Top Scientists Alarmed At Orlando Invasion Of Pod People

The rapid growth of terribly bland housing developments in the suburbs of Orlando is hiding a shocking secret that threatens biodiversity as we know it, according to a top-secret scientific study commissioned by an unnamed government agency. This insidious expansion of treeless developments with names like "Oak Forest" and "Cedar Estates" seems innocuous enough but is, in reality, merely a cover for the sinister Pod People.

Astonishingly, this near-silent invasion was predicted in a searing expose cleverly disguised as a science fiction movie called Invasion of the Body Snatchers, but was disregarded by a cheerfully complacent American public in the mid 1950s.

The disastrous result is that Orlando, Florida has now become the first city to be infiltrated by pods that have travelled from outer space to replicate and take the place of humans. Even with only "moderate" future growth of replicating Pod People, the average human population in the region could decrease by between forty and sixty percent by the year 2010, according to the classified Extraterrestrial Impact Assessment (EIA) report published by an international team of 300 researchers this week. According to one of the estimates used, the current population of Pod People could infiltrate the planet completely as early as 2020 unless something is done.

Life Cycle Of The Pod Person

The life cycle of the Pod Person consists of three stages: seed, larval pod, and adult human replicant. The larval pod is the most vulnerable stage, as it requires close proximity to a living human necessary for the next stage of the life cycle. After successful replication, the actual human is terminated so that the Pod Person may take over its new identity and mingle freely with the remainder of the population.

After replication the Pod Person resembles a typical, fine upstanding American, virtually indistinguishable from his neighbors. However, he or she has been sapped of emotional individuality and strives only to conform to a completely regimented society. They can occasionally be recognized by the following:

1. a bland suburban "home" in beige or taupe, which is surrounded for miles by identical homes in a gated or restricted community-- each with a perfectly green lawn that has been sprayed and fertilized into submission

2. one or more sports utility vehicles

3. matching clothing, generally in neutral tones, which may only belong to one of four or five approved designer brands

4. approved human activities and conversation topics limited strictly to work, golf/football, shopping and popular television shows

5. an overwhelming directive to consume conspicuously and then replicate


The Pod People assemble daily in a central location, where a loud speaker reads off the day's orders; additional commands are broadcasted subliminally and continuously from all television sets, which are required in each home. Neighboring humans who refuse to knuckle under to their directives and assimilate to what has been newly defined as the "American Way" will be replicated and terminated.

"We must resist the invaders and their attempts to erase humanity from the face of the earth," warned one top scientist. "It is important, because what is going on there is what will happen on the rest of the planet", he said, "but it may already be too late. Orlando is just the beginning."


* unidentified scientists examining larval Pod Person discovered recently in Orlando, Florida

No Time To Post!

No time to post today, so I will just throw some random crap out (again)

Hen produces "spoon-shaped" egg (wink wink)
The latest news from Mars
CDC Ebola Virus Outbreak Action Playset!
Poo Power!
Hamster-Powered Car
Loch Ness Monster Cam!
Virtual Stan
Museum of Bad Album Covers
Death Trivia
Giant microbes
Grover is bitter
farts, burps, crap, insults, Satan

a real post tomorrow-- I promise

Happy Easter, Yo!

A little holiday Silliness

Odd Art: Redux

I have been quite, quite busy lately; between attending various art shows and cattily chatting with fellow artists over mediocre Thai food, I have been unable to post as much as I would like. Today I am to leave for the fabulous cultural mecca that is Orlando, but I will be avoiding Disney World like the plague-- instead opting to mingle at my younger brother's birthday barbeque, which promises to be a fun-filled geekfest-- yay!

So I am lazily posting another example of Very Odd Art.

The Renaissance painting above depicts a chubby Cupid urinating cheerfully on a pasty white Venus languishing decoratively on the ground. This was painted by the obviously deranged Lorenzo Lotto sometime around 1540. Of course, any art historian will tell you that Lotto was utilizing various symbols of connubial bliss. However, they are clearly lying; he was really just a perv.

