

Without proof, Scurryingcockroach didn’t want to confront Tuboflard with serious allegations of evil behavior. However, Scurryingcockroach was eager to make those accusations, particularly in public, because her life is rather empty and she takes her entertainment wherever she can find it.

Excusing herself to go to the bathroom, Scurryingcockroach began a thorough search of Tuboflard’s apartment. If discovered during her hunt for the missing baby, Scurryingcockroach planned to say that she got lost on the way to the bathroom.

In retrospect, Scurryingcockroach needn’t have prepared an alibi. After getting up in the morning, Tuboflard usually immediately settles into a chair next to the well-stocked refrigerator that she installed in her living room. Tuboflard almost never leaves her perch until late in the evening, when she gets up to change her adult diaper and go to bed.

Consequently, there was little chance that Tuboflard would have gotten up from her chair. All she inferred from Scurryingcockroach’s lengthy absence was that Scurryingcockroach must have been suffering from diarrhea. Being Chief Medical Officer, Tuboflard knew that this was a common ailment in Shalampax due to the condition of the food in Shalampax’s grocery store and restaurants.

Not finding the third baby despite a thorough investigation, and knowing that no one else in Shalampax would consent to take care of any of the little brats, Scurryingcockroach confronted Tuboflard with allegations of wrongdoing. Tuboflard became alarmed because she knew that, if the baby was not found, Tuboflard might be charged with infanticide.

In Shalampax, infanticide is only a misdemeanor, but it is still a crime, so Tuboflard made the incredible effort of shifting her body so she could turn enough to scan the entire living room from her perch.

Tuboflard did not immediately spot her third child, but her motion was enough to solve the mystery. Scurryingcockroach saw that the missing child was not missing at all. Instead, she had been playing happily, but unnoticed underneath one of Tuboflard’s rolls of fat. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on your point of view), there was enough of an air pocket under there that the baby had no trouble breathing.

With great regret at having reason to do so, Scurryingcockroach apologized to Tuboflard for accusing her of wrongdoing. Scurryingcockroached then shuffled morosely off to her own apartment.

Gossip infanticide, missing baby, missing child, missing infant

Are you sitting down, peeps? There’s news out of the Shalampax arts community, such as it is, that will knock your socks off. Come to think of it, maybe you should stand up because it’s much harder to knock your socks off when all of your weight is on your feet.

Anyway, my sources tell me that Rottencoconut, Shalampax’s only currently “working” author (apart, of course, from us here at Shalampax Speaks), has submitted for publication a novel of more than 1,400 pages. I’m told that, in this case, he’s not up to his old tricks of making the book look fatter by printing at most one word per page and including a lot of blank pages. Rumor has it that every one of those more than 1,400 pages is jam-packed with—wait for it—well-written words.

This is an amazing accomplishment because, to-date, no Shalampaxian has ever published a literary work of more than 1,400 words, let alone pages.

Rottencoconut has decided to use a foreign publisher. There are two reasons for this. One, foreign publishers have much better distribution channels than Shalampaxian publishers. And, two, there are no Shalampaxian publishers.

I was able to weasel out the name of the publisher. Its president agreed to speak to me on the condition of anonymity. According to her, it seems that publication is very tentative at this point.

The publisher, the first one that Rottencoconut sent his manuscript to, was initially very excited about publishing the book, which Rottencoconut is calling Patronymic Life, Love and Conflict. However, she cooled to the idea somewhat after receiving comments from reviewers who read the manuscript.

The reviewers all questioned the originality of Rottencoconut’s novel. One reviewer went so far as to run an electronic copy of Patronymic Life, Love and Conflict through a computer program. The program showed that Rottencoconut’s book differed in only three words from a popular English translation of Leo Tolstoy’s War and Peace. All three of those words were misspelled.

“If there really is so much similarity—and I question that there is,” retorted Rottencoconut when challenged by the publisher, “it’s a total coincidence. There are only so many words in the English language so that sort of thing must happen all of the time entirely by chance. Besides, they were three crucial words that are essential to the plot and character development.”

My sources say that if the first publisher decides to reject the book, Rottencoconut will not give up. If necessary, he will peddle his manuscript to other publishers, preferably ones who don’t employ people who have read any Russian novels.

I’ll keep you posted if I hear more about his efforts to get his book published.

