Most Gnomish Sentence At This Moment In Time

Okay, brace yourselves: I'm about to attempt to write the most Gnomish sentence in human history. It's an act of rebellion, if you will, against the Gnomish agenda.

I don't know what kind of fuddy-duddy bugaboo you think I am, spouting gobbledygook and claptrap as I dillydally about doohickies and gewgaws and flibbertigibbets and doodads, but before you think there's any hanky-panky here giving you the heebie-jeebies, I'd have you know that there's no rinky-dink hocus pocus or flim-flam here. Rather than being some hoity-toity hugger-mugger out to razzle-dazzle you with some humdrum, higgledy-piggledy, topsy-turvy whatchamacallit, I'd also have you know that everything's hunky-dory as I lollygag about with my itsy-bitsy hurdy-gurdy, a knickknack thingamajig I hornswoggled from some roly-poly riffraff willy-nilly, while he was shilly-shallying about the place, looking for this mumbo jumbo thingamajig he'd lost pell-mell. Well, I tell you, there was some hurly-burly as I got out of there in my itty-bitty, razzmatazz jalopy, before helter-skelter came down upon my pointy hat.

And there you have it. It's best said with an accent, whether Cockney or Southern, and, ideally, is said while you're sitting on a mushroom, but it captures the irreducible essence of Gnomethink.

Disco Gnome?

Did you think the Gnomes got to me? That I'd been spirited away by a gang of gnomes? No, Gentle Reader. I'm still here. And I'm still maintaining my vigil of all things gnomish. Behold, from CB2:

The Disco Gnome

Pairing the glam whimsy of a disco ball with the furtive, earthy machinations of the garden gnome, they have spawned the Disco Gnome.

I admit to almost being tempted by this particular bit of bric-a-brac, because everybody's better with mirrors festooned across it.

Still, I am wary, because, like all things gnomish, this is something laden with peril and mystery. Incidentally, it appears that this gnome is nicknamed "Bling Bling," fittingly enough...

34: Paddle Ball

You know those paddle balls? The ones with the rubber ball attached to them by a length of rubber band? Gnomish. "It's fun!" these say, as if persuading themselves of it, or else trying to dupe a human mark into taking it up. And the little hole at the bottom of the handle seems a particularly sinister touch, like trying to get a "hole in one" with that being enough to drive a person crazy. Which is what the gnomes intended all along.

33: Cup Stacking

I refuse to call it "Sport Stacking." Refuse. You're stacking cups. Quickly. You're not reading, or enjoying sunshine or romance or anything. You're stacking cups. Quickly. Cup stacking seems like a "stupid kid" pastime -- the handheld version of Hungry Hungry Hippos, basically. I can't help but think that it's priming a generation of kids to be ace dishwashers. Or adroit street hucksters out to flim-flam unfortunate marks -- and that's the gnomish agenda laid bare in cup stacking. You stacked some fucking cups. Quickly. Good for you. Somewhere, you've made a gaggle of gnomes very proud.



Seeing shit like this makes me wish that these kids would take up more productive hobbies, like, I dunno, drugs.

32: Devil Sticks

Ooh, what a scary name, right? Devil Sticks. Hippie Sticks. Phish Sticks, they might as well be.

The origins of devil sticks remain obscure. What is known is that many civilizations around the world were creating several types of devil sticks starting at some time over 3,500 years ago.

Obscure origin? Oh, we know where they came from: yet another gnomish invention inflicted upon humanity. Is the Devil a gnome? He just might be! For sure, the whole "idle hands are the Devil's playthings" saying applies where devil sticks are concerned. These are invariably trotted out at assorted jam-bandish gatherings, when you get a bunch of gnome wannabes embracing gnomish values while smoking copious amounts of gnomeweed. Just as reliable as the hacky-sackers and the jugglers and the unicyclers is the devil sticker...

26: Benny Hill

Benny Hill was a damned gnome. He even looked like one. Just pop a beard on him and a pointy hat, and there you have it. I'm not going to do an in-depth analysis of the wit and wisdom of Benny Hill. He was a gnome. I mean, the theme music ("Yakety Sax" -- a gnome-name for a gnome theme if ever there was one) alone for his damned show might as well be the National Anthem of the Gnome Nation...



I seriously can't hear that theme song without wanting to smash something. And imagining a bunch of gnomes cavorting to it makes me want to smash even more things.

25: Moustache Wax

Now, gnomes are known for their jaunty beards, so you might wonder why moustache wax might be classified among gnomish products, yes?

