Ordered by most used:
people time pretty fucking mean moff didn little feel actually numbersixspeaks shit maybe love friends night dorothymantooth yeah wrong personBanks were up 15% this morning. Then they weren’t. Then Wells announces a dilutive share offering after close.
Does anyone work at the fucking SEC or what?
They have boats?
Mike Skinner of the Streets tackles swine flu.
I mean, I know there are a lot of mind-bogglingly stupid comments out there. I’m diggin’ this one, though, maybe because the range of voices from both extremes of the political spectrum combines with the basic inability to write properly to create the effect of twenty-four (at present) mentally ill people wandering around an empty gymnasium, hollering at the ceiling. I hope no one adds to it, because KevRock’s all-caps missive seems to me to be a rather perfect closing note.
Wife: The Nebula Awards are out.
Me: Oh, sweet. Did I win one?
Wife: No, but Ursula Le Guin won Best Novel.
Me: [Makes angry hissing noise] As if she needs that.
Damn.
When I saw him in 2005 or 2006, the set list was miserable—every time they got some momentum going with a classic, they’d immediately shut it down by following up with a new song that no one had heard, or worse, a six-minute solo by one of the three guitarists present—but Axl himself was an incredible performer. As strong as when they were touring for Use Your Illusion, easily, even with the weird dreads.
Traci Lords raps as she works out.
Dear Chuffed,
Thank you. This made me do some thinking about it, and I don’t know where the hell my women-working-out fetish came from, but I do know that, tonight, I love you.
Yours,
Moff
DUDE WE STOPPED DRINKING BOOZE IN THE HOUSE (UNLESS THERE ARE GUESTS OVER) AND I KNOW IT SOUNDS PUSSY BUT I FEEL AWESOME.
Lotta qualifiers in there, dude. But if you feel awesome, cheers to that! (Just not in the house. Do you have a garage?)
No, we do not have a garage.
And we do have almost no friends here. So I bet we have gone from drinking four or five nights a week to one night every week and a half.
And yes, I do feel gloriously smug, because that is one of my top three favorite emotions.
Oh, America. Are we really this jaded? So ceaselessly hip and blasé? And eager to judge every single thing that passes in front of our bleary eyes?
I remember a simpler time, before irony and hyperreality dictated our every decision. A time when we would give a war a chance to be a war. Because who knows? The Next War could be a battle against centaurs and Cyclopes! A skirmish with demons and fallen angels! A scuffle against robots and Predator drones in the very name of God himself!
But probably it’ll just be against people who aren’t white.
