As I was debating the various

Legal and ethical arguments around cloning (of which, I am staunchly anti-clone btw) and I saw two angels standing at the ticket machine in the subway-station.

This, I thought, was unusual.

One ran up to put money in the thing, while the other stood with an absolutely massive bouquet of balloons. Maybe 25-30 of 'em, floating gently about eight feet above her wings. It wasn't just that the angels were in yer typical angel costume, it was the talcum powdery color of their skin, that made me take a second look.

Anyways, since the one with the balloons didn't come over straight away to me and thrust the mass out at me, I realized, they weren't my angels, they were someone elses. (and don't think the fact that they were taking the train made me wonder if they were even real angels...after all, wouldn't a really good angel take the most responsible of all transportation - public transportation?) Now, I didn't so much as get jealous, as wonder, was there anyone out there trying to clone Angels!?

Being an inventive race of humanids, I'm sure we've nabbed a few (perhaps in the deep Pentagon Dungeons of the Special & Magical Creature Detention Facility) where they reside in anti-magic/holy power containment fields, next to Leprechauns and Unicorns and 3-headed Hell Dogs...all awaiting the same terrible fate...Weponization. But anyways, I digress. Apart from the difficulties in the basic genetic structure of these wondrous creatures that resists weaponization, I think there'd be a pretty big market for your standard Angel. Of course, there's probably a stigma that goes along with a cloned Angel. I mean, standard angel magic is one thing, but would you be 100% trustful of some Clone Angel Magic? It'd be like your car was falling off the edge of the cliff, and you go,

"Hey angel - make with the flying car routine!" You'd say. And the little Angel waves her wand or whatever and the car stops falling towards those jagged rocks, and instead, starts crossing the deep chasm. Whereupon, some slight defect (undetected by the boys at the lab, or Inspector 12 - who's paper slip was found in the bottom of the box that shipped your Angel via FedEx) in it's magical genetic makeup, causes your car to then turn into a giant colander - with holes just the right size for letting humans slip through. And you do.

I think that's the problem with cloned angels. (and Leprechauns and Unicorns, and 3-headed hell hounds) people just wouldn't quite trust them to come through in a pinch. Course, if they were really really cheap, I'm pretty sure I'd pick up a couple.

Maybe I'm not so staunchly anti-clone after all.

Monday

Hello fellow uber-hot Fjordlings!

Tonight, I've got to turn my fjormidable powers towards another project (that must get done tonite) and laundry.

And maybe, just maybe, I'll start a renaissance.

Yeah..just one more weekend thing...

Then I'm done.

See, I posted about this a while ago, and not just cause I thought it was cool. If you'll bother to enlarge the photo's you can see, it's an amazing invention. In fact, most likely, the most powerful scientific sensor we, as humans have ever created to figger out anything. It's the CERN - (jeebus, thanks again to the kids over at B.B. for the help...I spend too much time over there) the Large Hadron Collider, and, I'm convinced that (If we over at the W.C.B. of Fjord continue our efforts for another year or so) many new posts will be inspired by what this device reveals. I'm a huge fan...and would just like to let you know, right now, that before all the shit this thing is going to do is on the nightly news...you read about it here.

On. Channel. Fjord.

(more than many apologies for the numerous ellipses...I'll use less in the future...promise.)

More cool things...

Just found this over at B.B.

Checkit.

Yaaay! Yaaay! Huzzah!

My kickass band Apartment Rock - has just released it's new record. It's a double-disk, called Expansive Pad. You'll have to look for it OVER HERE

P.S. - Let it be known, I am working my ass off to entertain you.

BOOOO! Booo! boooooooo!

I'm sad, and dissapointed. Sony's discontinued production and development of the Aibo robot dog. I don't know why, cause ever since I saw one of these cute little robo-critters doing a little dance on the subway platform, I totally wanted to get one. I suppose it was probably the price - at about 2-grand a pop, it was just too far out of reach for most normal robot lovers.

Anyways, the guys over at We Make Money Not Art have a few more things to say if you're interested.

Man...I used to pretty much think Sony was the shit. But then they went and did that whole DRM thing with their C.D.'s, and now THIS!

We all knew the end of the world was coming...but now we have to face it without robot dogs?

This one kinda' snuck up on me

"snuck" is a very nijce looking word, if I do say so myself.

I was also looking through some old email today, and found I'd made the typo trying to write the word "don't" and instead wrote, "donk." Which is also a very nice word.

Thought I'd share.

Now...there's this post...

