yes, well, so much for getting started, but then, you've come to expect side-saddled rambling and long-winded introductions if you've been coming back here long enough... so let's get to this more direct letter-like commenting thing I told you I was going to start doing... remember, z0tl is shades of gray and my comments are in the usual black and white... ready (again), set, go:


stop eating fervirginmaryssakes!

yes, well, we've about covered this, haven't we?... of course much more could be written, especially since the effects of the chips are already wearing off (there were not a lot, after all)... it has been at least twelve hours since I've eaten, after all, and in spite of the bloat and blow-fish neck, natural forces would tend to produce hunger after twelve hours, right?...

I have three hours before I need to be showered and off to work, after all... I must say that I must acknowledge that I must be feeling some musty pressure to comply and complete this comment before you decide it is time to delete this particular blog (talk about feeling like I wasted my time rambling on and on, aye?), which is an odd pressure I've noticed ever since I started working again and do not have the time to ramble on in the pure timelessness that I did back in the nineties... sad, in fact, to wonder just how much has been lost (or never actually came into being literary stuff) along the way...

half your life is spent trying to find something to do with the time you spent the other half of your life trying to save

I went for canned goods... what might seem like an odd mix (it's a first for me and I never cease to be amazed that after millions of years of omnivorous consumption that I can still come up with combinations my palate has not yet tried... especially when employing canned goods... tonight's delicacy consists of a mixture of spaghettios with franks and vegan meatballs with i can't believe it's not butter and ketchup in one bowl... and in the other bowl, a delectable combination of yellow squash and sweet vidalia onions... both heated to searing perfection and currently warming this body from the inside...

I know I've grossed out the many gourmet readers who come to your comments for culinary tips before they are whisked into oblivion, but it just had to be done, I mean, it's forty fukkin four degrees, after all... I know, I plagiarized your adjective... did I mention that we are also dining on sliced Pepperidge Farms seven grain bread, lite, in fact, so that each slice only contains 45 calories instead of the usual 80 to 120?... there is hope for my triple chins yet...

ok, so my greens are yellow and everything is processed into whatever, I'll just have to partake in some greens later... I have some, obviously, this being a rainbow household... maybe I'll have some pistachio ice cream if it warms up a bit later...

but I am responding to your blog post... I am just not following your instructions too well... and perhaps that means we should move on from the title and to the first line of the actual post now (he chides sheepishly)...

Okay, tis proper Christmas today, so I made a personalized video to all y'all who stumble here occasionally, witnessing history as I'm burning all my stuff.

time is irrelevant... so in the immortal words of Frosty the Snowman who knew exactly what to say first when suddenly coming to life, Happy Birthday!... and Merry Christmas and Happy Chanukah and Questionable Kwanzaa and someday I will actually re-create a list of all the holidays so I can just insert the file as I used to do and not miss out on any of the cordially invited festivities...

I don't recall ever being to one of those Burning Man ceremonies, but being that I wandered around in a drug-induced coma for a number of years, I could not say I've never been... I would like to remember being at such an event, however, for I've heard it is a wonderful experience with amazing people (once you get passed the weekend warriors and armchair quarterbacks)...

but when it comes the burning, man, nobody quite does it like you... and my haphazard saving of random words as you toss them into the flames of oblivion (imagine that, I reach into the flames of oblivion for you... now I see why you proposed) should make for an even more fascinating fire once all my recycled stuff gets reconstituted and burned...

still, being the sensitive pansy I am, I shed tears...

not enough to put out the the fires, after all, for you do have the gates of hell wide upon behind you and who am I to give the devil his due, but being that it was once Xmas and all, I can try to piss on the flames from the cross and stain a few pages yellow just so they might be recognized as once touched by the anointed one...

was that lightening we just saw flashing before our eyes?...

yes, well, I am waking up now and feeling my oats have been summarily sown, so there's no telling what bit of irreverent slapstick or blasphemous heresy might come pouring from my fingers (you don't know where these fingers have been... flash to a recent photo of Britney Spears exiting Paris Hilton's motor vehicle... and is it just coincidence that both Hilton and Hitler start with H, contain six letters, and have a history of passing gas over Jews?... wait a minute, S-p-e-a-r-s, six!... we've found the unholy trinity, Hitler, Hilton, and Spears, 666!... no wonder why her vagina looked like the gates of hell)...

perhaps we should get back to your post now...

