This was Steve's first book. It contained a number of short absurd pieces that are not easily classified.

The very first version was a handmade limited edition of 7  published by Victoria Dailey, otherwise known as the Press of the Pegacycle Lady. This first edition is very odd looking since the cover is just pale paper over pressboard and only contains 48 pages. It does not contain all of the bits in the trade version of the book which came out in 1979. Steve personally numbered each book in ink in the back.

These same bits were also published in Playboy.

You can still find copies of the trade versions for sale on ebay.com or in used bookstores.
 

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"Hup hup hup hup hup hup hup hup hup hup hup."

However, the story of the vengeful curtain rod is found throughout other mythologies. In the Egyptian Book of the Comedians, for example, the subject is conspicously avoided. It is mentioned profusely, however in the Dead See Scrolls (Stinky MacFarland translation). Even Plato, in his little-known dialogue, "Plenty of Soap," deviated from his topic long enough to discuss "the metaphor of the vengeful curtain rod." And in modern times, T. S. Eliot in his poem, "Good Morning, America, I Love You," cites Stinky's translation of the Dead Sea Scrolls in a footnote.
 

My first experience with the renegade cows began one day as I was admiring a particularly attractive cow at Johnson's Weed Farm. As I stood there watching her sultry body moving lithely through the rushes, I noticed several other cows staring at me through the weeds, giving me that look that only a cow can give.

Later that night, I was at home thinking over the day's events. The Rubber Duck Throwing Contest, the parade that followed: bands and floats and baton-tossing girls all marching down the middle of the Missouri River. I should have been analyzing the glare of those cows I'd seen earlier that day.

The doorbell rang. I opened the door, glad to have a visitor, but found myself face to face with three renegade cows. I could not see their eyes behind the dark glasses.

They ambled in and I did not try to stop them.

That night they just stood around my bed and watched me sleep, much the same way my potatoes do, and I guess you might say I learned my lesson: Don't fool with renegade cows.

Alfredo Francesi was a man of few words, and fewer ideas. His works, consequently, are a sequence of rambling sentences that only occasionally find ideas to which to attach themselves. His writing was found by Legs Mahoney to be "deplorable and assinine." Following are the complete works and letters.

Dialogue of four people not talking to each other:

Francesi's letters to his wife:

Society In Aspen

Aspen's Newest Craze: Lazy Man's Horseshoes

Throwing horseshoes is a game as old as time itself. There is evidence that early amoebas were playing horseshoes nearly four billion years ago.1 Modern horseshoes began in Turkey about two million years before Christ (Christ himself played the game with uncanny accuracy), and no doubt was used to settle disputes among tribesmen about who could throw horsehoes the best. The game evolved somewhat oddly: the post first being discovered, then the horseshoe, and finally, the horse.

Today, modern man has revived this ancient pastime, and especially here in Aspen, posts can be seen springing up everywhere. But horseshoes has been cursed with a time-consuming chore: removing the shoes from the horse. The newest innovation in the game, consequently, has been to leave the shoes where they are, and toss the entire animal. This gives the game a new sophistication, introducing breeds and show animals to the playing field. Also, greater skills are required and different throwing styles have emerged: the American, the English, and the Thud. The first two are essentially the same with the exception that in the American, if a tossed horse misses the post, he is kicked in the genitals. The third, the Thud, is a three-quarters-higher toss than the American or English, and derives its name form the sound the animal makes on arrival. However, it's the horse's movement through the air that distinguishes most modern horseshoe players. Some toss the horse so it spins vertically, end over end; others try to keep the airborne horse motionless. In spite of variances, the object is the same: to rest the horse's foot directly on top of the post.

With the influx of visitors into the Aspen area for horseshoe season, a primer for locals on modern horseshoe technique is necessary. With your left hand, grasp the horse by the nape of the neck, the right hand going under the buttocks. Lift firmly, keeping your eyes on the post before you. Decide whether you want to throw the poor beast laterally or vertically; then build your desire. Desire is the key to winning modern horseshoes. Think of the glory. Think of the firm bulging muscles on the animal you are holding. The statuesque legs, that great build. Then, heave! With proper concentration, and a little practice, the horse will hurtle gracefully toward the goal with astounding precision. Feel the satisfaction, as although this may not be the first case of a rider throwing a horse, it may be one of the most premeditated.

