<$BlogRSDUrl$>

Totally senseless nattering without a shred of redeeming value? Probably...

Sunday, August 31, 2003

Yes I was killed, then this shit ass thing killed my post. I have been working flip-flop shifts and have to be up early tomorrow. Plus asses that send me worms keep me busy cleaning them out. I don't even have time for a clandestine relationship some days.
Harumpf!
Told ya so!

Solo! Abandonato!
See? It's been a whole day and none of you have posted. You were killed yesterday were'nt ya?
I knew it!
Doomed, as I predicted.

Saturday, August 30, 2003

What does it matter when we're all doomed anyhow.
Good news, Bob, that you're a Democrat. Being a Democrat isn't enough though; you've got to get out there and talk to your friends and neighbors. You've got to volunteer to make get-out-the-vote calls at your local Democratic Party Center. You've got to make a difference!

Now, if only Kitty weren't a Canadian...oh, well. You can still post Democratic links on your website, Kitten!
Oh cool...now I know where he is hiding it.

Friday, August 29, 2003

Don't worry Mare. I'm a fully fledged Democrat. Fear not. I even vote.
Bobby, in case you aren't motivated to take on the GOP, you might give heed to the comments of Matt Foreman. National Gay and Lesbian Task Force Executive Director. His remarks included the statement: And mark my words, [the GOP] are already geared up to make gay people and our relationships the Willie Hortons of the 2004 election cycle. This time, gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people will be their chosen prey to distract the nation from the mess they've created at home and abroad. Read it all.
Kitten, you can find all the chapters of Bob's erotica, PUD just by clicking PUD. Neat, huh? I love the internet!

Oh, and when you reach the site, just click on the oldest date first, for that's the first chapter. If you don't want to read it online, open it up and save it to your hard drive as text to read later. You can save all 6 chapters to read at your leisure. Just remember to delete them when you're done. Tampy doesn't want to sue any of us for copyright infringements.
Tampy dear, I would read your book if I could find it. Also if I could spend more than most of my life at my hideous job I would love to read it. Perhaps the mental midgets of the world will not call when I am at work tomorrow and I can read it there. Is it in blog somewhere?
Bob, before you get too angry with me about your book, please take into consideration all the time I've been spending trying to ensure that we Californians remain unsullied by the GOP. You may not be frightened by the prospect, but that's only because you are part ostrich. You should put your book aside for now and spend your energies supporting Democrats for the governorship. Don't forget ! Vote against the recall and for Bustamante. We must prevail.

But I'm glad to hear you're prepared to fend off Fred's demands, at least. He's so spoiled since he became a famous rich author!

Kitty, Fred never exposed himself to me. You must be very special.
In re: your question of my rising hour. I'll have you know that, being a person of good habits, I rise daily (yea, even unto holidays) at 4 and 30 o'the clock. My tiny person just naturally wakes at that hour. There appears to be nothing I can do about it for 3 or 4 hours after which I'm able to go back and make sleemees.

Tampyawnabus

P.S. I shall be pulling no rickshaws for erzatz author-wannabees. Neither too shall he have my lips around his weenus. I don't 'do' with flatulators.

And besides, if none of you is going to read more than two chapters of my wonderful (and beautifully written!) story, then you should all fuck off and eat raman. I'm going back to read the whole thing in one sitting right now just to spite you (also cause I'm gonna get busy on chapter 7 this weekend.) and then write myself some fan lettuce. Fuck off!
I think this blog thing is slow on the update.
Mare dear, Fred is always exposing himself. Perhaps he has my tonsils and uses them when he thinks he needs a colon.
For lunch, I wanted to reproduce my wonderful noodle lunch recipe, but I was out of ramen noodles. I decided that angel hair pasta should be about the same. I went through all the steps, adding some ground spices I had leftover from an earlier pasta dish in place of flavoring packet. I gotta tell you: it was awful! The ramen is essential to the dish. Just remember that if you're tempted to make substitutions.

BTW, I'm always interested in creative ways to make a meal from ramen noodles, especially if they doesn't require the addition of a lot of expensive ingredients. So feel free to post your recipes here.
Fred, don't worry about fixing that link. I took the liberty of fixing it myself, said the little red hen.
It's a shame when you read a blog that you can't comment on, yet you violently disagree with its message.
Are you sure, Kitty? Because I heard that there was a rogue gang of tonsil harvesters in operation who were reselling the contraband tonsils as an exotic soup ingredient. Famous, wealthy writers were paying big bucks for them. Fred can probably tell you more, if he's willing to expose himself.
I am going to answer Fred's question because he has the unmitigated gall to abandon us here. I fell asleep one day and someone took my tonsils. I heard they sold them on the black market to help people with their colons.
Okay, leave me alone here, but if I sink into excessive sincerity, you'll have only yourselves to blame.
Bolg? Democrtic? What's wrong with you two?

Bobby, what are you doing up at 5 AM? More of that old bugaboo, depression? Or do home owners in LA have to get up early in order to pay property taxes?

You'll be happy to know that we (Kitty and I) have saved you from ferrying Fred around in a rickshaw. Now he's going to ferry you. No! That's no pun, dammit!

