tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-138271372011-04-21T18:09:51.910-05:00"Hair today, Goon tomorrow." <i>-Popeye</i>Cranky Yankhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01674923749783405937noreply@blogger.comBlogger131100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13827137.post-51429730629717299542006-11-29T15:10:00.000-06:002006-11-29T15:49:14.246-06:00

That’s easy.Now, if I were in a Drog kind of mood, I’d have just stopped right there. Drog was our first and last Goon philosopher, and the blank space after “That’s easy” would be just his kind of answer. About the time Drog got Goon civilization started by discovering the rotating bar-b-que spit, he also solved most of the great philosophical questions that probably would have plagued Goons

Cranky Yankhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01674923749783405937noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13827137.post-1164751671092336182006-11-28T16:07:00.000-06:002006-11-29T08:56:51.380-06:00

It’s pretty simple, really. It’s the farting that wakes us up.The Goon diet is a good one. It’s been keeping us peppy and regular since Lulu lit the fire, as we say. It’s perfectly balanced…fruits, veggies, roots, nuts, fish, and bar-b-qued groat (mostly). All washed down with lots of fresh stream water. And like all good, balanced diets, it leads to intestinal gas. Long, melodious farts in the

Cranky Yankhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01674923749783405937noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13827137.post-1151947074167193542006-07-03T12:17:00.000-05:002006-07-03T22:31:02.883-05:00

Goons love to sing.We’ve been singing since Drog found the handle, as we say here on the Island, and it’s something we enjoy every night around the bar-b-que pit.Well, technically, not around the pit itself. I should explain how the pit is laid out, since it makes a difference in how we sing.I mentioned before that there are always about a hundred of us Goons on the Island at any one time, give

Cranky Yankhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01674923749783405937noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13827137.post-1151722492320940512006-06-30T21:54:00.000-05:002006-06-30T21:54:52.420-05:00

We don’t go to church on Goon Island.The main reason is that we don’t have a church on Goon Island. Never have had one. We know what they are, but having one has always seemed an odd notion to us Goons.For one thing, they take up a lot of space. And what are they for, really? They’re for providing a place where a bunch of like-minded folks can get together on a regular basis. Well, we have the

Cranky Yankhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01674923749783405937noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13827137.post-1151555969547115962006-06-28T23:39:00.000-05:002006-06-28T23:54:14.660-05:00

I’ve said before that all of us here on Goon Island are pretty much alike, so you’d think there wouldn’t be much discord in the ranks. And you’d be right. It’s hard to argue with somebody who generally looks, feels, acts and thinks the same way you do.In fact, given the circumstances here on the Island, it’s hard just to come up with situations about which two Goons could even disagree. Let’s eat

Cranky Yankhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01674923749783405937noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13827137.post-1149288234896860432006-06-02T17:43:00.000-05:002006-06-02T17:43:54.973-05:00

We don’t eat every human that comes to Goon Island.In fact, we don’t eat most of them. Most we just send back. And a couple we actually like having around for short periods of time.One of them is an anthropologist. I know I previously lumped anthropologists in with salesmen, European backpackers, poll takers, Jehovah’s Witnesses, and a few other types that just automatically get invited to join

Cranky Yankhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01674923749783405937noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13827137.post-1149114150197942422006-05-31T17:22:00.000-05:002006-05-31T17:24:15.096-05:00

Here’s how Goons are born.Since all of us have sex twice a day on a fairly regular basis, you’d think Goon Island would be wall-to-wall Goons. However, there have always been about a hundred Goons on the Island as long as anyone can remember. In don’t know how this works exactly, but Goons don’t get pregnant unless we’re short handed for some reason.Like the time we had to eat some of the kids.

Cranky Yankhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01674923749783405937noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13827137.post-1149043254609083212006-05-30T21:40:00.000-05:002006-05-30T21:40:54.760-05:00

There have been some questions recently about Goon life. Folks seem to be interested in how we do the day to day stuff here on the Island. I guess the best way to handle that is to describe a typical day for a Goon. We all look and act pretty much the same, so describing one Goon’s day describes them all. Which is how we like it.A Goon usually rolls out of the sack about daybreak. We don’t

Cranky Yankhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01674923749783405937noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13827137.post-1148957931120428502006-05-29T21:58:00.000-05:002006-05-29T21:58:51.190-05:00

We don’t have television on Goon Island.Well, I take that back. We have a television on Goon Island. It’s a 30-year-old Magnavox console that washed up from a container load that fell off a cargo ship during a big storm back in 1,738,480. (I think our calendar is a little different from most – we use the same years everyone else does, but we start counting from the year Goons first learned to

Cranky Yankhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01674923749783405937noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13827137.post-1146973929974045412006-05-06T22:52:00.000-05:002006-05-06T22:57:34.300-05:00

Here on Goon Island, we eat our dead.I think of this because we ate Arnie the Goon the other day. And it occurs to me that some folks don’t treat their dead this way.We don’t eat our dead because it tastes good…it doesn’t. Well, I take that back. It doesn’t unless you use the right bar-b-que rub. There is an inherent gaminess to Goon that just cries out for a little extra lemon pepper and ginger

Cranky Yankhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01674923749783405937noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13827137.post-1146671540395991872006-05-03T10:52:00.000-05:002006-05-03T10:52:20.476-05:00

We tried capitalism once on Goon Island. We didn’t like it much.It was actually Alice the Goon that started things off. She got a little famous as Popeye’s babysitter and tried to parley that into a growth business. Some of us told her back then that they didn’t call the kid “Sweet Pea” for nothing. She should have eaten him on the spot…maybe with a little spinach sautéed in Olive Oil. But she

Cranky Yankhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01674923749783405937noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13827137.post-1146343274525470652006-04-29T15:41:00.000-05:002006-05-02T21:52:21.136-05:00

Here on Goon Island, we like to get high every now and then.Most of us work pretty hard, and once or twice a week we stop by the Goon Island Candy Store and score a cup or two of crapkee to stick up our butts after dinner.Goon Island is a little isolated (which is just the way we like it) so crapkee may not be familiar to a lot of folks, but it’s really just the dried dung of a local bug. It

Cranky Yankhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01674923749783405937noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13827137.post-1145851894390708992006-04-23T23:11:00.000-05:002006-04-23T23:20:55.510-05:00

Here on Goon Island, we cut our own hair.We all have hair in the same places, and we all trim it the same way, but it’s something we take care of personally. Not only because we sport no other covering between us and the All-In-All, but because it doesn’t make much sense to pay someone else to do it when the entire population of Goon Island can have a nice trim in the comfort of their own homes

Cranky Yankhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01674923749783405937noreply@blogger.com2