To best appreciate, one should click to enlarge.

Photos...

A friend of mine recently started setting up a site for some of his photos; he's snapped some interesting images at the Galapagos Islands, Alaska, the Everglades, the Amazon rainforest, Yellowstone, etc -- everything from alligator closeups to blue-footed boobies and randomly roaming bison.

The site is still under construction, but go ahead and take a peek at Phil's Nature Travel Page, especially if you would like to see what a Florida 'gator really looks like.

Other items of interest: piranha, an anaconda(!), giant lilypads, anhingas, marine iguanas...

What Do I Want To Be When I Grow Up?

After hours upon hours of staring at computer screens I am beginning to wonder: Shouldn't I be feeling just a teensy bit angsty over all this? Should I blithely continue to work for "The Man", whoever he is, or become embittered and horribly poor while pursuing the job of my dreams?

I've toyed with the idea of becoming a professionally starving artist, but I don't fill the chainsmoking and strange hair requirements; not only that, but have you ever tried locating an unheated garret? They're just not available these days. Plus, starving artists have to pick out some sort of vaguely fashionable persona. I can't decide between being a drugged-out- neo-pacifist- flaky-vegan starving artist or a pseudo-intellectual -nouveau-feminist- postmodern starving artist.

Now that "starving artist" has been discarded, just what sort of dream job should I choose? No one seems to pay very much for just sitting around eating berries and watching kung fu movies all day...

1. Exotic Balinese Dancer

Pros: This career path scores very high on the glam-o-meter, and I am definitely skinny enough to easily slither around a stage in adorable outfits.
Cons: I am not actually Balinese.

2. Magician's Assistant

Pros: This type of career would enable me to travel and meet a large variety of people while standing around and looking decorative.
Cons: I lose my head easily in stressful situations.

3. Carnival Ride Operator

Pros: While the monetary compensation is minimal, I would get all the funnel cakes and fried twinkies I could eat.
Cons: I have no tattoos.

4. Recreational Therapist for Psychiatric Hospital
Pros: I would feel personally fulfilled while dancing and playing games with patients to sharpen their cognitive and motor skills.
Cons: My own motor skills are actually not very good (**I flunked hopping on one foot in kindergarten), and I might be confused for one of the patients.

5. Pet Photographer

Pros: This career would enable me to develop my creativity and interpersonal skills while dressing small animals in charming little outfits.
Cons: I am deathly allergic.



** This actually happened; it was my very first 'F'

A Short Trip To The River

Over the weekend my family and I briefly popped on over to my great aunt's farewell dinner at Rainbow River in Dunellon, Florida. A few friendly bottles of wine were drunk, a lovely gravy was concocted, and many delicious buns were nibbled. Willie the Wonder Dog ferociously chased Koko the melodramatically diva-ish Siamese, but otherwise a terribly good time was had by all.

The Rainbow river is quite a lovely place to visit, despite the fact that it just sits there all day doing nothing in particular. My family and I have been going there to canoe, swim, fish, and tube ever since I can remember; occasionally we have also jumped out of trees, screamed hysterically over alligators and baked s'mores over coals.

I think it's actually one of the few beautiful spots left in Florida, which apparently is rather a problem.

The area hasn't been fully developed, so all those natural resources are, of course, going completely to waste. The timber, which could make useful things like pencils and salad bowls, just stands around holding up birds and moss all day. All that water could really be sold for a highly profitable $1.50 per bottle, so it tends to irritate people when it just sloshes around holding fish and things. The various animals constantly laze about napping, playing, and generally refusing to hold down a decent job or pay taxes; it's positively indecent the way they all just scamper around without any pants. Quite bothersome, you know.

But if you don't mind the lazy inefficiency and carelessly wasteful use of land, it's not a bad place to visit.

