Wednesday, October 13, 2004


Yeah, we've heard all the excuses, haven't we? Job interviews, technical difficulties, logistical problems, broken limbs, flaming tongue fungus, jungle rot, crotch weasels, catarrh, cauliflower fingers, intestinal warts, pancreatic splooge, uncontrollable falling know the litany.

But the fact of the matter is that our sworn enemies dear friends Pete Window and Dr. Sebly F. No haven't been entirely candid with us. The real reasons are the usual: Sebly with an ice pack on his crotch and a tennis ball in his mouth, physically exhausted from his latest tryst with that insatiable minx Amber Pawlik. As for Pete, it's S.O.S. with him too: garden variety carpal tunnel syndrome from his tantric masturbation typing technique.

Bah! Tell them we are fed up. We need daily entries that obliterate the most exciting conservative writers of our times!

When we don't get daily wingnut destruction, it hurts us. Pardon us, but we thought that the only person who wished us harm was Brian Cherry, whose "literary sticks" pack all the wallop of a dryrotted whiffleball bat. Does this mean they have joined the Brian Cherry legion? The very thought makes me tear-up, readers!

But, after drying my eyes, inspiration hits me. I have a plan...

In the purest anti-Randian altruism, I, your humble blogger, shall formally offer to sacrifice myself for the common good. Yes I, Retardo Montalban, at an appropriate time, will write an entry or entries as a wingnut, with the hope that my wingnuttery will be so compelling that it will have the effect of forcing Sebly and Pete into resuming what is, after all, their freakin' duty.

Please, control your collective gasping, and someone do try to revive the lovely lady in the front row who has fainted. I will be brave. I'm not afraid. I only regret that I have but one life to give for the blogosphere. This is the last of earth; I am composed.