But, gentle reader, if you've been paying attention at all to this blog and its vital message, you must immediately divine the insidious and invidious nature of moustache wax as yet another example of a gnomish sentiment inflicted on humanity to make us look ridiculous. I'm not sure who first got the idea, whether it was a gnome playing a prank on a Victorian man on a slow day, or whether some Victorian saw a gnome with a dolled-up moustache and, in a fit of whimsy, slapped beeswax to his face and became the sartorial toast of London for a fortnight.

Not sure who to blame, precisely, except the obvious target: gnomes. If anybody is going to wax their moustaches, it's the damned gnomes.

I bring this up especially since hipsters out there have taken to wearing beards for a number of years, now, and so it's only a matter of time (and I'm sure they're doing it as I type this, and the hippest of them have "been doing it for years") before the moustache wax meme returns in spades.

I won't give any of those twits any press by showing their moustachioed creations, so I'll simply use the venerable Rollie Fingers as an exemplar of this gnomish product and facial hair trend, and because Rollie Fingers was doing this long before any of the hipsters today did it, looked far cooler doing it, and that likely will bother them.

22: Slide Whistle

The slide whistle, and its bigger (arguably classier) sibling, the trombone, are gnomish instruments. I wanted to go with the basic form of the instrument, the most gnomish, so I defaulted to the slide whistle. It's impossible to even think of a slide whistle without that annoying, lilting sound of it coming to mind. Just in case you need some kind of ghastly, tooth-gnashingly grating reminder of it, here's a gnomish woman playing it (be sure to see her drop into a gnomish falsetto at the end of this piece, no doubt compelled by the playing of the slide whistle)...

20: Kitsch

I had to eventually get around to it: kitsch. Kitsch is bread-and-butter to gnomes. If the gnomes had their wicked way with the world, we'd be awash in kitsch. And click on that link on Wikipedia, and 'lo and behold, what do you see as their photographic example of kitsch? A goddamned garden gnome (right). Accident? No, I don't think so.

Kitsch is gnomish culture in a nutshell. While we officially have the Germans to blame for kitsch, the gnomes are, themselves master artisans of kitsch, which is nicely defined in the Wikipedia entry...

Kitsch (English pronunciation: /ˈkɪtʃ/, as in German) is a German word denoting art that is considered an inferior, tasteless copy of an extant style of art or a worthless imitation of art of recognized value. The concept is associated with the deliberate use of elements that may be thought of as cultural icons [1] while making cheap mass-produced objects that are unoriginal. Kitsch also refers to the types of art that are aesthetically deficient (whether or not being sentimental, glamorous, theatrical, or creative) and that make creative gestures which merely imitate the superficial appearances of art through repeated conventions and formulae. Excessive sentimentality often is associated with the term.

The term is considered derogatory, denoting works executed to pander to popular demand alone and purely for commercial purposes rather than works created as self-expression by an artist.[2] The term is generally reserved for unsubstantial and gaudy works that are calculated to have popular appeal and are considered pretentious and shallow rather than genuine artistic efforts.

You see the operative words: worthless, excessive sentimentality, tasteless -- these are words that get gnomes a'giggling from their mushroom perches. Hassle Bandicoot yucking it up with his gnomish buddies, blowing smoke rings and having a jolly laugh at mankind's expense as they foist kitsch on an unsuspecting world.

Curiously, the etymology of "kitsch" might tip the pointy hat of the gnomes...

Another highly possibly theory is that it comes from the Hungarian word kicsi Hungarian pronunciation: [ˈkɪtʃɪ]/kis [kɪʃ] meaning little or small. Most likely through Austrian German.

Little or small? Like, hmmm, a GNOME?

Kitsch is the enemy of art, and is the enemy of the artist. Kitsch must be avoided at all costs. And lest you think it's just a matter of taste...

Relationship to totalitarianism

Other theorists over time also have linked kitsch to totalitarianism and its propaganda. The Czech writer Milan Kundera, in his book The Unbearable Lightness of Being (1984), defined it as "the absolute denial of shit". He wrote that kitsch functions by excluding from view everything that humans find difficult with which to come to terms, offering instead a sanitized view of the world, in which "all answers are given in advance and preclude any questions".

In its desire to paper over the complexities and contradictions of real life, kitsch, Kundera suggested, is intimately linked with totalitarianism. In a healthy democracy, diverse interest groups compete and negotiate with one another to produce a generally acceptable consensus; by contrast, "everything that infringes on kitsch," including individualism, doubt, and irony, "must be banished for life" in order for kitsch to survive. Therefore, Kundera wrote, "Whenever a single political movement corners power we find ourselves in the realm of totalitarian kitsch."