INT: ROOM
The teevee babbles in the background. "Tired of normal breakfast cereals? Then try Fjord-Flakes! They're made of three kinds of grain, formed with a tasty center where milk can..."
"Shut it off!" Shouts Wednesday. "I'm so sick of how those guys sold totally out."
"What?" Asks Thursday.
"Those guys at Fjord. They used to be cool." finished Wednesday moving over to manually hit the power button on the teevee.
"Still are if you ask me." Monday said.
"Oh yeah?" Wednesday fumed, "What about "Fjord-Flakes? Fjord-Curtains? Fjord-Sheets? What was the catchphrase for that one - oh yeah - 'Keep the barfly you picked up last night from sleeping too close to you.' The Ford Fjord? Man, whatta hunka' shit! The Fjord Valentine - 'Fjords help keep hearts together' I mean What The FUCK! They've sold out to everything and anything they could."
"You've got a point." Said Tuesday. "But..."

Whatever he was about to say, was lost forever as the door opened with a crash! A massive Chinese dragon costume entered, and as the door smashed to the wall, the sound of symbols and drums rang out. The dragon moved closer to the Weekdays, it was obvious, it was a very large dragon costume. Eight pairs of legs stuck out of the bottom of the dragon, and the whole thing wasn't yet in the door. The dragon's face stuck it's head at Wednesday, who staggered back.

The dragon moved around as the rest of it moved into the room. It stared each of the weekdays in the face, as the rest of the sixteen pairs of legs followed it around. Then, after the dragon had pointed it's face at Thursday - the drums and symbols stopped on a dime. Then Friday took the dragon's head off, and pointed it at himself.

"There! We're ready."
"Ready for what?" Asked Monday.
"For the Chinese New Year. It's tomorrow!"
"What?" Said Thursday.
"It's the year of the Dog!" Said Friday, "And not only that, I think...well, judging from what my astrologer just said, I think it's going to be a Fire Dog! How cool is that!?"
"Well not really..." Began Tuesday.
"Oh what the fjuck do you know? You're sitting here wondering what you're going to do tonight, after just barely mustering up the energy to turn off the gjoddamn teevee. You were just talking about what?"
"How those Fjord guys sold out."
"Fjordguys! You know...you know I consider Tsunami a friend of mine, and it's going to be his year. I for one am going out and celebrating the year of the Fire Dog."
"It's not really the new year...that already happened." Mumbled Thursday.
Friday looked over. "Yeah, and the Chinese had a civilization about three-thousand years before Rome was even a pimple on a map. Now, if I knew all of you would be so gjoddamn gloomy about the idea of celebrating, I wouldn't have gotten sixteen guys to run this dragon costume, and a bunch of drummers and cymbal-playing guys to come out tonight. Or, maybe I would have, and just wouldn't have come over here!"

"I'll celebrate with ya." Said Monday, getting up from the couch.
"I ain't doin' nothin'." Tuesday mumbled, and got up himself.

Outside there was a clash of cymbal hitting the sidewalk, and crazy warning shouts. Suddenly, men ran in from outside. The put down their instruments, and adopted martial-arts postures.

"What?" Asked Friday.
"Ninja!" Shouted a drummer.

Friday dropped the dragon-head, and looked out. "Ahh, the Japanese, traditional enemy of the Chinese."
Then a cymbal player flew through the room backwards, and came to rest unconscious against the couch. A flurry of sounds entered through the door. Then the remaining musicians fell back into the room. The last cymbal player was busy using his instruments to fend off throwing stars that rang off with loud clangs.
"I hate Ninjas" Said Thursday getting up.

And with that, the twenty-or-so occupants of the room were confronted with a likewise number of pajama-clad foes. A massive hand-to-hand combat broke out! A drummer used a big drum as a shield to stop three throwing-stars coming towards Wednesday! A Ninja cut down a hapless dragon-costumed fellow, before he came across another cymbal player, who deftly blocked a samurai-sword with his copper shields. Fists flew, kicks lashed out, strange objects were used as weapons. A telephone handset cracked a ninja on the head - a remote control was jammed into and down another ninja's mouth - a set of keys ripped off a nose - A back issue of Vanity-Fair was rolled up and shoved into another's eye! Tables broke, eazy-chairs were thrown, a cymbal came out of nowhere to slice across a throat. A jar full of pennies smashed across another's head.