Speaking of Fred: it takes some nerve for a rich, famous writer to go off on a jaunt to the mountains with his lovely wife, leaving the rest of us to swelter in the valley while we keep the blog alive. It's this kind of callous treatment that leads to class warfare. Just wait until he gets back, with his tales of fancy teas, massages, spas, golf, caviar and high-priced mouse genes. We shall riot in the streets of bollox! Down with the imperialist writer class!
I am off the air till Tuesday.

Good luck in all of your endeavors!
I am about to leave on a long weekend in the mountains. It should be a fine time for Mr. and Mrs. Willard.

Mare, I must have put the link in the wrong place. I'll straighten it out when I'm back in town.

I think it would only be fair for Bob and I to take turns pulling the Rickshaw, but If I did it my heart would explode and Bob would have to dispose of the body. Therefore we will organize along the principle of "From each according to his ability to each according to his need."

It would be swell if the Democrtic party had a soul, but I'd be happy just to see it win.

Kitty, how did you lose your tonsils? All of bollox wants to know.

Oh.
So where's the bolg?

Thursday, August 28, 2003

I have been missing periods for over 17 years now. That doesn't upset me in the least. My tonsils have been gone for 30 years, but if my colon was missing I would be worried.
No, I have my colon...I might be missing other things.
Have you ever seen anybody who wasn't flesh-colored? The only ones I ever saw were painted.

Watch your edits of my excessively sincere links, Frederick! Methane has no place on the menu.
What's this late to rise, early to bed nonsense? Lazy slackers!
Does the Democratic Party have a soul? It could have, in 2004.
If you do a Google on sincerely excessive, you get some odd responses. I suggest you search instead for "sincerely excessive." You'll get many fewer hits that way, but they won't be quite so disconcerting.
You aren't listening, Fred. Kitty and I have it all sorted out. You are to pull; Bob is to ride. It's the only way.

Sorry to hear about your flu, Kitty. It wasn't like you to be silent so long; I knew something was wrong. BTW, don't worry about punctuation: like paprika, whether you use a lot or a little, the flavor stays the same. Hm. Well, maybe it's like salt. Or sugar. I'm sure it's like something.

Should any of you tire of my excessive sincerity, you can try some sincere excess.
Air Content: 80% methane
Did you miss a colon?
I truly hate it when entree's have no punctuation in them. Look at Seafood Newburg or Lobster Thermadore, where is there punctuation in that? However if one was to say anything about Turkey with stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy and corn....now that has punctuation.
I also think I should go lay back down. That is because of the lack of punctuation in my last entree, has made me feel quite unwell again.
This is why you were alone Mare: I have had the flu, plus carrying on a clandestine relationship via email and on the phone with one of my US suppliers. Needless to say the supplier is in just across the San Fran Bay.

I have not heard from Anal and Fred and I have tried to cow her into joining.

I also think Fred pulling Bob in a rickshaw would have much greater appeal. Especially when Fred's fake heart blows a gasket. Let's face it Bob waving a Belgian lace hanky and holding a parasol is a much more appealing sight than Fred doing it. I am sure the hairy Navy Seals and Bears at the leather bar would agree that Bob holds more allure than some wealthy writer with a fake heart and semi hairy legs.
Actually, Bob will be in Chinese formal dress and will be pulling me.

I haven't settled on my costume yet.

Maybe I will dress like Lash Larue.

And what of your excessive sincereity?
The image of you pulling Bob in the rickshaw has a certain appeal. Ask Kitty. I'm sure she'll see it.

What of my excessive sincerity?
You are alone because nobody else is here.

In Hollywood, I will ride the rickshaw. Bob will be dressed in an embroidered red satin Chinese ensemble and will cut a dashing figure.

The recipe does sound explosive. It's certain to win the Gold Medal for whoever eats it.
What's become of Kitten? And Annalou? And Tampy? And Fred? Why am I all alone? Was it the excessive sincerity? The long, pointed silences? The methane? What?
Re: your trip to Hollywood. Are you going to ride in or pull that rickshaw? I just want to be sure I have the correct image in my mind.
Just in passing, I would like to point out to you, Freddie, that three wrongs are morally superior to even one neo-right. That's using the WSMQ (World Standard Morality Quotient): you know, the one that says people are more important than profits. It says a bunch of other things, too, but they all devolve to that one simple concept. Under that concept, we would never have gone to war against Iraq, because we would have seen the irony in killing/maiming thousands of people to rid the world of one immobilized tyrant. And all in the name of peace? Forgive my incredulity.
You made up those Official rules, Fred. I know you did. Little does it profit a man if he makes up his own rules yet loses his rights to fancy teas.

For Tampy's contest, I have something much more effective than bean salad. Try this: chop one sweet onion. Drop it into boiling vegtetable broth or water with half a pound of garden salad; that is, prepackaged salad composed of iceberg lettuce, shredded red cabbage and grated carrots. Boil until translucent. Crush noodles from 2 packages of chicken flavor ramen noodles. Add them to the vegetables. Add the flavoring packets. Reduce the heat to simmer. Break two eggs into a bowl. Slip the eggs gently onto the top of the ramen/vegetable mixture. Do not stir! Cover tightly and leave on lowest setting for 6 minutes or until eggs are set. Ladle into two bowls and serve sprinkled with cayenne pepper. There's something about that onion/egg/vegetable combo that produces real results. Despite its explosive properties, it is also an inexpensive, simple to prepare, nutritionally rich lunch.