More Odd Art...

This portrait titled 'A Grotesque Old Woman' was painted in 1513 by the Flemish Renaissance painter Quintin Massys.

It remains one of my favorite examples of ugly art, although the artist definitely meant it that way. Enjoy.

O'Happy O'Belated St. Patrick's O'Day and Luck O' The Irish To Ye

Don't you just love festive toilet paper?

***

My friend Holly and I decided to celebrate St. Patrick's Day by drinking a certain quantity of wine and beer at a bar called Mad Dogs And Englishmen, which sounds horribly dangerous but isn't, really. The consumption of alcohol was for purely scientific reasons, of course, and was accomplished with a rather studious attention to detail and quality comparison. We determined that Guinness is good for you and that it tastes much better when actually drunk in Ireland, but that wine is also good for you and should be applied quite liberally when required.

You just can't be too careful these days.

As many know, the Tampa Bay area is just littered with fake pubs like this, usually with names like Something-O'Malley's or Finnegan's-Something-Or-Other. They're usually full of perky yuppies, Guinness, and Very Large Breasts, which frequently knock over innocent bystanders and cause rather unpleasant injuries.

We had a wonderful time, but perhaps should have gone with Steph and Anna to their little pub crawl in Dunedin; they hung out with muscly men wearing very short skirts and twirling fuzzy drumsticks. Holly and I saw absolutely NO men with short skirts and fuzzy drumsticks, which was quite disappointing.

She and I waxed nostalgic about our girlhoods and reminisced about her recent Elvis-filled nuptials, during which I was amazingly Stylish and wore an incredibly large hat. We discussed my upcoming trip to Graceland (I will dress up as Priscilla and my brother will dress as Elvis), the wonderful attractions to be found at the Liberace museum, and the charming qualities of the Flying Elvi. Many slices of non-delicious pizza were eaten, intoxicated Asian women were seen banging on doors, and only a very teensy tiny bit of alcohol was actually spilled.

Near the evening's end, an extremely tan young man came over to flirt with us a bit, but promptly ran away after Holly tipsily told him that I don't own a television.

And that was that.

Today the grocery stores are full of bright green loaves of bread, green cookies, horribly green bagels, and pale green cakes with green icing and green sprinkles. It all looks quite nasty.

???

I took a friend's advice and signed up for one of those online dating services where they match you with compatible people based on a questionnaire detailing lifestyle preferences, personality, etc.

Everyone I know on this thing has recieved multiple matches immediately, has continued to receive matches and has talked to at least one living person in the process. You should try it, blah blah blah, It's a great service, blah blah blah, You'll meets TONS of people, blah -- that's all I heard from various perky people who now have date-filled social calendars.

Apparently I failed the test, because I have recieved NO matches.

It's a bit disappointing, since I had my Date Questions and Are You Psycho quizzes all ready to go.

I suppose I shall have to go meditate on a mountaintop somewhere.

*****

ANYway, this post was terribly boring, so I'm throwing in a few items of interest:

Have You Been Abducted By Aliens?
Predict a Shag!
Make Your Own Lego Person
Evil Clown Generator
Cyborg Name Generator

Meetings Are The Opiate Of The Masses

Maybe if I start dressing like this I won't have to attend meetings anymore.

I've attended various status meetings, agenda meetings on previous status meetings, hurried lunch meetings about agenda meetings and status meetings regarding status meetings. Sometimes, when I'm bored I attend a meeting.

The first rule of thumb for holding a successful meeting is, of course, to avoid being the person who actually organizes it in the first place.

*** Additional guidelines ***

1. Make certain that the meeting is correctly entered into your calendar so that you can plan ahead and take the day off.

2. If you are unable to take the day off, call in sick.

3. If you are unable to call in sick, pay a coworker to phone or page you at the beginning of the meeting; look very worried, rush out the door and never come back.

