Posted February 14, 2002
Imagine huge solid porcelain Jell-O cubes pummelling down a sheet metal ski slope while the next Ice Age melts into the sunset.
Imagine the sound you would make if rabbit fur medicine balls were tickling your throat as you tried to wash them down with Pepto Bismol.
Imagine the sound of an out-of-synch, out-of-tune choir of fifty nine-year-olds whose Nutty Professor-type science teacher has just slipped on a huge banana peel in the hallway while dancing out of the cafeteria with the girls' guidance counsellor.
Imagine the sound of a bunch of crossbred hyena-witches who have ridden their brooms to heaven by mistake and find that they like it.
Imagine the sound of Gordon Campbell after he has decided to run for dictator of Domingo Diablo and live there with his secretary, when he sees the first recall petition with his wife's signature on the top.