Minotaur’s Dating Profile

Justice Minotaur became a paying customer of LoveSoHotItDisfigures.byz, an international dating website, a couple of weeks ago. Complaining that the site “has not yet delivered any quality goods,” Minotaur has asked Mr. Cornwall to post his dating profile here, in hopes of “making the pool both deeper, wider, and purer in one fell swoop.” The profile, as reproduced from the aforementioned website, follows:

About Me

Korbin Minotaur is a justice of the peace serving in Cattywampus, New Salem, an independent nation-state located within the boundaries of the Manti-LaSal National Forest in the State of Utah, United States of America. Justice Minotaur, the owner of real property in fee simple and the sire of one or more natural offspring, is the principal financier of a for-profit burro-shaving operation. He has received tributary produce from extraterrestrials on the pretense that he was a lawful agent of the president of the United States. His passions include tire-wetting chemicals and rotary jails. With the encouragement of his Minneapolis-based publisher, Justice Minotaur is preparing a pamphlet-length biography of the palmer Wilfred of Ivanhoe written in Sumerian. Earlier publication credits include Chimps I Have Sketched (Grande Comore: Subsaharan Publishers, 2001) and the experimental The Full Unwigging of Dolly Parton (Cattywampus: By the author, 2008), a collection of Petrarchan sonnets engraved in petrified biscuits.

About You

-neotenous arms

-knows rules to Six Men’s Morris

-checked for prediabetes (OK if positive, but must disclose on first date)

-doesn’t mind it if Justice Minotaur’s personal scribe is always around

-coarse hair, gray eyes, no marks or brands


Proposed New Vehicle Names

Proposed new vehicle names and pitch slogans, by Justice Korbin Minotaur*

-The Dodge Space Shuttle Challenger. Hard to explain, but imagine two mopeds riding side by side down the road, with the two riders holding either end of a broomstick.

-Do you need to haul stuff but don’t want to have the crappy mileage of a truck? The new Nissan Potoroo is for you. It’s a 3-row station wagon that comes with empty 5-gallon buckets that easily attach to (or detach from) the seats with a non-name-brand hook and loop fastener system. Buckets are great for carrying liquids, solids, or Bose-Einstein condensate. Buy before June 31st and we will give you a ton of unscreened pea gravel completely for free.

-The Prinhault Princeps. We don’t follow trends. They come so naturally to us that you can say we excrete them. All over the road.

-The Ford Limited Edition Hindenburg. The first car powered by Venusian storms.

-Capella Girlfriend Wagon. Sounds like maybe it’s targeted at a younger female audience, but it’s actually designed for guys who are dating more than one woman at the same time. Not sure where we take the concept after that.

-Munchenstein, by Munchenstein. That woodsy, is-he-or-isn’t-he scent that precedes your reputation that precedes you.**

-The Suzuki Lusitania. Five doors. Four wheels. Seats three. You do the math. Now available with a liquid-cooled vacuum flask for transporting organs.

*Written on the inside back cover of The History of the American Vice Presidency, 30 October 1912 through 4 March 1913 (Des Moines, IA: Potemkin, 1989).

**It appears this is promotional copy for a fragrance rather than a vehicle.

Journal Entry: Recursive Dolls

Journal entry, 26 Prairial 226: Justice Minotaur today made an enormous set of recursive dolls with Unbeknownst Darva Conger, a sometime romantic interest of his, from a maple tree whose life had been extinguished by a runaway Mazda Titan Dump. Afterward Minotaur helped her file paperwork for Missing Finger Produce Company LLC.

[This post brought to you by KSL News Radio of Salt Lake City, Utah, United States of America. KSL News Radio: For people who don’t have the Internet.]

Journal Entry: Visit to Northern Wood

Journal entry, 18 Prairial 228: Justice Minotaur hosted visitors from a foreign delegation today, consisting of representatives from the United States, Timor-Leste, Nauru, Bouvet Island, and the Helvetica Republic. Two gentlemen were there who also professed to be from Verona, though this could not be immediately confirmed and they were confined by authorities in a service station restroom stall pending further investigation.