4. If you cannot leave the meeting, plan ahead in case you fall asleep. You can pin to your shirt a doctor's note stating that you suffer from a rare form of narcolepsy. If you find that option to be too brazen, try painting a couple of staring eyes on the lens of your glasses so no one notices when you do nod off.

5. If all else fails, there are certain steps you can take to ensure that you are never invited to a meeting again:
* Loudly interrupt the organizer to say that you have now taken over the meeting and that the new agenda is to discuss the benefits of cheese.

* Begin an impromptu game of musical chairs and make certain that you are the one left without a chair.

* At the beginning of the meeting, collect everyone's agendas and shred them slowly into little bits. Shower everyone with confetti while singing "I Gotta Be Me!"

* Bring with you a pen that has run out of ink. Try to use it while growing progressively more agitated until bursting into tears and running out of the room.

* Start hyperventilating when anyone asks you a question and pretend to have a heart attack



*** Today's Pearl of Wisdom ***

"Meetings are an addictive, highly self-indulgent activity that corporations and other large organizations habitually engage in only because they cannot masturbate"
-- Dave Barry

Post Annihilation

It's really quite distressing, the heartless manner in which Blogger has completely annihilated my previous post.

I had returned from a lovely musical outing at the New World Brewery in Ybor City, during which my friend Maelyn and I drank yummy framboise and listened to Keith's band play very, very loudly. However, they were not nearly as loud as the stage-fright stricken punk band that followed. We spent the evening admiring tattoos, screaming "What! WHAT?! I can't HEAR you!", tipsily constructing a new sign language comprised partially of obscene gestures, and generally just sitting around waiting for our ears to fall off.

Needless to say... it was inspiring.

So I trickled home and wrote the most incredibly moving and wonderfully fascinating post.

It was an oddly beautiful, yet compellingly written essay that would have been the most influential piece of writing during the twenty-first century. In it, I outlined my comprehensive (yet practical) plan for lasting world peace and the foundation for a better tomorrow. Gone would have been the fear of nuclear destruction, the dread of terrorism, the trepidation over border skirmishes and the angst over reading such dreadfully dull treaties. The solution defined was simple, easily managed and cost-effective for everyone concerned. Academics and politicians would have praised its emotional vibrancy and eloquent significance.

I would have been granted the Nobel prizes for Peace and Literature during lovely champagne-filled ceremonies on a mountaintop in Switzerland; exciting balloon-filled parades would have been held in my honor, and small children would have flung flowers and cookies at me wherever I went. The mayor would have given me the key to the city, and Johnny Depp would have finally realized that I was truly the love of his life, later whisking me away to a lovely chalet filled with books and masseuses.

It was that good.

However, I regret to inform you that I can't really remember it, unfortunately-- and it's all Blogger's fault.

 

Cajun Fest

Blogger has been driving me crazy; posting wasn't working (I lost a post); comments weren't working... argh!

***

Yesterday this charming young girl-about-town trotted on over to St. Petersburg to enjoy the Fifth annual Cajun/Zydeco Crawfish Festival with a couple of friends. Various vendors displayed a variety of traditional Cajun cuisine such as crawfish étouffée, fried alligator, seafood gumbo, corn-on-the-cob and beignets, which exist solely to cover everyone's faces with powdered sugar and grease. Other traditional cajun dishes available were deep-fried twinkies, strawberry shortcake, pizza, french fries and lemonade.

As we wandered through hordes of senior citizens, who outnumber us by at least 30 to 1 in St. Petersburg, we perused the items offered by traditional cajun vendors. I admired the $19.99 crushable hats, oohed an ahhed over the traditional cajun wonder flashlights and carefully studied the benefits of a cajun Hawaiian shirt, the traditional cajun suspenders, the cajun key chains and the New Orleans-style flip flops. I feel that I now truly appreciate the benefits of this unique and fascinating culture.

