Tuesday, January 31, 2006
It Puts the Lotion in the Basket.
Well, I've recieved identical comments for two of my previous posts. They were left by different people. Here's what they both said: "I read over your blog, and i found it inquisitive, you may find my blog interesting... So please Click Here To Read My Blog." So let us discuss what was said (I'm speaking through my clenched teeth). The second pronoun "I," is typed in it's lower case form. This usually doesn't bother me. For I realize that sometimes people are in a hurry and they just want to share a small afterthought with me. Fine. Next we find the adjective "inquisitive," describing this blog. Ok, I'll bite. I suppose that some may read a few of my posts and find them vying some of lifes idiosyncracies. But to say that the entire system of writing, that is mine, bears an inquisitive nature is a bit of a stretch. And then we come to the comma splice. *utters a sigh of grief* Based on the structural and grammatical atrocity of this sentence... somebody is bull-shitting. I hate bull-shit. It's a waste of my time and the methane produced, further destroys the layer of ozone surrounding our beloved earth. That's what gives all those poor Aussies skin-cancer. There ain't no coming back from that shit. It's like... your neighbor vacations in Australia. And your all excited that she's returned. And you say to her one day in the yard, "Hey Judy! Whadya bring me from the land of the didgeridoo?" And she says, "Skin-cancer." And then she bursts into tears and screams, "Why, God! Why have you forsaken me!?! Ahuh-huh-huh... I was a good girl! I never bull-shited anybody in my life!" And later that night... she eats a bottle of rat poison and slowly dies to the smooth jazz of Kenny G... timing her bouts of vomiting to his crappy sax. And her four year old child can't reach the stereo to turn off Kenny G. And so, he finds mommy's 45 in her naughty draw. And he puts one right between his cute little eyes. Because listening to Kenny G isn't worse than death... but it's close. Why would anyone wish that on Judy and little Enoch? I'm not sure. But maybe it's because they're bastards... or Kenny G. After all, fat-lady suits are hard to find.