Tuesday, September 28, 2004

No, Where The Hell Have You Been?

Since my steady readership has grown from three to roughly a dozen, I feel that I owe an apology for not blogging the last few days.

Now, I could be truthful and say that this weekend was an important one in the RETARDOworld, and add that I had to go to the farm for a few days as well, but, in taking a page from the recognised Masters, why should I tell the truth when it's much more fun to lie out my ass?

So, yeah... that's the ticket.

I was, uhh, at a blogging convention. Of course, it was held at a top secret location; of course, only lefty bloggers were invited (the Legion of Frum and their fuckin Darth Vader helmet-looking spaceship are mortal enemies and need not apply).

Many of us attended. Progress was made. The catering was atrocious. Yes, someone took pictures: of me, General Glut, Ms S.Z. of World O'Crap, Roy of alicublog, TBOGG, Sully (foreground; and no, I don't know who invited him), Pete M. Window (posing here, Atrios to the right), Norbizness, and even the entertaining but deeply troubled Dr. Sebly F. No graced us with his presence until he started to do things with ping-pong balls that taste forbids me to describe in greater detail.

Yes, the entities of Fafblog "were" also "there". Others chipped-in their two cents, of course, but I'm running past deadline and so cant be expected to post pictures of everyone, though I will say that everyone is a superhero as well as one of Jesus's sweet sunbeams. But you knew that.

Anyway, what did we discuss and decide? Well, it goes without saying that the dialogue was shrill; it also goes without saying that I must keep much of it secret. But we did decide to persue further action on one front.

Forthwith, in the interest of saving precious bytes, not to mention the already atrophied American attention span, let the awful rightwing parents who commodify their children hereby establish a peer-to-peer network based on the "Gnatella" platform, thus facilitating a quick exchange of anonymous, blonde, completely imaginary kiddies via whom and with which these 'wingers can manufacture "whimsical" -- and massively implausible -- stories that without fail miraculously conform to the Ideal Republican Worldview.

This would solve a multitude of problems. For one, it would prevent the apparently real children from commiting matricide and/or patricide when they are grown enough to realise how they've been made pawns to an agenda, not to mention to creatively-bereft pundit-parents. I must admit that this benefit was seriously debated by our group, on the grounds that even though the childrens' dignity is something to be protected, who are we to intefere with what their (just) reactions would be ...?

For another, it would make it so that the fake children would have a back-story instantly known by all, readers and writers alike, therefore saving valuable time of both by allowing the author to get on with the ideological lecture, instead of burning up precious brain cells in creating the verisimilitude upon which fake anecdotes are founded.

We voted on the motion. The ayes won. There was much rejoicing. Norbizness said "enuk-chuck" and instantly added fifty feet to his height. I swear that several didn't hide the fact that they then stared up under his loincloth. Seb did the ping-pong thing. Fafnir transformed into a purple moose while Giblets became a giant ice dildo. Roy and I then commenced to rock the place to its foundations, 'cause we're cool like that. Yeah.

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