The Weekdays were not idle while all this went down. Tuesday had grabbed the phone and used it's cord to begin strangling one, until another came to his help, a sword swinging down. Tuesday spun the strangling Ninja at the other like a shield. It worked. Not so well for the near-strangled Ninja, but still. On the other side of the room, Friday fought off three with a phone book, a throwing star embedded in it, altho it was rapidly being cut apart by swords. Then Wednesday picked up the teevee and smashed it over the head of one of Friday's attackers. The other's looked back, and Friday swung the throwing star embedded in the phone book across the throats of the other two. Red spurts splattered the walls as they fell. Monday held a cracked coffee table, in front of him were three unconscious or dead black-clad men. Tuesday was pinned in the closet, throwing wire hangars that arced crazily through the air at tremendous speed, until his attackers realized, they were the only ones left.

Three black-clad shadows rushed out of the place, followed by glasses, cymbals, and small statue figurines.

"Damn." Said Tuesday from the closet. The rest of them looked around at the carnage.
"Yeah" Mumbled Wednesday.

"So whaddaya say we go out now?" Said Friday to the stunned, and victorious crowd.
There was a tepid response.
"Yeah."
"I mean it. Something good is on the way. Fjuck! They tried to stop it! Anything good always has something trying to stop it. No?"
"YEAH!" The response was much better this time.
"All right then!"

Friday began ushering people past the bodies of the ninja's, and slapped his hand on the hump of Wednesday's back. Wednesday looked back to see a funny look on Friday's face.
"What?" He asked.
"One, thanks for the teevee move, that was cool."
"No Prob." Said Wednesday.
"Second, don't ever say Tsunami's a sellout. I'll be the one to let you know when that happens."
"Oh. Right."

Happy Friday

Thursday slithered into the room...

Coiled up in a big snake-coil pile, and waited for yours truly...hunting through the maze of the day for some cheese, to come bumbling by. Whereupon he lashed out, constricted the fuck outta me, and then swallowed me whole.

Now don't get me wrong, being stuck inside the dark belly of a snake (er...Thursday) ain't so bad, as long as you don't mind the smell of bile, the sight of puss and vomit-like tummy-gruel, or the sensation of having your skin and muscles digested off your bones.

Now, being a man who's been in this kinda' pinch before, I just kicked back, and rode the digestive track to it's inevitable sphincterish end. Granted, there wasn't much left of me, but I figger it'll grow back come Friday.

I found out about some medical micro-bots a bit later, and thought they would be a handy thing in extricating myself from the tummy of a giant snake (er...Thursday) in the future. Here's the Quote which tied the room together.

"In tests on a live pig, the robots were were inserted through the animal's mouth, and once inside the stomach, surgeons cut a small hole in the stomach wall, which allowed the robot access to the whole abdominal cavity."

I suppose a pocket-knife would do the same job, but they're so hard to get through security. And besides, while pocket-knives are cool, robots are rad.

Right.
I'm outta here.
-Tsunami-

Deet...Deet Deet Deet...Deet Deet...Fjordnews...Deet

There's been more than a lot happening in the world since last we kept you updated. So let's dive right in.

Pirates Still Doing Their Dirty Work

Those British Sex-Fiends do 350 million pounds in damages...EVERY YEAR!

And there's this guy.

Finally, to follow up on the YEAR OF THE MUMMY...

Altho, if you ask me about the last one, I'd say, the guy was a mummy before the horrific torture was performed on him, and then after they'd slain the mummy-beast, then, they threw him in the bog. But, that's just me.

Gonna Slack Around Tonight...

Maybee tomorrow too.

I'm sure you'll manage.

Aaahh...CRAP! (and robots...)

I was going to make a further self-indulgent post about this being the 500th! Of course, when I saw the robot multi-media extravaganza, I was working, and just put up a quick link-post. At least it was a GOOD LINK POST.

So anyways, let me explain, if you have not heard of the robotic displays of Survival Research Labs, or the super impressive Robochrist Industries , we're not talking about things that can walk up stairs, play the trumpet, and do cute little robo-dances to Coldplay. We're talking massive destructo-bots, made of steel, belching out smoke, with massive hydraulic claws and chainsaws, and pneumatic harpoons.

The most impressive at the last performance was the robotic hovercraft. About twelve feet long, with two turrets of dual fire cannons. They were powered by massive tanks of...butane? methane? propane?...I dunno, but the thing was floating around shooting these extremely loud blasts of heat and blue flame, that made people cover their ears. With all the smoke and strange fumes belching from just about everywhere, and the omni-present sputtering of compressors and engines...(not to mention the destruction of everything) it's quite a visceral experience.