Go to American Rhetoric and listen to MLK, Jr., Fred, and all will be forgiven. Every year when I listen to that speech, I am awed again. What a man! What a mind! And, of course, what a loss!

Enough excessive sincerity or shall I serve up some more?
Mare,

I have checked the Official Rules and Rituals of Blogdom and found you are wrong, wrong, wrong.

It is the responsibility of the blog owner to provide essential services to blog members.

For instance, you should hitch hike to Tampy's with a bean salad for his training diet should he choose to participate in the World Championship of Farting.

And,

You should send me expensive teas so I don't lose my integrity.
Mare,

You're not being excessively sincere.

Hugo Home

Wednesday, August 27, 2003

Freddie, my dear, this is not a list. The old rules do not apply. You should feel privileged that I allow you to post here for the measly sums I charge. You're already late paying your bill; I expect prompt payment upon receipt. If enough people take responsibility for their debts (Bob? Kitten?), then I may be able to consider some upgrades to the service. Until then, buzz off!

Mare,

To repeat my previous message: I don't have any link icon or BI on my post tool bar.

Why not?

As list owner it is your responsibility to solve this probelm even if it means you have to stay up all night and ruin your health.

It's a solemn repsonsibility to run the bollox blog, as any excessively sincere person will immediatly realize.

I am anguished that this problem has not been sorted out and think I may take a nap to deal with my despair and disappointment.

An entire nation grieves... how can you be so callous?

Hugo Home
Coming back from the doctor's office this morning I saw a sign which said: ACE Spanking Center.

I wonder what that was?

Heart Rate: 67
I think we might create a stir by wearing crowns of laurels and togas.

Tuesday, August 26, 2003

Maybe you and him can go to the leather bars and cruise for bears.
I never claimed to have any morals to be sacrificed.

I don't have any B I or blue balls on my edit tool bar.

... and yes, I do have a plan to create excitement in LA. Bob has agreed to give me the grand tour in a rickshaw.
I know naught of Hollywood as I forsoke the bidness when I came out to here.
But don't take my advice. Ask Bob. He'd know.
But after fall, integrity can be somewhat dull. Hollywood deals in excitement. You may have to generate some if you want to swim there.
Your heart rate is too low, Fred.

I do worry about your integrity. That's just me. I'm a worrier.

What on earth are you talking about, Fred? I am talking about adding a link to Arts & Letters Daily to our link collection. You don't need blue balls for that. Anyway, there is no blue ball available as you note. I used HTML just as you did.

The blue ball is only available to create links within text when you post. I assume you're posting from the same page I am? You are in Blogger where it says Create New Post? Beneath that, in bold it says Post, and beneath that, you see a B I and a little blue ball. I can't paste it here or reproduce it. That's very handy for adding links to posts, but as far as I know, it has absolutely no value in adding links to Links.

But then, I'm easily confused.
Well then we must all fear for Fred. He seems to be in peril and his morals will be in question.
Mare, don't worry about my integrity. I'm only going to work on high class projects.

The first one is going to be a musical comedy based on the McNeil/Lehrer News Hour.

Then, I'm going to do a modern teen romance set around an updated version of the Lincoln/Douglas Debates
Heart Rate:68
Yes, Mare I'm proud of you. I don't have a link button on the toolbar, so I've been having to write links in HTML with a text editor. How are you doing it and why don't I have a blue ball -- on the toolbar?
You've all been to visit BushCo's website, I trust? If not, you must drop by for a little Southern hospitality. You'll be vastly enriched by your visit, though it may have an upfront cost. Give it a twirl.
Bobby, baby, click on Arts and Letters Daily under Mare's Excessively Sincere Links. That's aldaily. I'm so proud.

Fred, ain'cha proud of me?
What, me blather? I assume you are making an attempt at humor, Bob. But, please, by all means, post the Parched Persephone, edited of course of X-rated material. We wouldn't want to char young minds.

Kitty, you don't understand how Hollywood works, do you? I don't blame you. After all, you're an innocent, righteous Canadian. It wouldn't occur to you that people could descend to such depths and still lay claim to humanity. It's a frightening situation. First, they lure innocents to town. They give lip service to observing boundaries, but there never was a boundary to they didn't intend to siege. Their baby steps seem so innocuous, the victims rarely realize they've been compromised until their souls are on the spit. Oh, Fred's doomed, believe me. All we can do is have you, in your new spirituality, pray for his soul. Sad, but there it is.
I have 15 cents. I will bid 15 cents on your integrity.
Tampy is correct. Not only can I not read the Japanese edition, but it took me a while to figure out how I was supposed to hold it. They read from what we would consider back to front.

Methane is no joke. Just ask the Terminal Flatulence Foundation.

I am already seeling my integrity to the highest bidder. What am I bid?

If I spend any time in LA, I won't want to drive, so I'm thinking about making Tampy pull me around in a rickshaw.

It will be a great conditioning program for him and it would be a way for me to establish myself in the comminuity.



Monday, August 25, 2003

Don't worry Mare, Fred won't sell his integrity. I hear no one knows what integrity is in LA therefore they would not buy it. Well there is an exception Tampy, he has tons of integrity. When they had it for sale he bought all of it because he knew no one else around there would put it to good use.
Woman, what are you blathering about? What an aldaily?
If you aren't careful, I shall republish the Parched Persephone, and we wouldn't want that now would we?