Please excuse the w0rd "bitches" in the video. I AM NOT GAY, STOP HITTING ON ME ALL YOU RABID MALES OUT THERE, I am engaged to Ric Candoor and we're very happy thank you very much. We've been talkin about a harem lately tho, so Eric D and BPG (when Mrs. M finally kicks your ass outta the house, knock on steel), you're welcome to submit an application.

there is no excuse, you know... and speaking of our harem, I still want it to be co-ed and call first dibs on the virgins... what?... (the vocal tone and facial expressions lacking in literature diminish the potential impact of this and many other written words, but take my word for it, if you saw me in the mirror, this would be funny)... I'll share...

such egocentric claptrap has not been seen since the licks of (err, likes of) Robin Williams met Groucho Marx and Lenny Bruce and George Carlin in my dreams... actually, George was a bit tame for that group and hung in the back with Bill Cosby, Mort Sahl, Checky Green, and Phil Silvers... notice there are no women in the group... yes, until recently, all comedians were gay... they just didn't want you to know that...

I will have to investigate your two new cronies before looking over their applications, but I trust your judgment and welcome them into the flock with reservations for the linch at the Four Seasons... lunch, I meant lunch, really...

Now drink and be merry, I forgot to toast in my video and if you're looking for anything funny, there isn't any, it's just 9 1/2 minutes of whining, following by a quick 15 seconds of credits to you all who were stupid enough to watch it.

at least it wasn't 9 1/2 weeks... I still remember masturbating to the spread what's her name did in Playboy before she slipped into something less comfortable in the movies... Kim Basinger, that's her... she bought part of Georgia once, didn't she?... yeah, nothing like a girl who gets naked and buys a who town to turn a guy on... but she can leave her hat on...

your self-deprecation can be endearing at times, but it's nothing to masturbate to...

is there anyone I haven't offended yet?...

Video coming in 5, 4, 3... whenever friggin YouTube decides to let me in. It's busy, everyone uploading their Christmas Carols... Till then watch the new one under lynklanes. Serenity, GASP, you hate Baby Jesus? OMG!

ah, yes, we segue from masturbatory fantasies to the Baby Jesus... we did segue, right?... I mean, combining these two thoughts could be the offensiveness that gets hate mail from the religious right, after all...

I should only be so lucky...

everyone uploading... videos... yes, I am imagining what I might be like writing these sort of rambles with my voice instead of with the keyboard... it's easy to keep a straight face when typing... it's not as if I forget anyone in the world might be out there reading too often, so I wonder how much change in self-consciousness or tone or content might happen, especially when I am breaking all the censors red pencils as I am today...

it's a tribute to you, after all, my lovedude...

don't be jealous, Serenity, you'll always be welcome at the orgy... maybe we'll have it at your house? (and who needs a video to see the glare coming back at the screen now?... I can only hope you are very good at holding back your giggles, just pretend we're in church)...

speaking of Catholic school girl fantasies...

You know what I noticed in this video? I am fatter looking on a PC than on a MacBook! Fucking Bill Gates, always out to get you. Now back to ripping out z0tleries and next video I promise you'll see me burning pages from my Real Journal, the one I've been keeping (very sporadically) since highsqool.

yes, fatness... I noticed it in the picture Rasputin refused to take at Disney on Xmas eve... I could have spent days playing with the video games and fun technology they had their... and to think, all that's standing between me and all that technology right here in the comfort of the big green chair at home is tons of money...

the amazing irony of this body I inhabit is that I can not put an ounce on my arms or legs, but breathing in a bakery adds ten pounds to my face... I am so not exaggerating... when I drop about fifty pounds I'll show you the before and after photos and you'll see what I mean...

but perhaps, somewhere in my rambles, I am not so vain as to not show you the only photo taken of me in the past two years after all... we shall see... if you can catch time, you may find out because as we all know, time will tell...

perhaps I should get a Mac... not a Big Mac, mind you, because Macs are a lot more expensive than PCs and I am quite poor, but a little Mac... nope, that's why I won't get a Mac, because I won't part with my 21 incher... screen, I mean...

before moving on to your next paragraph, I mourn the loss...


(which seems like a practically perfect moment to call the rest of this comment the next entry, for pausing and mourning the loss moment)...

. o O ( NOTES ARE THE NEW HAPPY PILL ) O o .
(just let me know you were here)