I had it on the old place, but nobody seemed to be able to work it out due to my mystifying deception of attaching it to an icon of a letter with an ALT tag of "e-mail me"...
I haven't bothered fiddling with the profile, or putting on this goof-ass iteration of the blog, but it's redtory@shaw.ca.
Yikes! I thought you were going to launch into some Vogon poetry there...
The dead swans lay in the stagnant pool. They lay. They rotted. They turned Around occassionally. Bits of flesh dropped off them from Time to time. And sank into the pool's mire. They also smelt a great deal.
Oh no, wait... that's by Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings of Greenbridge, Essex.
Here we go:
See, see the dead sky Marvel at its big fuschia depths. Tell me, PSA do you Wonder why the beaver ignores you? Why its foobly stare makes you feel groggy. I can tell you, it is Worried by your pulchritudinous facial growth That looks like A ham. What's more, it knows Your blatherskite's potting shed Smells of mold. Everything under the big dead sky Asks why, why do you even bother? You only charm sheep's bottoms.
dunno what's keeping that sheet in pace, but, outta sheer gratitude, i'm willing to credit divine intervention.
ReplyDeleteps, couldn't you have pixelated his nips? like friggin' bing cherries....
KEvron
ps, speaking of cherries: "cunt". there, it's popped.
Funny thing... I quite deliberately made his nips teeny-tiny little nubs on purpose as being symbolic of his spiritual parsimony.
ReplyDeleteI did not need to see this... groan! What to do what to do what to do.
ReplyDeleteThat is beautiful.
ReplyDeleteWait - let me rephrase.
Hideous.
Ikes. I can has memory blackout?
Cräbgräšš — Yes u canz!
ReplyDeleteWWC — Frank — I think that this might be the most appropriate reaction.
ReplyDeleteRT, how do I find your email address? I had it before, and I know I should be able to figger this out, but there's an idiot element at play here.
ReplyDeleteI had it on the old place, but nobody seemed to be able to work it out due to my mystifying deception of attaching it to an icon of a letter with an ALT tag of "e-mail me"...
ReplyDeleteI haven't bothered fiddling with the profile, or putting on this goof-ass iteration of the blog, but it's redtory@shaw.ca.
"WWC — Frank — I think that this might be the most appropriate reaction. "
ReplyDeleteLOL really!
Indeed. The Power of Nightmares... I'm getting to that in due course. Lovely how everything links up quite serendipitously, isn't it? ;)
ReplyDeleteparp! gnad florkin' yeek. that's so...so...glebbish
ReplyDeleteno there really aren't any words.
Yikes! I thought you were going to launch into some Vogon poetry there...
ReplyDeleteThe dead swans lay in the stagnant pool.
They lay. They rotted. They turned
Around occassionally.
Bits of flesh dropped off them from
Time to time.
And sank into the pool's mire.
They also smelt a great deal.
Oh no, wait... that's by Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings of Greenbridge, Essex.
Here we go:
See, see the dead sky
Marvel at its big fuschia depths.
Tell me, PSA do you
Wonder why the beaver ignores you?
Why its foobly stare
makes you feel groggy.
I can tell you, it is
Worried by your pulchritudinous facial growth
That looks like
A ham.
What's more, it knows
Your blatherskite's potting shed
Smells of mold.
Everything under the big dead sky
Asks why, why do you even bother?
You only charm sheep's bottoms.
i can't look away yet i must...
ReplyDelete