Oh, I'm so proud of myself! I added aldaily. I can now add my own excessively sincere links and change the course of history. See, Bob, I'm not too old to learn. If I can do it, so can you. Those linky things, you know.
What about Baz? Does anybody have his email address? We need to invite him. Unless of course, he's Fred or Bob or Randi or Annalou, in which case he is here already. Perhaps he is all four! What fun!

You've been very naughty today, children. Let's have no more jokes about methane. It's not a laughing matter.

Freddie, don't go to Hollywood and sell your integrity! What are you thinking? There's more to life than money, women, wine and sunshine. Pathetic, what some people will do for fancy teas. I'm glad I'm on the moral high road.

Catch the lastest on Kucinich. He's not going to sit idly by while men die.

I'm full of grace from tending gkids. Blessings upon us all. Cheerio, sinners!
He uses braille. All blind authors do.
Betcha can't read it.
I just received my copies of the Japanese edition of Princess Naughty and the Voodoo Cadillac.

Very cool.
More proof it is a bad idea.
If the butt plug is forced out with that kind of velocity it also may blow many buildings and bridges out. Then they will claim it as a terrorist action.
Tampy, how much do the catalytic convertors weigh? If it's more that 8 oz you will have to carry mine.

Hopefully, it won't leak.

I am working on a number of proposals, so I'll have to see what happens.

If I get the green light, I'll move in with you.

I'll take the master bedroom and you can sleep under the stairs and cook gourmet meals which you can pay for from your high salary as a prize-winning star of the product support industry.


Heart Rate: 78
Freddy honey, you'd need to get a smog certificate to live here. If you don't pass the inspection then you may need a new catalytic converter and they come dear.

Butt blasting is proscribed within 10 feet of any building entrence, it says nothing about inside the structure. Considering your penchant for projectile pooping, I think you must eschew but plugs altogether, however large or small.

Have you movie script work in your future? What delight!

You will, of course, want to take me to many dinners at quite expensive resturants at the studio's expense while you're here. It can be research or something like that. Can you also see your way clear to providing me a male tart as my payment for ushering you to and fro? It's only fair.

Blood Pressure 121 (I wuz jist ta the docter man)
I don't think that would work. The gas would force the plug out at such a high velocity that it might kill someone.
I think they have butt plugs to stop the pollution of butt blasting there. Tampy will show you how to use one, I am sure.
Tampykins, I am trying to learn all things LA as I may end up having to spend some time out there. Do they have environmental ordinances against butt-blasting, for instance. Perhaps I could move into the town house next to your's and tap into the air conditioning ducts. Maybe I could convince Birtlles to be your roomate too.

How many awards have you won lately?

We need to know these things.


Fred, I am sorry about your kitty. But at least it went peacefully and on a persian carpet.

As for pricks, remember this...you can prick your finger but you can't finger your prick, in public.
A spiritual meal is like when a prisoner is going to the gas chamber...his last supper. It could also be when the natives are sick of the arrogant Christian or Pentacostal missionaries and cook and eat them. It could be many things a spiritual meal.

Sunday, August 24, 2003

Gkids were here. We spend hours playing Geneforge. I died. Too many times.

Fred, Bob isn't going to tell you what part of LA he lives in. He's trying to usurp my position as the blog paranoid. BTW, condolences on your cat. I know it's too soon to think of getting another, but I do have a spare. Keep it in mind. Mrs. Fred would adore him.

Bob, I live to see you post your own linky things. It is my sole reason for existing.

I've only read one chapter of your work. I'll get to the second one tonight. Then I'll have to go download more. I don't like his pinched mouth. It's unfair, even considering the smile wattage. As a pinched mouth possessor myself, I know the pain it brings him. So much pathos!

I am too tired to do anything more tonight. Gkids gain energy by visiting; I lose.
Currently, I live in North Hollywood which is just over the hill from Hollywood in the San Fernando Valley. I'll be moving soon to my town house in Reseda which is about 10 miles down the road further into the god forsaken valley.
No. I don't like it here. In fact, I never have. I'm an east coast kinda guy. If I had my druthers I'd live in Manhatten and have a country house in the Poconos.
I'm just stuck out here. It's all desert and stupid Mexican architecture (if you can call it architecture.)
There are good things here, but all my friends are dead or on drugs and I've been greiving so don't have new friends to replace them yet.
Heigh ho, lackaday!

There it is.
Mr. Bob,

What part of LA do you live in? Do you like it there?
LOL Glad I'm in LA.
Fart Rate: 143/hr
Pulse Rate: 71
Mare, your advice is always fascinating, but I went to cardiac rehab for about six months. Now I am doing it at home. Ergo the stationary bike. That is, as you say, how it works.

My cat was still alive until last week. I awoke to find it dead in the middle of a persian carpet in the living room. It was a nice setting for a dead cat.

Hence, the cat carrier you posted would mostly be of value to me for taking it's corpse to visit some of it's favorite haunts.

Also, please don't mention the blue balls to Tampy.

We don't have any Koalas around here but the possums are fucking with wild enthusiasm and reclaiming the downtown area for their own.

Does a prick not bleed?