After showing the delegation how to work the photomechanical copier in chambers, Minotaur took them for a picnic in Northern Wood. Mr. Cornwall was asked to come along to help serve the charcuterie and water the mounts (llamas).

After lunch, the representative from Nauru, one Phoneme Howitzer, shared a myth from his country’s traditions about a magician whose wand had to be rubberized for his own safety. Ambassador Lady Clenched Hold Joy of Timor-Leste then drew a pint of fresh milk from one of the beasts into a reliquary, quaffed it, and belched the Latin alphabet, a feat that drew rich applause. This seemed to be the immediate cause of one of the other llamas going into labor. When the cria came out, the minister from the United States issued it a nonbinary birth certificate, which was signed by everyone else present. The afternoon ended with the men trying to impress Lady Joy by pushing over a small birch tree until it snapped.

[remainder of page intentionally left blank for the writing of recipes]




Recollections of Second-Grade Classmates

Today while decimating the goat herd to encourage better discipline, Justice Minotaur shared some “fragrant remembrances” of persons who had been his classmates in the second grade. Mr. Cornwall here reproduces those utterances from memory as best he can:

Grandpa Brownhands. I swear that was his name. One of the more unfortunate names I have heard, and I have heard a lot of them. I think his parents must have lost a bet.

Costco Muffins Lex Mundi. It is possible I have not remembered the name correctly, as I attended second grade before there was such a place as Costco. In any event, she later changed her name to Amber Honeymeade and built a diorama of Gondwana out of cheese curd.

California Jones. Jones argued with his own lunchbox and called his toes “foot fingers.”

Balaam’s Ass Dukeminier. His parents were devoutly religious. I do not recall his handedness.

Mother Adam Hangman. I honestly cannot remember if this was a boy or a girl. I remember he/she claimed his/her father owned a shipyard, even though New Salem has been landlocked since probably the Pleistocene epoch.

Amber Cinnamon Darkmeade. I sniffed a lot of commercial-strength glue in my twenties so cannot rely much on my memory of events from before that time. This may have been the same person I have identified as Costco Muffins Lex Mundi.

Champollion Items. This was our teacher. He would wear two baseball caps at the same time–one with the bill pointed forward and the other pointed backward–and go around calling himself Sherlock Holmes. He said he had been married more than eight times but could not remember how many for sure. One time at lunch he borrowed a banana peel from a student and wrote out the names of a number of his former wives on the peel.

[click here for a list of ideas for how to stave off an early demise–number 3 will totally shock you!]



Idea for a Board Game

Idea for a board game, by Justice Korbin Minotaur:

There is some kind of a game board. This is not literally made of board wood. More likely it is made of paper such as cardboard, and maybe it involves plastic materials or other modern materials of some kind. It probably folds up for storage and travel.

There are several players who can play at one time–probably more than two but fewer than a thousand.

There may be some means of moving around the board. Maybe each player is symbolically represented in some way with some kind of figurine.

There may be some pretend currency with a name that harmonizes with the name of the game, such as “Cow Dollars” (in the case of a farming game) or “Liquid Dinero” (in the case of a game having to do with acquiring sufficient ink supplies for a five-color printing press in a post-gender and post-truth world).

There may be cards that are part of the game. These would probably be smaller than the size of a giraffe. They would probably have instructions or information of some kind on them–maybe announcing a penalty or reward of some kind to a player or directing some kind of action.

There may be dice or some kind of a spinner, and possibly a timer to expedite the play.

There would probably be rules about how often players can use the bathroom (to expedite play and save the host costs of toilet paper).

The game would probably involve a combination of luck and skill.

There would be some kind of object of the game and some rules for determining who was the winner of the game.

Most likely the game would not involve the open and direct worship of Satan.

While everyone else is playing I, Justice Korbin Minotaur, would be eating a bucket of chicken and drinking pancake batter through a funnel from an auto parts store.

Journal Entry: On Dogs

Journal entry, 3 Prairial 226: Justice Minotaur was accosted by two dogs today while he was out in the plaza pinning up his judicial robes to dry after an accident with drinkable yogurt. He took the occasion to opine that the reason dogs like to bury bones is because “their ancestors were involved in piracy on the open seas.” One of the canines then micturated on the justice’s brogans.