Hamstersss

Yeah, well, you can always watch reruns. I hear Turner's gonna rerelease the first three threads, and colorize 'em, you know, bring 'em up to date from the old ugly blue and even-uglier blue days to the modern ****-brown and vomit-green. Wait till Spielburg gets the rights, then we'll have digitally remastered scenes, with previously cut posts from Croda and Stuka.

Did you just say "bit off" and "bauhaus" in the same sentence? What happened to decorum? Who speaks for the 'Pool?! Oh, yeah, see what happens when theme songs disappear, everything goes to the dogs...

You whore, I almost missed that comment. Whore.

Did anyone else get the image of a Cesspudlian Bill and Ted visited by a George Carlin from a society based entirely on the wisdom of the Pool?

Ah, like the sublime, folksy wisdom of Gaylord Focker. My dear Horty Worty, how ever did you manage to get away from that mean, old lady who lured you into her gingerbread house?

Um, sure, Hiraime, er, Morom, uh, Heram, whatever your name is, of course I accept that, like Joe Shaw/Seanachai, you (the personality I'm addressing right now) would prefer to be considered unique and seperate from the other, er, one. Um, yeah, I sure hope we heat up that war against the Muslims so I can go on a Crusade and get the helicopter outta here. Hey, Hortie Wortie, why don't you get your shapely derriere moving and punch up some more homoerotic propaganda to enrage people's hearts. Chop chop, lad, that baby oil gets sticky after a while.

I'd like to exercise my regal authority to set things right, but Konrad and Hiram are now female, and I just can't seem to conjugate verbs properly anymore. Oh lordy, lordy, I don't know nothin' 'bout birthin' no babies.

Would it make any difference? By that I mean, to my level of confusion, not to my proclivity toward talking dirty, my little Hortie Wortie.

First I find out that Konrad's a girl. Now Hiram, the hirsute man-child, is wearing a dress. Programs, programs, get yer programs here! You can't tell the trannie from the train without a program!!!

You know, I didn't even like my grandfather. Seriously, he was a git, an ass, stuck-up, overbearing, cold, lacking in humor and decency. You know, me, but older and less svelte. Anyway, he managed to pull a crew out of a burning tank, stormed Normandy, probably killed some unlucky German folks, and ended up with a silver star and a purple heart with clusters. He died about a year back, after the requisite stroke and decline and, well, what's the point? We're getting to the period when everyone who survived that war is losing another one, and whether religious or not, it makes for a rotten lesson on fate and frailty. We grow so indignant of Coventry-boy, but I can see the point of the indifference, hell, it's what makes sense. This sort of thing happens every day, seven people died in an avalanche the day before (after?) the Columbia exploded, so it becomes not a matter of mortality, but of proximity. I'm not sure that I've got a point, in all likelihood there isn't a point. And dammit, there are no archdukes left.

What a tedious mess to wade through. So Joe Shaw is Seanachai. I'd have never guessed it. Of course, now that it's revealed, it makes perfect sense. The one always sucking up to Chupacabre, the other always sucking goats, the little one pretending to be a big-time guy while the fat one pretends to be svelte. And come on, are we to believe there to be any difference between Minnesota and Utah? There remain questions: 1) Do they realize they are the same person or are they split personalities, unaware of their present, sordid, freakish state? 2) What would happen if we locked them in a closet together for 5 minutes? Self-aggrandizing sing-song, or the creation of a constitutional monarchy? 3) Were we not aware of their 'names', how could we tell them apart? Does each persona actually differ on some fundamental level, or is it like Leslie Nielson with a cat and a machinegun? 4) The most shocking thought, are there more?

It was that Polish person. No, I'm serious, I just found out myself and, let me tell you, it's not right.

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