How many chapters of my little scribbling have you all read to date?
I shan't take away your current reason to exist. I shall continue to give you the grace of posting my linky thingys.
Oh, it's no trouble ma dear.

Magnanimus Tamp
Oh, and Bob, Karen Blixen is one of my favorite authors. What a lovely link!
Bob, you see that little blue ball at the uppermost left-hand corner of the Post box? If you want to insert a URL anywhere in your text, you merely copy the url, click on the ball, paste the url in the dialogue box that pops up and click ok. Then you preview your post to be sure it appears as you desired. If it does, you can either re-edit and add more to the post or post the post. Very simple.
Heart rate 83? You are dead, Fred. However, if you are still debating cardiac rehab vs. bike at home, rehab has equipment to monitor your physical condition, so it's good insurance against overdoing it. It needn't be a long course, just a long enough to provide a guideline that you can use to continue exercising on your bike at home. That's how that works.

You told me your cat was still alive!

Anal, your writing has improved vastly.

Tampy, there's room for only one paranoid per blog, and I'm the paranoid on this one. Although this is a public group, don't deceive yourself that anyone would waste time reading it. We are always so much more mundane than we imagine.

Kitten, what's a spiritual meal?
Linky thingy for Mary to post:

http://www.karenblixen.com/babette.html
From Babette's Feast:


The General’s speech (quoting the pastor): Mercy and truth have met together. Righteousness and bliss shall kiss one another. Man, in his weakness and shortsightness, believe he must make choices in this life. He trembles at the risks he takes. We do know fear. But no. Our choice is of no importance. There comes a time when your eyes are opened. And we come to realize that mercy is infinite.We need only await it with confidence, and receive it with gratitude. Mercy imposes no conditions. And, lo! Everything we have chosen has been granted to us, and everything have rejected has also been granted. Yes, we even get back what we rejected. For mercy and truth are met together; and righteousness and bliss shall kiss one another.
Finally some sense! That divine Italianate goddess Ms. Morone (rhymes with bologny) has looked inward to her Austrailianate persona and asked many questions of herself. She has, like an ancient Sybil, quoted warnings both dire and risible. Her mention of dogs and doors niggles at the brain and the connection between dogs and aliennes! Could she be out of this world? Hath she not blud? Does a prick not bleed . . . I forget the rest. . .
As to the monster Tampon exposing himself, it's no big thing and has hardly ever been done on the World Wide Web thingy last nite and again this morning.

Two questions remain unanswered.

1. What of camenbert?
2. Quis?
It was a dark and rainy night, the ford impassable, the trees dripping endlessly, dark shadows slipping from treetop to treetop. Is it the bloody possums again, Anal Loo asked herself as she glanced up from reading the latest serial killer book (Ted Bundy if you must know) or the fucking koalas, literally, now the mating season has been declared open? Who cares anyway? Anal added to herself, then subtracted, divided and multiplied. Only one thing is certain, there will be more possums and koalas next year. She flips out a careless hand at her computer, and tunes in to the bollox blog. This proves somewhat difficult as she's forgotten which who she is tonight. It's nearly as bad as that stuff with the stolen credit cards. The blog fails to catch her interest. No gory photos, for a start. Mare is still paranoid and looking for frugal recipes, but has moved on from vampires to poison. I must be cautious, Anal said to herself, if an Express diskette from Mare suddenly shoots out the disk drive. Mare, whoever s/he really is, has never believed that Anal is Anal, let alone that Anal is Debbi from Dallas. Fred is blithering, which means he's either between books or one is driving him crazier. I don't blame him for looking longingly at a bike when he is jammed in such an uncomfortable position. And why does he need a heart monitor when, like Howard, he is now heartless? Two clues there...Kitty is still spiritually developing; can she cook spiritually yet and only feed her soul? Perhaps she's developing a spiritual poison for mass distribution. Note to self: must be cautious if an Express diskette from Kitty suddenly shoots out the disk drive. The exquisite and elegant Tampon worries over his image, as well he might since it has shrunk so radically. Note to self: warn Tampon to *start* being cautious about the Express diskettes he's been avidly fishing out of the disk drive. She wonders idly why he is afraid of his postings on the blog being seen by strangers when he has exposed himself so completely elsewhere...

Anal sighs. Nothing has changed except the possum and koala poppulations. The great question of life - why is the dog always on the wrong side of the door? - remains unanswered.

Saturday, August 23, 2003

Mare, you shouldn't watch C-span. It's always dealing with issues.

You'd be better off watching Animal Detectives. There's a lot of moral certainty there.

I am rich in wisdom of the path to enlightenment.

Tampy is special to.

In fact, we all are special in our own ways... even if those ways are largely incomprehensible to the citizens of the outside world.

I am pleased to receive so much encouragement on my purchase of an excercise bike.

I have tried to sit and be fit, but it hasn't worked well for me.

Now I have a few choices: 1. use the bike at home, 2. go back to cardiac rehab and pay much more money to use their bike, or 3. keel over and become as dead as my late cat.

I think even the fuckwits around here can see the benefits of choice one.

Now, Mare, regarding the issue of the predictability of becoming a serial poisoner, I think anyone who was a modestly observant human with some exposure to the social sciences would come to the obvious conclusion that every member of your family was going to be a poisoner.