Gossip book, novel

Totally uncharacteristic for a Shalampaxian, Steinonbar recently decided that she wanted to further her education and pursue one of the advanced sciences. To this end, she signed up for a course on brain anatomy at an online university.

Steinonbar felt smug about her choice of neuroanatomy as her field of study. She recognized that scientific experimentation and analysis is often exceptionally difficult and time-consuming. However, her plan was, if she ever got past the basic courses, she would go on to do original research on the Shalampaxian brain. She felt that, with this choice of specialization, the subjects of her research would not be very complex.

The first module of the course, which the university predicted would take students an hour to complete, was dedicated exclusively to learning how to spell amygdala. Steinonbar breezed through the material in just 90 minutes, although she still has a tendency to forget the “g” or mistakenly double the “l” in amygdala.

Before calling it a day, Steinonbar snuck a peek at the table of contents for the next course module. It promised to teach her what the amygdala is and does.

Seeing that the curriculum was going to advance past spelling, she became extremely fearful that the material would be far too difficult for her. This triggered a “fight or flight” response in Steinonbar, which in her case meant flight.

It is thus doubtful that Steinonbar will ever learn what the amygdala is or does, let alone anything else about brains, Shalampaxian or otherwise.

Gossip amygdala, brain, brain anatomy, brain science, neuroanatomy

Considering that she recently gave birth to triplets, you won’t be surprised to learn that Tuboflard is lactating. Boy, is she lactating!

The volume of milk that this gal is producing would make any major dairy herder happy. We don’t have any dairy herders in Shalampax, which is not surprising as there aren’t any animals other than us Shalampaxians here, but if we did, they would be eyeing Tuboflard with exceedingly lewd and materialistic looks.

Tuboflard’s milk production is, for some reason, proportional to the size of her breasts. It’s not that her breasts are particularly large in relation to the rest of her body, but if you’re a regular reader you’ll know that the rest of her body knows no bounds. Or if it knows any bounds, it’s not adhering to them. Which is to say that, relative to other women, Tuboflard’s breasts are massive.

If Tuboflard ever attempted to go swimming, her breasts would be a hazard to ship navigation. Unconfirmed rumors suggest that, in the past, Tuboflard has allowed toddlers to user her breasts for early-childhood ski jump training. But that might be just an urban legend, but her triplets might be in for some fun.

Suffice it to say that Tuboflard is producing more breast milk than her triplets need.

Being a true Shalampaxian and, therefore, not one to pass up a money-making opportunity, Tuboflard has entered into a contract with Rottentomato, proprietor of Shalampax’s Most Expensive Restaurant. Rottentomato has agreed to buy all of Tuboflard’s excess breast milk.

There is already a list of 22 men and five women who have volunteered to help Tuboflard manually pump her milk to fulfill the contract. Contact Tuboflard directly if you’d like to add your name to the list.

Rottentomato has some advice for his patrons: “Try the ice cream for dessert. It’s delicious and all-natural.”

Gossip breast, lactate, lactating, milk

There was a spot of amazement melded with bewilderment in the Shalampax pub today.

At about three in the afternoon, as she ordered another gin and tonic, Exposedcleavage announced in a loud, clear voice that was surprisingly sober for a Shalampaxian, “I am writing a book.”

Exposedcleavage liked to dress to fit her name and today was no exception. You could describe her as a voluptuous, beautiful, buxom blond if you didn’t mind getting your face slapped hard as payback for your excessively impudent sarcasm.

In truth, all kidding aside, Exposedcleavage is, as they say, quite easy on the eye. That is to say, she is easy on a Shalampaxian male’s eye. Then again, Shalampaxian male eyes aren’t terribly discerning. “Easy on the eye” in Shalampaxian terms roughly translates into “induces only intermittent vomiting” in the lexicon of most males from outside of Shalampax.

But physical beauty is superficial and transitory. So, never mind.

What amazed and bewildered the other patrons of the pub when Exposedcleavage declared that she was “writing a book” was that no one realized that she was the least bit literate, which would make her an average Shalampaxian.

The mystery was solved when Exposedcleavage’s drinking buddy looked over at the coaster that Exposedcleavage had pulled out from under her glass. With a pencil firmly in hand as she did not have the confidence to use a pen and ink, Exposedcleavage had managed to write “a boo” on the coaster. In the next instant, she scratched a single “k” to fulfill her aspiration.

Many drinks were swilled in celebration of her unexpected feat.

Gossip books, literacy, writing