For Kundera, "Kitsch causes two tears to flow in quick succession. The first tear says: How nice to see children running on the grass! The second tear says: How nice to be moved, together with all mankind, by children running on the grass! It is the second tear that makes kitsch kitsch."

So, you see, it's not just a matter of taste -- it's a matter of life, philosophy, art, freedom, and humanity itself! Down with kitsch! And, once again, if you know somebody who digs kitsch, they're a fellow traveler of gnomedom. Watch out!

18: Rube Goldberg Machines

I haven't delved into the gnomish addiction to contraptions too much, trying to lay the foundations of gnomedom before proceeding to its deeper mysteries, but the time is right to bring up the Rube Goldberg Machine as a terribly gnomish notion, succinctly defined as:

A Rube Goldberg machine is a deliberately over-engineered machine that performs a very simple task in a very complex fashion, usually including a chain reaction... the expression has expanded to denote any form of overly confusing or complicated system.

Over-engineered, overly confusing or complicated? Gnomish, in other words. I imagine a proper gnomish household to be full of such contraptions.

17: Lewis Carroll

"Twinkle, twinkle little bat How I wonder what you're at! Up above the world you fly, Like a tea-tray in the sky."

-- Lewis Carroll

Of course Lewis Carroll, the Vidkun Quisling of the gnomish agenda, out to betray humanity to the gnomes with his nonsense poetry and creepy, insane tales of Alice, must be numbered among gnomes and/or gnomish sycophants. Like nails traveling down the chalkboard of reason, he was, at least to me.

There's certainly a Cult of Carroll that embraces his mad whimsy as somehow expressive and freeing and fun, but I find his work irritating and creepy and unsettling.

Oh, and the missing diary entries for young Lewis, whatever could they be? His descendants with dustpans, cleaning up his messes, yes? Can't leave those scraps behind for the Snark to gobble up, now can we?

Carroll was a whimsical creep and a certifiable loon, which makes him certainly an A-lister among the gnomish saints. More Victorian baggage, perhaps part of the dark underbelly of Victorian social mores. Fortunately, that kind of nutballery has less currency than it once did.

Guaranteed that a fan of Carroll is a gnome, or a fellow traveler of gnomedom, or, at the very least, a pretentious eccentric.

16: Unicycle

Since the Vancouver Olympics has me thinking of sportish things for the moment, don't be surprised if I throw out a few more gnomish sporty items. Like the unicycle. Once again, like the most terribly gnomish of devices and contraptions, the mere invocation of it prompts a "Yes, of course" kind of reaction in the gentle reader.

"Ooh, look at me! I may be unbalanced, but no one can doubt my sense of balance! Hoo hoo! Ha ha! Hee hee! Look at me go! I'm on a unicycle! Tra la la lee!"

While the unicycle is surely the Cadillac of gnomish wheeled contraptions, any affectedly eccentric set of wheels runs the risk of being gnomish. Even if a pint-sized gnome couldn't even reach the peddles of such a bike, they'd sure want to, and would have a great, braying brass horn on their bike, too, just to be more annoying.

Note that wearing a wacky hat and juggling while riding a unicycle while playing a kazoo is surely gnomish heaven right there, and any individual doing this is a gnome.

15: Pogo Stick

The Pogo Stick is yet another piece of gnomish athletic equipment that really requires no explanation, as the idiocy of the contraption is self-evident. I bring it up only because technological innovations have created so-called "extreme pogo" -- a lifestyle that I think sensible people should avoid, as it is likely just gnomes having a bit of prankish fun with you (since the only thing dumber than a pogo stick is somebody practicing extreme pogo, like going off the side of a mountain or what-not).

9: Prop Comedy

I can't be sure whether a gnome invented prop comedy, but prop comedy is definitely gnomish, and is possibly another case of gnomish subversion in otherwise mundane human matters. Zany! Wacky! Giant-sized underpants! A big hammer! A tiny toilet! Woo hoo hoo!

While I'm sure prop comedy has its roots in vaudeville, and, thus, has some kind of comic lineage that is, perhaps, worthy of respect among its greatest practitioners, we're so far removed from vaudeville these days, it's hard to know what to think about it, anymore. Giant telephone! Ho ho hee! Lamp that looks like a leg! Har har hah!

I guarantee that gnomes, or the dupes of gnomes, are fans of prop comedy, and perpetrators. Notice Tommy Cooper's fez (e.g., wacky hat)...

5: Tom Bombadil

"Hey dol! merry dol! ring a dong dillo!/ Ring a dong! hop along! fal lal the willow! Tom Bom, jolly Tom, Tom Bombadillo!"