Anyways, at the end, this guy drove up on a forklift, holding a massive flame-thrower, and just torched everything. Like, a thirty foot blast of flame...that even set the hovercraft's weapons on fire. Even I thought that seemed a little dangerous.

Well, at least this time I got some pictures I can post up, when I get off my lazy ass. The link's got a ton of media, so go check it out. Or if yer nearing El-Ay, swing by the Casa Aloha, I'll show you the five minutes of video I got b-4 my battery went out. It's pretty fucking great.

P.S. - I just watched the stuff on the link, my shots are like 50 times greater than that. I don't, however, have the means to capture and post said material. For now, you'll just have to see it in person.


-Tsunami-

How was your weekend?

Mine was purtty good. I went here.

Robots make everything better.

And so ends the streak. *sigh*

My good pal Fjord-Borg (who co-incedentally kicks my ass at Halo on a near nightly basis) has just busted my streak of being the only author here...which has stood since 7-14-05.

Which is erm...umm..hang on whist l get my calc-U-lator. 190 days! Holy Moly that's a long frikkin tjime!

I guess all things have to end. And now, we'll see how long the next one goes.

Good to see some of the old gang still lurkin' around the internets. And wherever Q-Dog and the Mindfuck might be...hope your fingers are healing up nicely.

-Tsunami-

Sit Back - Breathe...and pretend you're in a spy movie

Friday stood in the middle of the salt-flats in something resembling a space suit. He had a massive helmet in one hand, and rested the other on the driver's side door of a massive tanker truck.
He was in the middle of a conversation with the driver, who had the window rolled down.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" The driver said.
"Sure." Said Friday with confidence
"Why?"
"It'll be fun!"
"Okay - well, it's your neck. I gotta go."
"See Ya!" Finished Friday.

The weekdays walked up across the flats in similar suits. They walked in a formation, with Tuesday in the front. He spoke first.
"Friday, we do a lot of things you say, but this...this is far beyond anything that I want to do!"
The other weekdays stood there, not exactly implying they agreed with Tuesday, but not implying they didn't.
"C'mon, it'll be a blast - literally! Besides, what else you got to do right now?"
"Friday," Tuesday began to seethe, "I'm getting tired of your platypus!"
"You mean platitudes?"
"See! There! You fucking know what I mean!"
With that, the giant fuel truck drove off, revealing behind it, a formation of five rocket-cars sitting sweetly on the salt-flat.
"Well," Friday began, "you don't have to come. I mean, none of you have to come along, but it always seems that when you end up doing your damnedest, you've got nothin', and you end up doing what I'm doing. And this is what I'm doing. Besides, you know how much work it took to line all this up?"
"It's just that it's! It's! It's..." Tuesday blathered.
"Tuesday," Friday said, "look, sit back - breathe...and pretend your in a spy movie." And with that Friday walked towards the rocket-cars, pulling on his space-suit helmet.

"Eh, what the fuck." Said Monday, and followed after, along with Wednesday and Thursday.
"What the fuck!" Stamped Tuesday. "What the fuck??! I don't want to end up an exploded weekday across a good chunk of Utah! That's what the fuck!" However, shortly after standing there by himself, and watching the others strap themselves in to their rocket cars, he looked around - and shuffled over to do the same.

He lifted the canopy that covered a small cockpit in front of a huge tail-fin, on the top of the big, massive rocket that steamed a dry-ice steam in the desert sun. He connected a few wire leads into his suit, and was privy to the radio conversation taking place.
"So we're doing this why?" Thursday spoke, then there was some static.
"Beacuse there's a party on Saturday in Tokyo!" Said Friday.
"Why don't we just take a plane?" Asked Monday.
"Cause it's already Saturday in Japan. It's the date-line that's our problem. We have to be there today, in order to make if for tomorrow."
"Oh. Copy that."
"Okay gentlemen." Continued Friday, "activate rocket-cars."

With that hands moved to buttons, flicked toggles, and the rocket cars sprang to life. Accelerating at great speed across the salt-flats, the five vehicles left behind them sonic booms as they broke the sound barrier. Then small in the distance, a curious dark shape emerged. The distance rapidly covered, the shape emerged into a gigantic ramp, made of dark steel. Around it massive cranes, trucks, and scaffolding stood.
"Crap." Said Friday.
"What's that?" Radioed Tuesday.
"Doesn't look like they finished."
"WHAT!"
"Well, I did just ask for them to do this today. I think they've done pretty good."
"Good! GOOD! WE'LL BE KILLED! THIS WAS WHY I..."
Friday cut him off.
"Sit back, breathe, and pretend you're in a spy movie."
"Oh Fuck." Wednesday finished Tuesday's thought.