I have to say that the band was full of yummy zydeco goodness, which forced me to shake my booty in an alarming manner all over the place. I danced a little cajun swing with a short bearded gentleman who was quite good and twirled me around until I was dizzy. I also danced a little something-or-other with an elderly gentleman who was not very good at all and squished my adorable toes into less than adorable pulp.

I tried, I really did, to learn actual zydeco dancing (which involves an eight count), but may have destroyed my partner's sanity as well as his knees.

Saw tons of really good dancers flinging and flailing various body parts around, which was great fun. Beads were tossed, decorative umbrellas were swished around, and several couples even did an old-fashioned cakewalk.

This is it for now. I won't post anything longer, just in case Blogger eats it.

I Dislike Long Hallways And Being Damp

I really have nothing interesting to say.

The weather is spitting a nasty sort of chilled rain at us to-day; it shows no sign of quitting, so the cockroaches and alligators have been lining up two by two, and my deranged neighbor has been shaking his fist balefully at the sky. However, I was a rock and courageously sloshed my way into work this morning, exchanging polite sneezes and coughs with my fellow nerds and dragging my pathetically broken umbrella behind me.

Luckily, I was not carried off in the torrential floodwaters; however I am still damp, which is very unpleasant and could lead to a rather deadly case of pneumonia. And languishing consumptively on a divan sounds rather tiresome, no matter how palely tragic and delicately interesting it would make me look...

Another problem with this sort of weather is that it encourages people to loiter irresponsibly inside buildings during lunchtime. So whenever I start walking down a long hallway, someone else is always walking through from the other end-- which is generally rather awkward and fraught with difficulty.

How do you know how soon to smile at the other person in this sort of situation? I've discovered that smiling too soon makes you look quite idiotic, as it could be some time before getting close enough to say hello to the other person; and then your cheek muscles ache. Plus, the other person could think that you're socially inept, which I am, or that you are flirting excessively, which I sometimes am as well.

On the other hand, you just can't keep walking and staring at someone without smiling; and it's tricky to just sort of generally look around at the scenery and pretend that you don't see the other person until the very last minute. You really have to time it just right.

I could carry a book around with me and start reading whenever I walk around the building, but then I will collide with walls and things. Or perhaps I could just wear dark sunglasses and pretend that I'm blind; but where do blind people find those white canes? It's not like I can just run out and find a guide dog...

My life is FULL of these horrible problems.

********

How cool is this !? I really need one of my very own!

Wagenschenke!

If you're bored, here's a game you can play with a drunken little man.
(You have to keep repositioning your cursor, which you won't be able to see, to keep him walking in a straight line. The best I could do was 76 meters)

Master of the Flying Guillotine!

The epitome of a "Feel Good" classic, Master of the Flying Guillotine will make you laugh, cry, and look at humanity in a whole new way. Feel the heartbreaking pathos of the one armed boxer's fight for freedom! Sob tears of joy as Iron Skin Niu Sze uses his secret animal fighting technique against Tornado Knives Lei Kuang! Your soul will soar in ecstasies of intense emotion with each explosion and swinging sword.

This movie will change your life.

You Just Can't Have Too Many Ninjas...

Almost my entire weekend consisted of watching movies and producing large quantities of snot; if I could figure out a way to successfully market the stuff, I could make a fortune. However, I now feel like a complete sissy after hearing about Claypot's malaria. Yikes!

The movies consisted mainly of schlocky horror classics like Satan's School for Girls (yeah!) and 1970s kung fu flicks like Master of the Flying Guillotine, which Amazon.com strongly advises me to purchase together with the Five Fingers of Death.

Master of the Flying Guillotine (a.ka. One Armed Boxer vs. The Flying Guillotine) is really a wonderful movie; everyone in it has such luxurious hair, bizarre weapons of destruction, secret animal fighting techniques and names like Braised Hair Cheung Shung Vee or Monkey Boxer Ma Wa Kung. It's one of those revenge- gain- honor- for- the- temple flicks, only they add a few explosions here and there. It's a beautiful work of art, and I love it so much I want to marry it. We could make such beautiful children together...