Accept it , use it, and don't send me any cakes in the mail.

Tampy, if someone wants to find these posts, they can read them.

I intend to produce vast amounts of methane and ship you a huge plastic garbage bag filled with it. Save it for when your lights go out.

Heart Rate: 83






Watching the March on Washington celebration on C-Span was a bit of a downer today. There simply weren't enough people. Where are the activists? Are people indifferent? Intimidated? What?
Yes, Bob. You are somebody. Tell us about your house. You're all moved in now? Got lots of new furniture? Cooking gourmet dinners for luscious guests? Did you buy tools to do your own yardwork or hire a service? You must save some room in the sun to plant tomatoes and zucchini next spring. Add a bit of basil and some onions and you'll have most of the ingredients for a lovely zucchini dish.

I had summer zucchini donated to me by a home gardener and used some to make bread and butter pickles. If you add some red pepper flakes to the vinegar mixture, you get a nice bite along with the sweetness.
You have always been somebody. Just you don't go around buying solid gold exercise bikes.
I bought a house and have a story on Nifty. . . I'm sumbody too. Ain't I?
Knowing Fred, he has probably checked out the doctor.
Tampy, Fred has made billions and so has the ever stuck up Mister Hursey. He has become far too wealthy for us after his legal battles with the HOA, he now features himself another Johnny Cochrane.
I am busy with my feeling quite ill and helping others in their spiritual development. I think I may be over developed.
Kitty, you're very quiet. Are you busy with your spiritual development?
Hey Mr. Famous Author, if, in addition to riding your bike, you do deep knee bends and work on upper body strength with 1 pound weights, you'll become handsome as well as fit. If you're just starting out, you can tape the Sit and Be Fit series on PBS. It is a gentle but effective way to attain a measure of fitness. Of course, you've checked out your plans with your doctor?
Fred, you've used up the good you're going to get from the exercise bike. I have one, too. It makes a lovely coat rack. You can also hang cat toys from the handle bars.

Shall I reveal Carol as a bedwetter? Or did you have Paul in mind for that? I can show them both dissecting a parakeet, if you think that might be engaging. Alternatively, I may try to have them overcome their vicious early years to become rich, well-known authors. You know...on the theory that characters should show growth, be changed by events.

I don't know. Having them become poisoners is just so predictable. Life isn't like that, then, is it?

Or do you adhere to the 'as the twig is bent' theory of development? Can other factors be involved? We talk about having the wrong genes, but what if you happened to have the right genes? What if you became a sterling human being despite enduring a searing childhood? Improbable, perhaps, but writers have convinced readers of less likely events.

Kitty, I'm so proud of you for your conversion. I'm sure giving up flogging was difficult for you, but the spiritual path is much more rewarding. Well done!

Bob, I've added your Rude Food to my list of fun sites. Very good find!
I think Howard's the rich one. OR Anal and the NP. Doctor, you know!

How can you get wealthy from two minor novels? Why, he's prolly not even comfortablely off.
I feel so alone here...Tampy, speak. Or are you out on a date?
Are you intimating that Fred has a heart? He has no heart. He is a wealthy writer who has spent the last month torturing Mare and I by flaunting his obscene wealth in our faces.
Can these posts be seen by the general public or just us.

Freddy honey. Don't ride the bike. I fear that your heart can't take it, plus, it induces methane production.

Next, I suppose you'll have potato bugs coming out of your willy. I shan't. I'd drink Raid first.
Oh, my , yes!
Mary, remember that bed wetting and torturing pets are early signs of the serial killer.

Tampy, if you press the view blog tab below the message editing space and above the messages you will see the blog. The links are on the right.

I spent the day buying magazines and a stationary bike so I can get some aerobic excercies inside where it is air conditioned. I already lost fifteen pounds wrestling the fucker up the steps.

Now it is sitting next to my desk saying, "Fred, please ride me."

It's handy becasue I can hook the heart monitor up to my ear while I write.

I'll post the heart rate here every five minutes.

Here's a link for you Mary. I just ran across it whist looking for a mac and beef recipt.

http://www.dazbert.co.uk/sites/rudefood/
Jesus fucking Christ Mary! Is this how you spend your days, trolling for horror news.
Stop it immediately.
There it is.
Besides, I suspect willard
There's no question about it: we're on the verge of being exterminated by insects. If this doesn't make you clutch your willy, nothing will. But leave a hand free for your eyes.



No, Bob, you don't see any links. I am the only one who supplies decent links...except for Fred, of course. Get on the ball, slackers!
Links!
I don't see any fucking link.
You've convinced me, Fred. I'll try action.

Where is everybody? It's a Saturday, for God's sake. There should be lots of posts containing vastly entertaining links to all manner of bollox. This blog idea...maybe it was premature? Bring bollox out into the sunlight and everybody gets a case of sunburn.
Life is too fast, but fiction frequently isn't.

These days you have to start with a bang then move to a bigger bang.

They aren't writing Victorian novels anymore, because space aliens are afraid of dogs.
Oh, there's AL. Could have fooled me. What's with the name? Is this a new persona or the real you?
Understand, Fred, I'm not arguing with you. I mean, you a published author and all. If you say get to it then I have no doubt you're right, but isn't life too fast anyway?
Freddie, haven't you ever heard of suspense? If I show you the end before I show you the beginning, what's to keep you reading?
Mary, you need to get into the poisoning part much quicker.