As they covered the distance, they could see small figures with yellow hard-hats scrambling to get out of the way. The ramp itself was huge. Massive. Enormous. Like, Hoover Dam big. Plates were missing, and a work crew was still trying to affix a plate at the very top, held by cables from a massive crane. Friday switched to a different channel, and radioed the work-crew.

"Uh, please get off the ramp. Five rocket-cars heading towards your position. Thank you!"

At the foot of the massive ramp, they could see the men scrambling, and four cables swinging madly in the wind as the crane tried it's best to swing them out of the way! They rode up the gentle slope at an amazing speed. Thursday looked out the side of his canopy, and saw the astonished face of a metal-worker.
"Activate afterburners." Said Friday.

They all did.

The ramp shook, and began to fall apart behind them. Huge plates of steel were blasted back into the desert. Scaffolding fell apart, and tumbled haphazardly down to the ground. Then, in a split-second, Friday, Thursday, Wednesday, Monday and Tuesday left the ramp at an angle of 45 degrees, and at something like 25,000 miles per hour.

Which is pretty damn fast.
Which is what they all thought, as they sailed through the sky, and within moments were looking at the curve of the earth. From high above the Pacific, they could see the little green splotches of Hawaii, and at the far end, the glowing of the sun they were catching up to. At a certain spot (aided by navagational computers - of course) Friday said, "Okay, cut engines."

They glided through the perfect quiet of space, as the Pacific drifted past, and gravity began to tug on them.

"Hey Friday," Said Wednesday. How are we...exactly...supposed to land?" There was the obligatory static after he transmitted that.
"Well, if my mathematician's numbers are right, there should be a corresponding ramp built at our landing site."
"If your mathematician's numbers are right!" Said Monday.
"Yeah. Of course my translator didn't exactly know some of the words to describe what we're up to, so, hopefully the construction company got the information just right."
"Just right!" Said Thursday. "If they don't!"
"Okay, how many times do I have to say this. Sit back, breathe, and pretend..."

Happy Friday.

Congratulations!!!

Normally - this kind of post would be reserved for a comments section but I decided that the magnitude and grandeur of what is being congratulated needed to be thrust into the limelight. I want to personally thank Dario Tsunami and congratulate him on what is truly one of the most entertaining blogs out there - some of these things should have a fee attached to them - way too good to be free. Anway, Dario, you're a great man and somehow an even better writer. The pure quality and dedication to what's in here is truly inspirational. All future verbs that explain whatever actions you are in the midst of should have the word "fjordly" attached to them. I can't wait until my next chance at a mad-lib.

yer pal,

Fjord Borg

And now for something completely different

We're one year old today.
(Now before anybody goes all ape-shit here, I think it's fair to warn you: I will personally fuck anyone in the mouth with a shovel who says, "Yabba-dabba-doo!"

So, now...what to say about alllll that?

1) In one year, this little webzine has seen 7,584 visitors, and been hit 17,051 times.
That's probably 7,500 people I wouldn't have communicated at all with in the last year. I'm glad we kept in touch.

Now, if you would have told me last year at this time, that in this span of time, I would have lost three of my fellow writers to "blogging fatigue" I would have thought - "no way man, not these guys!" However, as has been mentioned at this site a couple of times, writing is hard. Writing in today's content driven era on a random electronic page (amidst 800 million other random electronic pages)...is practically meaningless. Still, as a body of work, Fjord's pretty much exceeded all expectations. There's a couple of stupendous posts, a few great ones, and tons in the "purtty good" category.
"Why are you saying this?" You ask.
Well, the other day, I went nuts on the blogger toolbar, and looked at some random competition. If I do say so myself, Fjord has no random competition. We have NO competition, period.
What this means, I have no idea.

-Tsunami-
And now, a re-post from back in the merry days of November.
Enjoy.

Well, there goes the neighborhood...a short, short story

I saw him looking out the window, on the fourth story of a brick apartment building that might have been built in the 40's. He was obviously sort of a man-sized bug, but what kind, I couldn't tell from the street, and what with the reflections off the glass window.

A man came out of the apartment building and I looked at him. It seemed as though he was pretty well human, which gave me at least a little hope that the whole place wasn't a big nest or hive of the huge creatures. Altho, as I looked closer at the man, (who had reached the sidewalk, and was now moving towards me) it appeared that his disguise wasn't as good up-close as it was from far away. a small bump stuck out on his forehead, under the skin. In the exact spot where an antenna would be.