After watching it for the second time, I've come to realize just how many other films could be improved by adding a few kung fu fight scenes, or better yet-- ninjas! Because you just can't have too many ninjas....


*** REALLY Annoying Movies That Could Use a Few Ninjas ***

1. An Affair To Remember: this sappy love classic is perfect for those who want to commit suicide by drowning in a drippy, soupy mass of treacle. However, if they added a few knife-wielding ninjas to the tearful- wheelchair- true- love- reunion scene, I promise I'll watch it again...

2. Fair Game: In this pile of suspense-thriller garbage, Cindy Crawford's acting is the worst I've ever seen; she maintains the same expression on her face at all times, whether she is awkwardly running from an explosion in tiny clothes or woodenly slobbering over her co-star. Her mole is more talented at emoting than she is. But think of how much better it would be if Cindy were killed off early on by ninjas! The rest of the movie would be full of ninjas dodging bullets, screaming like little girls, running from explosions and trying to make out with William Baldwin.... I'd watch that in a heartbeat.

3. Glitter: Mariah Carey's ego film trip to hell... need I explain this one? If only they'd replaced Mariah with a fashionably clad singing ninja, the movie would have been SO much better. You could show the ninja getting into all sorts of exciting fights in a mad rush from rags to riches in New York City, fast-tracking to the pinnacle of glitzy stardom and spangly hot pants. But as the fists fly and blades swing, will the ninja remember the "little people" left behind back in the 'hood? That might be worth a couple of dollars.

4. House of the Dead: hands down the worst movie EVER made, House of the Dead is, um, based on the video game of the same name. If you just took a few ninjas and.... no, I take that back. Not even ninjas can save this one.


I'd better quit now. I'm still horribly cranky.

Ugly Art!

I am feeling a bit better, but am going to bed early. I will be back to the usual schedule tomorrow. Until then, I will be lazy and leave you with another installment of my series on ugly art: a diseased-looking religious icon attributed to Duccio di Buoninsegna. (click to enlarge in order to best appreciate)

I love Tylenol flu gelcaps 

I Am A Very Sick Person

Having begun the day with the following symptoms, I decided to run a little online self-diagnosis after leaving work early; the doctor cannot see me until Friday morning.
1. severely sore throat and trouble swallowing
2. moderate neck pain with stiffness as well as upper back pain
3. headaches and fever
4. huge quantities of snot and sneezing every five minutes
5. eyeballs that feel as if they are shooting flames
6. general crankiness

The first site I tried diagnosed me as having one or all of the following:
ovarian torsion
appendicitis
ectopic pregnancy
It advised me quite strongly: "You should see your doctor immediately"

I was a bit bemused since pregnancy is, quite frankly, physically impossible as I have been single for quite some time. However if I am informed otherwise, someone will need to alert the Vatican, because it will mean that I am bearing the AntiChrist, and the Apocalypse is coming. Which means, of course, that you should all start stockpiling toilet paper and canned goods immediately. In these circumstances, one could use the following handy letter. (thanks to Dayna for the link)

The second site I tried listed all of the following as being possible causes of my distress:
diptheria
salivary gland tumor
ramula cyst
dermoids
pneumonia
pulmonary emboli
pleuritis
streptococcal phayrngitis
peritonsillar abscess
viral phayrngitis
tonsillitis
sinusitis
rhinitis
meningitis
osteomylitis

I'd advise everyone to not try this at home, or you may find yourself with a terrible case of Ebola or flesh-eating bacteria....

****************************
Coming Soon to Random_Speak: Bimbo Economics!

I'm going back to bed now.

