a. beam of light in blogistan
Oui, J'aime blog!
In the beginning
There was darkness on the face of the deep
The links that keep it shinin'
Saturday, August 03, 2002
A BLOGGY DAY IN LONDON TOWN: In today's Daily Telegraph, Mark Steyn channels Blair!Friday, August 02, 2002... (A)n estimated 10,000 Palestinians whooped it up in the streets of Gaza, celebrating their glorious victory on the battlefield of the university's Frank Sinatra Centre. Those Palestinians hipsters won't dance to Frank - no Songs For Swingin' Lovers in Gaza - but give 'em some Songs for 'Splodin' Losers and you've got a capacity crowd ready to cheer all the old favourites: Come Die With Me, I've Got Jews Under My Skin, I've Got The World On A Fuse, all the hits.William Quick also makes an appearance!
HAPPY WELCHIN' BIRTHDAY! Well, I fletchin' missed that fletchin' yesterday was Welch's fletchin' birthday! What a fletchin' cretin I am! Rave on, Matt!
BLOGGER LOSES ANOTHER ONE: The Last Page chick has moved! Adjust yourselves accordingly.
"HAMAS, DON'T LET YOUR BABIES GROW UP TO BE SHRAPNEL!" If the newspapers of the planet are too stupid to hire Blair and pay him large, comfortable piles of money, some enterprising Nashville sort should! Somebody call Willie!Monday, July 29, 2002
WOOF! Must be the dog days! People are getting cranky and pullin' out the old broad brush to do a little summer painting! Even Jarvis!Sunday, July 28, 2002I admit it. I'm prejudiced. I'm a bike bigot. I hate bike riders. Not kids on bike. Not dumpy guys in shorts on bikes. Not moms on bikes. I can't stand the show-off dorks in their too-tight Spiderman outfits and padded codpieces who hog the road as if they think it was built for them. I live in a hilly area with lots of trees and streets that used to be country roads (but they're busier now; my town is a suburb in rural drag). Bikers love it there. They invade in packs. They take over the roads. It's bad enough having to slow down to a crawl behind them, since they refuse to move to the right. The other day, I was coming up a steep hill and coming my way were bikers taking over both lanes, heading straight for me. And they give me dirty looks as if I am taking up space on their road. What frigging dorks they are. Dangerous. Deluded. Dorks in Spandex. When I'm out running (hey, that's real exercise -- no wheels, no gears, no tailwinds, just sweat) I invariably run into bikers. I say, "Good morning," and give a little wave. They act as if they're concentrating too hard on setting the land-speed record to be able to be polite and say, "Hi," in return. Rude dorks. Rude impotent dorks in ugly Spiderman Spandex.Yeah, there are rude guys on bikes! Amazing, ain't it? Just like there are rude guys in cars and rude guys with blogs! But a lot of us aren't! We're lovely, educated folks with bulging, muscular thighs and beautiful girlfriends who love our sleek, lycra-clad selves! (Go for a long ride in your bulky shorts and boxers, pal! You're just a saddle sore away from lycra conversion!) We'll even smile and wave at your pavement-pounding, knee-destroying ass! Impeding traffic and making important folks like you three minutes late to Starbucks is just a bonus! (It's a joke! We'll move to the right! And smile and wave again! Because it's a beautiful day and you're stuck in your little metal coffin!) Oh, and that "real exercise" crack? Nyuk, nyuk! Good one! I'll remember that next time I'm grinding up a 15 percent grade with a 195 heart rate!
THAT'S FOUR, BABY!