"Not so fast Mr. Bug!" I said, and grabbed his neck by the crook of my elbow. "I don't know what you're doing in my neighborhood, or what your plans for humanity are, but I aim to stop you!" Then I began tugging madly at his hair and back of his mask's neck in order to pull it off him.
"Stop!" He cried.
"Never!" I said, pulling like mad at the scruff of his neck, "Not until you tell me what your species is planning to do to the earth!"
"Stop!" He cried again as I got a better grip on the top of his scalp and pulled like crazy. I could feel it move, but it didn't seem as though it would come off."
"Hey! What are you doing!?" Said a passerby.
"This apartment building is full of man-sized insects," I said, "and this is one of them in disguise. I'm going to unmask him and find out what their plans are!"
"Christ, another whacko." The guy said. Then he ran up to try and pry my arm away from the giant insect's neck. Eventually, and with much struggling, they were able to pry me off, however, as they did, I jumped back and whipped out my gun.

"Allright." I said. "Look Mr. I don't know if you're working for them, or if you're just a confused bystander, but whether this bug's dead or alive, I'm going to have his mask off." Then, I addressed the bug in the mask. "So what's it going to be? You've got three seconds before I fire!" The bug didn't move.
"One." I said quickly. The bystander's eyes moved rapidly between me, my gun, and the masked bug.
"Two!" I didn't wait long to say it, and then cocked the hammer back. The bug reached up and began pulling off his realistic-looking human mask. Underneath, wasn't a man-sized bug, but instead a man-sized duck!
"Holy crap!" The bystander said, jumping away from the duck.
"All-right duck." I said, keeping him covered, "What's this all about?"
"Quack." He said.
"So it's going to be like that huh." I turned to the bystander, "Hey buddy, see what I'm talking about!!??"
"Uh, yeah..." He said, confused.
"Well you'd better go fetch some law. Who knows what else is in that apartment building!"
"Yeah," He finished, and took off up the street.

I turned back to the duck.
"So, what insidious plots are you hatching in that apartment building?"
"Quack, quack." He said.
I shot him in the leg.
Lousy ducks.

All Right Then...

More and more, 2006 is resembling a horrible caramel spill where, you think it's really fun - what with all the screaming and the fact that it goes great with apples...that is until you loose your shoes, and socks, and even when yer actually out of the stuff, your bare feer are just picking up large rocks, pine cones, and stray bits of glass, (cause they're sticky too) and driving them deep towards your metatarsil bones (or whatever bone structure is deep within your feer...)

So anyways, I'm going to take a trip to a happier place. A place where candied panda run free, peering playfully from behind trees, awaiting you to get hungry enough to catch one. A place where you can pick up a kick-ass automobile for the simple price of twenty pushups. (hard for some, I know...but it's a damn fine CAR I'm talking about.) A place where the Lollipop Guild and the Leprechaun's Union have hilarious bare-knuckled brawls for control of the sugar-plum racket. A place where you can go to Reno, shoot a man - watch him die, and the cops'll say (over thunderous applause of bystanders) "Quite right, he'd had it coming for a while now. Good thing you came along...say, would you like a new house?"

And I'm not even bringing up the hovercraft, rocket-cars, liquid-nitrogen, robot servants, epoxy seas, cloud-cities and the slim model-esque nature of the inhabitants. I'm just sayin', I'm goin'. Wanna come?

Yaay! Whoo!

- 2006 -

It's a little slippery right now. I'm just lying down amongst the piles of crap everywhere - left over from the weekend. Sometimes those kind of things are kinda nice, like you're surrounded in a protective maze...other times, like now, I just gotta get rid of crap. So that's what I'm gonna do. Back in a bit.

As a MN follow-up

I was looking through the archives and found this. (How cool is it to link to ones-self? Berry Berry cool.)

Anyways the guy running for governor said...

He promises that if he's elected, he will impale terrorists on pikes.

If you read the comments for "Deathblog 2005" you'll find that pikes are always funny.

Oooh! Here's one more from our common Fjordpast...

I'm off...to New Orleans to declare myself King of the Swamp People. I will begin my reign of terror by displaying the heads of those who disobey me on pikes, surrounding the roof of the Superdome!

Awww...crap...

I just clicked on a link from cute-overload, and got...

Adorablog!

Dang...

I need to go drink wisky and feel like a man. Or something.