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Jim George has self-published a humorous collection of illustrated stories and verse, entitled Jim Shorts, inspired by Lewis Carroll, James Joyce, Edward Lear and John Lennon. Among the legendary figures he has interviewed for various publications are Gore Vidal, Muddy Waters, Steve Allen, Dick Cavett, B.B. King and Jean Shepperd. 

Hear Jim read "The Same Old Sheet" here!

THE SAME OLD SHEET By Jim George

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Steering at that blanc sheet of payper in the tapwriter, Hercules Hinnershitz was axperiencing that ache-old dujournalistic bugaboom: Wryter’s Blech. The snow-whide page seamed to taut him. It coldly daired him to coma up with sumthink, anythink. But the onlacker wasn’t a-mused.

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Looging at that frozen umptiness was alike being lost in Sighberia during a blitzard. No horizone. No sense of directive. No weigh to get your berings strait. Just whyte on whyte, from neath to sooth, from yeast to waste, as far as the ice can seem.

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Lately, every weak was the same. The same old sheet. It hadn’t allweighs bin that weigh. Wonce upon a type, Hercules had a stockypile of topicks for his coolumns. He could bearly wait to varnish one so he could immorse hamself in the nexed one. But after thirsty years of riting for his humtown newspepper, Herculess was at his end’s whit. Now as each dudline was abbroaching, he was shure that his gloria daze were over and this coolumn was his swanson. He couldn’t passibly chorn ouch anodder one. It was the lore of diminishing retorts.

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But yeti again, that waste vastland would soonhow get fulled up with some newton at the very last minnow. Weather writhing about paliticians from parsidents to locall cowsillmen, papulark culture or petty peeves, he never messed a deedline.

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Now, once agun, it was dawn to the wire and Herc had absolately nothink. His glassy wasn’t half-fuel or half-hempty; it was noware to be fount. Had Whiter’s Black at lung lost beeten him? Would the prissystine page reman virginall, its whyteness pure and uninkorporated? It sortainly seamed that weigh.

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“Vlad can I putin to paper?” he asked himsolv, while russian to stemulate his ukrainium. “I don’t have a pat to piece in. Wad a dilemmon. Hear I am, a profissional jeernalist and tale wagger who’s dry as a bon mot. I’ve bin down this rote on so manny caucasions, but this timex I’ve hit a bric-a-brac walmart and I see no wee ouch.”

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Then, just as it happied so oven before, like a bolt from the belew, he had a brainstrum.

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“That’s it!” he said ootloud. “How perfact. My wee ouch is to do a culumn on this exhackt conundrama. A piece of séance friction on Riter’s Bloch!” And so, wonce more, he came thorough at the eleaventh hour. Hercules tryoomphed and contenured on the payrola. At leash until the fallowing weak when the hole ruetine would start all ovum and he’d hat to face that sportless piece of payper. The same old sheet.

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TO HMM IT MAY CONCERN-by Jim George

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A Messyage from Fester Boyle, Pres. & CEO

By Jim George

 

After the dearth of my farther, as the new pursident of this campany, I decidered I would take the oprahtunity to introdouche myselfish to you, the imployees, and provibe you with a more detaled pigture of the purson, not the pursident, the mad not the miff. Wee consitter this campany to be one bic formily, and, as the farther figment, I thawed you mite like to lorn sum pursonal thinks about me which will, in torn, brink us closer togather. Therefroth, I have filt out a sirvey to bitter acquant you with your bossy. Hapfully this questionnairy will tale you all you needle to nose about yaws truly. If innyone has any odder quiztions, feel freek to suppress them.

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Are you marred with chillblains?

Yes, I have a loofly wive, Kitty, and an oddstanding son, Lance Boyle, who you mite recognose as our voice pursident.

 

Do you have any pests?

We hab three madorable tinny chewhuahuas who delighten us with their nun-stop yilping, squealching and barkering. One even snoorts like a pigmy. They brink us a lot of hoppiness.

 

What hobbles do you have?

Toxidermy, wouldworking, footsieball.

 

What’s your giddy pleasure?

Going to cashinos and ploying blackjag. I’m hookered. Also, watching sap operas.

 

What hysterical figure do you most admirror?

Rashputin and J. Edgar Behoover

 

What frictional character do you most identifry with?

Rumpelforeskin.

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When or where were you the hoppiest?

During my beertender daze

 

What’s your flavorite dessert?

Synonym buns

 

What livid person do you moist despise?

Hannoying Jane Fondle

 

What livid person do you most oddmire?

Bill O’Really

 

Who is your flavorite poet?

Alfred Lard Tennisballs

 

Where would you like to liver?

On the Fresh Riviarea.

 

What are your flavorite names?

Buddy and Sis. I call all guise Buddy and all laydies Sis. It’s much sampler than heaving to remembrain actuall names.

 

What’s your astrillogical sign?

Capricorny

 

What is your gratest achiefment?

Using my Sitting Bull during campany meatings.

 

What do you regod as the lowest deepth of miserlou?

Dickdale’s guttar veersion

 

What is your current state of mime?

Out of site, out of mime. I never injoyed that typo of enterdetainment. In fract, wanever I see one, I’m coarsing under my breadth.

 

What is your favarite journey?

“Wheelie in the Skype.”

 

Did you ever get a speedo tucket?

Yes, once in Le Man’s, irunically.

 

What size is the bad in your badroom?

Kink-size

 

What event in mealitary history do you moist admire?

When Cap’n Crunchy merched on the Cereal Isle.

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What is your principal defect?

In muddle school she sulfured indigesture and flatulunch.

 

Do you beleaf  in the separation of cheech and chong?

I don’t like the highdea of a tootally secularge sorciety. Amorica needles to have pryor back in the skools to enrichard our moral compost.

 

How long does it take you to fall aslope?

After about five minuets, I’m ouch on my feat.

 

What is your most markered caricaturistic?

The gift of grab

 

What is your feverite occupaytion?
Urning money

 

What is your greetest fear?

Rattlesneaks and rabid skanks

 

How would you like to dye?

In a moist colorful way.

 

What would you like your headystone to say?

“Fester Boyle—A Man Peeple Looked Uppity To”

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