Well, here's the bad news. I've talked with my new ISP, and it will be at least two weeks before I can get service. So, at best, I will be back on the last week of August. But the good news is that I will be writing all that time, so I will have a deluge of blog posts when I come back. Oh, how I hate to think of what my e-mail accounts are going to look like when I return. I will have to delegate the duty of responding to my e-mails to my parakeet, Psycho.
To all of you who enjoy my writings, I thank you for all of your kind readings and comments. I can only promise you that I WILL BE BACK. But for the time being, I'm taking a forced vacation from the Internet.
Here's the good news. I'm leaving all of my blogs up so that you may view the previous posts to catch yourselves up. And, apparently, I've found some old, old, old blog posts from another blog that never made it onto this one. So, I'm going to repost them. Yaaaaay!
* * *
"
Is It Something JUICY?!"
I just put the title and the category together to make click on the link out of PURE, UNRESTRAINED WONDER. Because I know you crave depravity. Good for you. Good minion, you get a biscuit.
As you may probably tell, I am full of Smirnoff, and in a writing mood. Namely because my ISP is governed by unreliable people and/or machines. I would like to blame the public in general, but that only works if a stampeding herd of random people broke into my ISP server room and began certain orgiastic rituals.
Orgiastic = Wet.
Wet = Not Good for Silicon.
Not Good for Silicon = Fried People.
Fried People = Well Cooked Meat Patties At Your Local Fast Food Establishment.
* * *
"
The Workplace Chant"
I was simply pacing about work today, chanting, "I love my ISP, I love my ISP, I love my ISP, I love my ISP WITH A KNIFE! NO! NO! BAD! BAD THOUGHTS!"
And that's when the angry Japanese businessmen opened fire. Bullets and goats were flying everywhere. My thoughts raced washing machines to produce, and I followed them tightly, avoiding the mayhem. Always avoid the angry Japanese businessmen WITH UNMARKED BRIEFCASES.
One could only wonder how it was the pimento that saved me. Although, truthfully, I should state that it was the billions of pimentos that rained down from a particularly bullet-and-goat ridden storage system thirty feet up.
It was because of all this, I actually get around to posting a blog at this time.
* * *
"
Schrodinger's *my name*"
Ah yes, it is now time for the new year's blog.
Despite what you may think, there is overwhelming evidence that you DO NOT EXIST. Keep in mind that unless you are a celebrity, there are six billion people who do not recognize your existence. The air you breathe, the food you eat, the space you take up is not recognized by the bulk of all sentient creatures within our known universe. On an individual basis, using quantification based on impressions and memories, none of us truely exist because of the sheer volume of people without evidence of your existence is overwhelming.
And heck, after you die, there's no chance in a hundred years that anyone will remember you. Only the MOST FAMOUS OF ALL PEOPLE remain remembered, typically because they had an earth-shattering impact on the whole of humanity.
My goal is to become so obscenely famous that even after I die, billions of people will still be quoting me tens of thousands of years later.
See? Immortality is within your grasp.
* * *
"
The Sound Of Cheese Aging"
And once more, "Who's Your Daddy?!"
I'm your Daddy.
* * *
There's obviously a whole lot more. But if I post them all, then there won't be a reason for you to come back at the end of August. You'll have to return. You know you want more.
Pride And Fall - Elements Of Silence - The Perfect Circle
7
only those who would claim themselves as seekers may find information on the Internet - and with the diversity and creativity present therein - to break the boundaries limiting not only of the flesh but all the surrounding physical laws and frontiers; for there - in the place not known by geography, but by its place within the mind - can one free oneself from the confines of commmonly accepted belief --seven is darker
