By Cory Doctorow at 10:24 pm Mon, Dec 8, 2008
Nursery Rhyme Cupcakes
Foetusnail @ 10 – Thank you :)
I hadn’t realised that my version was so mutated and dismembered…
Freakily enough, i first posted this 4 hours ago, it made it onto my profile page, but not to here…
O The Mysteries of The Boingboing…
Woah! Who did that? Was that you, Antinous? Are you trying to make me look like an idiot?
Don’t make me make a coals to Newcastle joke. But, no, I didn’t do anything.
I’d really like to have an answer to your question since they still make me hungry. I’d eat them for sure, albeit a bit slower than usual, in a limb by limb fashion. I can’t explain why. I might think twice of it if the figurines are anatomically correct but my guts usually win all their battles.
there’s a ghost here?!
we do not speak of the Ghost!
(ti detrats uoy)
i’m sooo glad you’re not ~my~ yoga teacher Antinous… i can only imagine the headfucks you impart in meditation…
Building a zombie army requires creative thinking.
I love the subtle nod to silicone baking cups in this post.
really for the ice and snow? Looks like Calis gonna freeze!
This is the second time today I’ve been reminded of cupcakes. On my way to work this morning I saw a car emblazoned with a logo and URL for http://www.kickasscupcakes.com
It must be a sign… to eat more cupcakes…
Oh really! So ~where’s~ Antinous?
Awesome! But how could you bring yourself to eat one of those?
Looks like Jack…
…tried to fetch more than a pail of water.
I’m not sure, but it involves palm trees.
It’s arctic here. We didn’t even hit 70 today.
OK, what’s ALWAYS bugged me: what the hell is a well doing on TOP of a hill?
He has palm trees? well i hope it freezes his nuts off
Mr T – you finally cracked it! I hope you have plenty of vinegar and brown paper to hand…
“50 year Arctic blast” coming?
It supposed to be 76 for the next few days, but drop down to the high 50s on the weekend. So far, we’re having a very warm cold season.
My favourite was always –
“There was an old woman, went up in a basket,
Ninety-nine Times as high as the moon,
Where she was going, I couldn’t but ask it,
for in her hand, she carried a broom…”
“Old woman, old woman, old woman” quoth I, “where are you going so high, so high ?”
“to sweep the cobwebs off the sky,
and I shall be back again, by and by.”
Does this remind anyone else of the “miniature killer” on CSI?
let zem eet caek!
but also, my deeply rural lancashire grandad’s…
There was a little man,
and he had a little gun,
and it’s bullets were made of lead, lead, lead.
He took a little look,
and he saw a little duck,
and he shot it right through the head, head, head
– a great rhyme for knee-bouncing the babies…
I thought it was a Katamari Damacy cupcake at first.
you would concur runcibility is second from left. yas?
Still have my baby copy of “The Real Mother Goose” originally copyrighted in 1916. No one believes me until I show it to them, but I grew up with this Baa, Baa, Black Sheep. I love this stuff.
Baa, baa, black sheep,
Have you any wool?
Yes, marry, have I,
Three bags full;
One for my master,
One for my dame,
But none for the little boy
Who cries in the lane.
Sammich, if you don’t have it, here’s the rest of the story:
A Little Man
There was a little man, and he had a little gun,
and his bullets were made of lead, lead, lead;
He went to the brook, and saw a little duck,
and shot it right through the head, head, head
He carried it home to his old wife Joan,
And he bade her a fire to make, make, make.
To roast the little duck he had shot in the brook,
And he’d go and fetch the drake, drake, drake.
The drake was a-swimming with his curly tail;
The little old man made it his mark, mark, mark.
He let off his gun, but he fired to soon,
And the drake flew away with a quack, quack, quack.
i s’pose, or at far left…
we need a pickle-off to settle this.
poor drool-covered keyboard
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