Star out with a glimpse of your first poisoning... perhaps the vicitm hopelessly writhing on the floor, then flashback to the days of your youth.

Hello Anal! It's much worse than you think.
I know someone who was married to a Morone. Her mother could never get the name right and pronounced it moron.
Debbi Morone! Should we use the Italian pronunciation of Morone?
Titter whoooooop!
My God, you wonder 'whatever happened to...?' and then finding out is worse than not knowing. Hi all, bleatings and hallucinations from yore old frend Anal.

Friday, August 22, 2003

Ohio Congressman Seeks to Lift FirstEnergy License. You sic 'um, Kucinich!

Let's all sing The Fair & Balanced Song (to be sung to 'Love and Marriage').

How to put your obituary to good use: one last generous act.

Oh, yeah. Breathe deep, Baby!
Freddie, I've reposted B&P for your delectation. Please keep your comments honest and kind. Yes, I know I'm asking a lot, but you're clever enough to meet the challenge.
Tamps, I am impressed with your writing. Witty and charming, as always. I'm half in love. Only half because I don't want to become a fag hag. Keep up the good work!

BTW, can you share the secret of lightheartedness with me? I am perpetually excessively sincere.

Kitty! You finally found your way in. I'm so proud of you. Welcome.
Mary Shelley would celebrate this remake of her classic Frankenstein

BTW, have you seen the new economy cat carrier? Very handy and affordable.

Fred, you'll want to download some burger coupons. The minute I saw them, I knew they were for you!


Looking for the ideal vacation spot?

Lest we forget.
I'm going to retire for the evening.

I'm working hard at hardly working too.

Hope to keep a step ahead of you, poluting the gene pool as I go.
I have to go to bed, as I have to work tomorrow. I have to pour chlorine in the ever infected gene pools out there. Hopefully it will make them smarter and less whiney. Naw....that won't happen. Anyway; alas, alas, parting is such sweet sorrow.
Oh Fred, You want me up your back channel?
Okay I sent Anal the link and told her to come on down.
Tampy is hard at work on his novel, PUD.

You will see the first chapters posted on the links.
If you send me her address by email, I will invite her from the blog.
Tampy Darling! How are you sweet cheeks?
Okay I will write Anal.
I am exposed to expose myself.?
Yes. Expose yourself.

Also, let me know if you have some good flogging links.

I don't have Anal's address. Someone should write her.
Please don't but welcome nonetheless.
Do I wish to expose myself to all of you?
I am so confused
Did I see a post from our Tampy? Our beloved long lost Tampy...now we need Anal.
My early life began when I was quite young.

Like most American boys I enjoyed throwing rocks at cars and killing small animals.

The Fourth of July was always an exciting holiday becasue we could experiment with homemade incendiary devices and destroy woodland habitat.

Then I began to have funny feelings not like the other people I knew.

That was becasue I was responding to the rhythms of my own planet.

For instance, every year back home we have a festival called Hoowah where we do something very similar to the Donkey Dance.

And then their is the Tweedle Time where we attend to our Tweedles.

It's not easy being an adolescent from another planet stuck here on earth.

The surge of metahne in the atmosphere was caused by a huge Kucinich rally.

My dick is serene.

As for Birtles, he is icognito among the vast horde.

You need to make a personal appeal.

Holy shit! I've just realized that he whom I though to be Howard Hursey, a person of no account, is actually a world famous author and I've exposed my amature writing to his scrutiny. Quel chagrin!
That'll teach me to make any decisions while I'm sleepy!!!!
I think perhaps a course of ginko biloba for my tiny mind is in order.
Freddy, I'm sorry to have mistaken you for Mr. Hursey. I'll bet your dick used to be much bigger than Howie's.

Where is Birtles?
He's wanted.
What's the alternative?
I shall start to work on Pud 8 this weekend.
To my knowledge I've never eaten serial poisoned with Ladybugs.
Is it good?
A deeply moving story, Fred. I wondered about the origins of that potato bug infestion of '49. They say it was directly responsible for a surge of methane in the atmosphere. I won't pretend to any scientific knowledge, but this always seemed specious to me. What do you think?
They don't know the details of my birth...

My mother was high on anesthetics, the doctor was drunk and my father was in another room.

After that nothing much happened until the potato bug infestation of 1949.

I caused that.

My parents knew that space aliens don't like dogs, so they got me one when I was four.

I pretended to like it so they wouldn't catch on.

It's fun being the vanguard of the invasion and subjugation of earth by my planet.

Before we do anything else were going to force all of you to wear ugly bride's maids dresses and sing, "Don't Cry for Me Argentina."

That includes even the macho men like Tampy and Mare.

Need to go now...

Yours for a new tomorrow.


Mare, what is this your posting?

The formative years of a serial poisoner?

Bob, you're an administrator now.

Thursday, August 21, 2003

Never mind the teaser, Tamp. I've already downloaded a couple of chapters to read, which I am going to do right now.
Firewind? Oh! Firewind! Tampy's story site. What say, Tamp? How shall it read in the links?
Tampy, I've taken the liberty of editing your post. I've also given you admin status, so you can return the favor. Be gentle.

As for Pud , why don't you post a little teaser for us, something to tempt us to read on?