This scene of Damned Souls trapped at the Department of Motor Vehicles is taken from a fresco in the chapel of San Brizio in Orvieto 

My Not-So-Divine Comedy

On Monday I became lost in a metaphorical Dark Wood as I attempted to cope with the late car registration/ imaginary accident debacle.

I awoke before dawn to prepare my troubled spirit and was met by the spirit of Virgil my Aunt the Golf Fiend, who was to lead me on my journey towards hot coffee, salvation and an unsuspended driver's license...

8:00 a.m.
We stepped gingerly through infernal puddles and arrived at the first circle of Hell, which is the office of the Clerk of the Circuit Court, or Limbo. Sitting mournfully in filth encrusted chairs, we heard voices of suffering and despair that made us weep. Hollow-eyed and gaunt, the melancholy figures of our fellow doomed mortals filled the room with anguished laments as they were tormented by wasps, flies and worms.

8:30 a.m.
Charon the ferryman had taken a well-deserved vacation day, so a demonic bureaucrat named Beth helpfully informed me that I would need to pay my old late registration fine for the second time, since the system was incorrectly showing that I hadn't paid it. She could not correct this due to system problems, although I could "return another time to get reimbursed".

9:00 a.m.
Beth disappeared into the bowels of the office, from which we could hear demonic laughter and screams. Sulphuric exhalations wafted through the air.

10:00 a.m.
Beth returned and helpfully informed me that I could not pay the new fine resulting from the old fine, because the ticket was incorrect. She could not correct this due to system problems and told me to keep calling the office for a few days until they told me to return. Maniacal laughter drifted faintly behind her.

10:30 a.m.
Beth disappeared to consult with the head demon. Tortured cries pierced the air as hapless souls were dragged away to an eternity of damnation and torment.

11:00 a.m.
Beth returned and informed me that she could not remove the non-existent accident from my record, so I would need to enter the fourth circle of Hell, or the Department of Motor Vehicles.

11:30 a.m.
We entered the second circle of Hell, or the Traffic Records Office, where the slothful and sullen are left to bewail their Fate, tormented by cold mud and ennui. I sullenly waited to re-register my car, surrounded by the baleful gaze of lesser demons.

1:30 p.m.
After visiting Purgatory (Bank of America) to pull old statements for proof of last year's payment, we took a wrong turn and arrived at the third circle of Hell, or the Florida Highway Patrol office, which exuded poisonous fumes and other gaseous exhalations.

2:00 p.m.
After following the directions from the FHP, we arrived at the fourth, and final, circle of Hell-- The Florida Department of Motor Vehicles, which is designated by the ominous sign: "Abandon hope, ye who enter here." Here the atmosphere was truly chilling, as the howling of delinquent children and other damned souls filled the air. There were those who had been there for years, unkempt with matted hair and beards, fingernails so long they curled under, and wild eyes that darted constantly around the room.

Here were the wrathful, the gluttonous, the lustful, the violent, the fraudulent, the blasphemers, usurers and traitors -- all trapped in the same satanic bureaucracy. Security guards shot with red-hot arrows any who tried to escape the wrath of the DMV.

They informed me that they could not help beyond revoking the suspension on my license, so I will need to go to court to untangle the remainder of the mess.

5:00 p.m.
I arrived home and went to sleep, exhausted by my Sisyphean ordeal.

Actual Searches People Have Used To Find My Blog(s)-- Part II

bird is flying and freezes solid, then a cow craps
photos of female rollerskaters
topless at the dry tortugas
fake decorative mangroves
spelling nookie
I/O error "clink noise"
photos of beakless chickens
freak ranks
did barry manilow file bankruptcy
ogling
nooky songs
cult objects bettie
"i'm an individual you can't fool me"
examples strange cultural customs
enema art
identifying witches in 1692
fair funnel cake calories
Seagulls noses costumes
victorian mummy unwrapping party
hatebeak
limericks


Perhaps I need to start creating less freakish posts or something.... but not until I've described my trip through Dante's inferno... Coming Soon.