-- Tom Bombadil

Tom Bombadil. Tom Motherfucking Bombadil. I don't want Tolkien scholar dickbags quibbling about this, because it's just not even a matter of debate. "Spirit of the English countryside," my ass. Bombadil's a gnome. Easily the most annoying character in "The Lord of the Rings" by a country mile, Bombadil -- that carefree, verse-spouting, nimble-witted jackanape -- he might as well be the patron saint of gnomedom, embodying everything gnomish in everything he does. Behind every gnomish thing, there lies Bombadil.

I hate even writing about Bombadil, frankly. But as we delve into the depths of gnomedom, it's simply required for me to mention him. And if you are somebody who actually likes Bombadil, then you, my friend, are a damned gnome.

To those of you who may not know Bombadil, or what he signifies, just be warned: if a person you are interested in likes Bombadil, be afraid. Be very afraid. The militancy of their support for Bombadil is directly proportional to their douchiness. Trust me on this. If, on the other hand, you want to cockpunch Bombadil upon reading about him, then there's hope for you, yet.

Is he happy? Is he insane? Is he insanely happy? Is he happily insane? No one knows! Even Tom Bombadil doesn't know! Oooh, look how madcap he is, high on life....


There's a Zen saying, something about if you meet the Buddha, kill him. If you meet Tom Bombadil, kill him. Seriously. Just pop him.

4: Kazoos

One of the most well-known of gnomish musical instruments is the kazoo. Few instruments better embody the spirit of gnomish pointless whimsy quite like a good old-fashioned kazoo.

In fact, even the word "kazoo" is fucking gnomish (for the wordsmiths out there, the word originated in 1884, so we have the Victorians to blame for the goddamned kazoo).

Aren't they fun? Aren't they wacky? Kazoos for everybody! I think waterboarding is not necessary to break a terrorist -- you want them to break? Play kazoos at them for a few hours. THAT will break them.

And if you really, really want to annoy them, why not "talk" with a kazoo in your mouth? Can you imagine interrogating somebody doing "Kazoo Speak?" It'll confuse and infuriate them in short order, and they will break. No need for leg-breaking or forced posture positions or any of that so-called "Torture Lite." Just ship a box of kazoos to the interrogators and let them use them on the detainees (are we allowed to call them "prisoners" anymore?) and watch them break before the musical mimsy-whimsy that is the kazoo.

This clip more than amply demonstrates the torture potential of kazoos...



Oh, how wacky! Seriously, it makes the hair on my arms stand up.

3: "Funny" (Ugly) Hats

Few things are more gnomish than ugly hats. You know them when you see them. They can't simply be ugly; they have to be willfully, self-consciously "wacky" and "funny" and "weird" to really be gnomish hats. The stereotypical "gnomish cone" hat isn't enough these days. The real gnome-about-town swings for the rafters in their headwear.

The ultimate gnomish hat is the "Cat In the Hat" hat. Any person actually sporting one of these at a public event is a fucking gnome. Anybody even owning one of these is a gnome, and you should be immediately on guard about this person you only thought you knew.

Not to malign the anarchic spirit of the Cat in the Hat himself -- the coy menace he represents in that Seuss book is bold enough on its own, and has never been properly rendered outside of Seuss's writing. But the drive to wear such a hat is emblematic of gnomish impulses.

The runner-up to this hat is the beer helmet, which weds the gnomish tendency toward pointless whimsy with irritating contraptions (to be dealt with later).

Anybody wearing a beer helmet is a damned gnome. No two ways about it. And one might say "What's wrong with that?" The answer is, simply: EVERYTHING. It is a beer helmet. Human beings should not wear beer helmets.

Snowboarders are particularly susceptible to gnomish headgear, for reasons as yet unexplored. Maybe it's part of the devil-may-care culture endemic to snowboarding? I don't know.

In the case of this picture below, the girl is most definitely the gnome, here -- can't you see her smug smile, there? "Look what I did?!" She even looks like a gnome (the eyes are a dead giveaway, although I blocked them out, here). No doubt she crafted those wacky, wacky hats in a fit of contrived wackiness that plagues gnomes everywhere...

2: They Might Be Giants

They Might Be Giants (TMBG) is the Led Zeppelin of gnomish bands. They Might Be Giants? They Definitely Are Gnomes!



They are not the only gnomish band out there, but they are certainly the most quintessentially gnomish of bands. The only thing more gnomish than TMBG is the one-man band, the lackwit walking about with cymbals strapped to his knees, a harmonica at his mouth, a bass drum on his chest or his back....

Now, I know TMBG has earned some plaudits for their whole children's music venture. Sure, sure, why not? But TMBG will always be a gnomish outfit, pimping out their wannabe whimsical gnomish affectedly quirky tunes for their flock.