Fred, you're right. That link just blows my head up every time. Very useful, indeed. But I find no pathos in the bride's dresses. A signal of some deep lack in my soul no doubt.



I like the firewind concept.

How would you like the title to the link to read?

I think that the link on how to determine if your head is about to blow up is very useful.

Also there is a good deal of pathos in the archive of ugy bride's maids dresses.

So I suppose you all want to read the first 6 chapters of my Gay Romance spoof. It's called Pud and you can find it just by clicking on the title.

Chapter 7 is being edited by a very generous chum and will be posted soon.

Enjoy. Yes, I know it totally over the top. That the intention.


Tampington
You might want to suggest some links for out collection.

Welcome.

You can thank Mare for the location any time you want.

Fuckoff! I found me own way in.
Stoopid fucking thing blog isn't at all intuitive.
Where did you find this piece of shit??????

Oh yeah, nice to see ya.

Tamponus Magnificate
Last, just what we've been seeking to translate that foreign language those silly Brits speak.

Fred, help Tampy find his way into bollox. He's lost.

Good night, all.
I'm not so sure about that supper site. They are cruel to skunks.

Fred, your How to tell if your head's about to blow up link does not work.
Looking for something different for supper?

Among their collection, they offer a solution for those Mormon Crickets.

Hey, this is fun!
How about adding Cool French Comics?

Laughing Squid is worth consideration.

And of course we need Rush Limbaugh just to be fair and balanced.
I've also added the lyrics for "Don't Cry for Me Argetina."
Note the link to the Archive of the World's Ugliest Bride's Maids Dresses
Beguiling, that.

Please, Fred, explain to me how one gets a black eye while attempting fraud. All my attempts at fraud were peaceful events, even if singularly unrewarding.
Post Script: I love the description. You're inspired. Now it's your turn. Say something.
Tell people you assaulted yourself while attempting fraud.

I have added the Ashton Market webcam.

Good job, Fred! I am especially taken with the Mormon crickets. Another nice one along the same lines is this one on Potato Bugs. Did I ever tell you the story of how my brother decided to add a potato bug to his collection of butterflies? No? It's a grisly tale, not entirely appropriate to share with those who are insect phobic, so I'll have to tell you quick before Steve decides to amble over. But not right now. I'm sleepy.

The Comcast cable guy was here today to hook up one of the new tenants. I always check to see if he's accidently hooked up my B channels because they did that once and I had HGTV for about 8 months before they caught it and cut me off. So, to check, I leaned over the TV to switch the A/B box to B and in the process, I hit my cheekbone on a corner of the TV. I now have a huge swelling under my eye that is slowing turning very very red. Will I have a black eye? What will I tell people?
Why would you want to sleep your life away? There's so much to do and so little time to do it. We've got to change the world, doncha know?

Tampy may join us. Isn't that reason to rejoice?
This is like being in the Air Force.

Can I sleep before I report for duty?
Reading CalPundit, I note that each entry has many comments. His, SLOW NEWS DAY?....Has everyone gone nuts today? Let's start with the right. generated 74 comments, and I haven't even refreshed the page. Amazing!

How do we set it up so people can comment here? Do I have to pay for that? Should I?

Fred, where are you? Have you turned against us, too?
One cannot have too much information on Brown Root Disease.

I shall ask Grym, but I believe you are correct. The others have turned against us. Perhaps we have been too welcoming. People don't want to join groups that will have them as members.

Your description lacks spirit. Work on it.
I figured it out. Send me some links. You'll note I added a monograph on Brown Root Disease

I know how to do it. It's just going to take a while to figure out their controls.
Pell chakcer?

Ask Grym, but I think everyone has turned against us.
What about that Grym fellow? Should I invite him? He had some handy programming skills. He'd know how to insert Arts & Letters Daily into one of those empty links on our page. Or can you do it?
Fred! Quick. Do something to make the place attractive. Lure in our old crowd. With admin status comes admin responsibility. Use your talents constructively.

Hey, did you notice there's no spell checker?
Shall we make this blog private? I see that we can.
Oh! Correct that. You DO have admin status, Fred. Enjoy!
I'm not sure how this works, Fred. I tried to give you admin status and the program wouldn't let me. I may be the only one who can add members, too. There aren't as many choices as in our old program. Why don't you start a blog at Blogger just to see how it works? It's easy to cancel it if you don't want to keep it.
Sent several that could lead to several others.

Invitations to Bob, Olive, Kitty. Need addresses for GUB, Annalou, Melissa, what's his name...whoever.
Okay...

Don't forget Tampy
What grimy innuendo. I expected better of you, Willie. Spit and polish, indeed.
Whom to

send did

u invit

ations

Wow! That was fast, Fred.

I need current addresses for other bollox members.
Spit and polish, huh?

We are not using bollox. We are, if you'll look at the URL, using spitandpolish. Sorry. I had to use what came readily to mind. Of course, we can change any of it.
Now that we are all here...or are we? Roll call, please!
Make that -- If Bollox was taken...
What inuendo?
Check out bollox and Spillover. Sickening. We could put them to such better use.
Hah! I've done it! Created a home away from home.

I tried for bollox but it was taken. Who do you suppose has done that? I intend to find out.

Ironically, Spillover has been taken, too.

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?