The development of Lazy Man's Horseshoes in Aspen is a hopeful step toward a new sports consciousness in Colorado. With enough support from the community, it is the kind of thing that can put Colorado on the map. So let's get behind the horse, give it a little push, and not be afraid to put both feet into whatever comes out. 1. Journal of Scientific Verbage. "Amoebas Without Morals" P. 271: August, 1972.

Kings and Queens had heard of the legend of the dancing buffalo of South Dakota. This story had traveled by word of mouth throughout the world, and today people who were interested in that sort of thing were arriving by the hundreds. Among them could be counted authors, critics, painters, rich industrialists and the usual supply of uninformed gawkers who probably couldn't appreciate something such as this.

The event was taking place on a grass covered farmland nestled in a rolling valley in South Dakota. In the center of the valley floor was a hand-cranked Victrola. The spectators ringed the hills that surrounded the field. Then a farmer walked disinterestedly to the Victrola, as tough he were about to do something he'd done a thousand times before. He cranked up the music box, almost inaudible at first, and everyone turned in anticipation toward the buffalo.

At first the herd paid little attention to this lively music that was slowly building through the valley. But then a buffalo raised his head toward the crowd, and then toward the music's source. The huge buffalo stared at the Victrola momentarily, then looked at a few of his companions. They eyed each other as though communicating some strange curious thought. One buffalo then walked casually, but deliberately, toward the music. The others hesitated, then followed, at first struggling but then picking up the pace of their leader. As the music built, the buffalo appeared to be listening intently and as the song began to crescendo with the banjos and trombones becoming irresistibly exciting, one buffalo began to sway, at first almost imperceptibly. But then the others joined in; their movements became more and more obvious. Suddenly one buffalo, as though in some sort of mystic celebration, rose up on his hind legs, moving them in a manner reminiscent of an old soft-shoe dancer, his front legs pointing daintily in various directions. Then the other buffalo began rising up, dancing around like vaudevillians, in an incredible climax of sound and motion.

The music ended. The buffalo ceased their delirious dance, some glancing at the music box as they returned to their grazing in a nearby corner of the field.
 

Don't be a slyboots
Cunning, shrewd, a rogue
Don't be a shyboots,
Nobody likes a slyboots.
Everyone wants to like you
so why be a slowpoke?
Nobody likes slowpokes
Slowpokes lose favor.
Don't you give a reason
to be known as a
ragamuffin
People look down on
ragamuffins
and they'll look down on you
if they can call you one
How would you like to be known as
one who pussyfoots?
Don't be a pussyfooter and stay away
from those who do.
 

No man's land is where I find
my hand sometimes demand for
me to stop! Oh oh she cried
Oh ooh ah ah don't violate me so!
Don't violate me so I cannot tell the
preacher who connected Edgar's
wallet that was found inside the
bedroom doorway with the absence
of his wallets in his pants.
In his pants that love delivered
an emission on a system-conscious social debutante!
 

Semblances of spring, I told her, come like daisies suddenly tumbling winter's sky.

Melancholy selves tell several relations of senseless
involvement in things of myself and things of the past,
and things much less likely than a summer's rain,
or a gaslamp.
 

The problem with the diets of today is that most women who do achieve that magic weight, seventy-six pounds, are still fat. Dr. Fitzkee's Lucky Astrology Diet is a sure-fire method of reducing with the added luxury that you never feel hungry.

First Month: One egg

If after the third month you haven't gotten to your dream weight, try lopping off parts of your body until those sales tip just right for you.
 

It seemed like just another morning. I woke and thought, "What to do, what to do." Then, and I don't know why this struck me, but I thought, "Perhaps I'll get out of bed." I know it seems crazy now, but then I was just in that particular mood where anything seemed reasonable.

I got up quickly, and only later did I stop to consider what I had done. I was proud. Perhaps now I had paved the way for other men, but the most satisfying thought was that perhaps it might be easier for me... next time.
 

I, for one, am going to know what to say when the ducks show up. I've made a list of phrases, and although I don't know which one to use yet, they are all good enough in case they showed up tomorrow. Many people won't know what to say when the ducks show up, but I will. Maybe I'll say, "Oh wonderful ducks!" I practice these sayings every day, and even though the ducks haven't come yet, when they do, I'll know what to say.
 

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