I was recently telling Cadavre about blogs I used to write on MySpace. Remember MySpace? No? Well, MySpace was the unnecessary social network that allowed people to be completely narcissistic before professional narcissist Mark Zuckerberg came along and made Facebook. But this is not at all pertinent to the story, and so the discussion of social networks will now be closed.
Where was I? Like I didn't know. Like I would actually write "where was I" if I had lost my place. Nay, clear reader, thou hast caught me in a weak attempt to add spice and vigor to a generally lifeless microbyte of the internet, the NerdMachine blog where fun goes to grow old and eventually be taken off life support. "Where was I," in the parlance of our times, is meant to add a human sentiment to the proceedings, gaining support from voters across these great unslighted grates. Verily, I chose such phrase over the oft fucked "but I digress." Hast thou saideth this in thine normal day to day? Working 9 - 5? Dolly Parton? Say whomever tolls the bell is for whom the bell tolls? What say you?
I've gone off topic. Cadavre read words that explained how I would write blogs on MySpace (you remember MySpace?) that made little cents on the dollar. One out of every five plumber's apprentice can tell you the difference, Bob Barker. Writing these letters which made words which made sentences which communicated an abstract idea to another human being slapped a whammy of a pickle onto my mushy subnoggin, recalling memories that accidentally made it our of the factory. Memories of a day when your hero (can I have an ego for just one millennium?) scraped ink onto paper, ink that was then reproduced onto cheaper paper and distributed amongst the many angry villagers. Some of these images were not seen by public eyes. Some images were strange and unusual. But what is usual? Please define for the processing unit so he can finish his work before the Nightly Nudes.
Forsooth! Cryptograms!
I've also been doing new pinups for "The Second Rate Spies" series. Like this one:
Unto thee.... ROCK!
Where was I? Like I didn't know. Like I would actually write "where was I" if I had lost my place. Nay, clear reader, thou hast caught me in a weak attempt to add spice and vigor to a generally lifeless microbyte of the internet, the NerdMachine blog where fun goes to grow old and eventually be taken off life support. "Where was I," in the parlance of our times, is meant to add a human sentiment to the proceedings, gaining support from voters across these great unslighted grates. Verily, I chose such phrase over the oft fucked "but I digress." Hast thou saideth this in thine normal day to day? Working 9 - 5? Dolly Parton? Say whomever tolls the bell is for whom the bell tolls? What say you?
I've gone off topic. Cadavre read words that explained how I would write blogs on MySpace (you remember MySpace?) that made little cents on the dollar. One out of every five plumber's apprentice can tell you the difference, Bob Barker. Writing these letters which made words which made sentences which communicated an abstract idea to another human being slapped a whammy of a pickle onto my mushy subnoggin, recalling memories that accidentally made it our of the factory. Memories of a day when your hero (can I have an ego for just one millennium?) scraped ink onto paper, ink that was then reproduced onto cheaper paper and distributed amongst the many angry villagers. Some of these images were not seen by public eyes. Some images were strange and unusual. But what is usual? Please define for the processing unit so he can finish his work before the Nightly Nudes.
Forsooth! Cryptograms!
I've also been doing new pinups for "The Second Rate Spies" series. Like this one:
Unto thee.... ROCK!
VIEW 7 of 7 COMMENTS
suispud1:
I thought it was called MyButt.
cadavre:
My brain is still running in circles, absolutely confuzzled but entertained