The thought has recently occurred that one way to stave off the excruciating boredom that is the sad reality of so much of this mortal puff, would be to sidle within earshot of some randomly chosen person at a bus stop or train platform and quietly mutter, in one's best Droopy Dog voice, "Why, you don't smell hardly at all!"
That'd be one way to do it, anyway. Only the fleetest of foot, silent as the ninja and slippery as Roy Cohn, should take up this hobby. The risks are, great -- but ah the rewards!
In something like this spirit, we've decided the old Blogroll needed some light dusting and preventive maintenance, and so we've made some additions that likewise don't smell hardly at all.
I likes me some Redneck Mother. I've always thought that children went very well on a nice bed of lettuce, which will probably end me up in Hell -- and thus do I miraculously recapitulate all three of the things she's raising down Brazos way. She's up for a Koufax for Best Post. After you read the post you'll understand why. Pure heliotrope.
I have a horrendous oversight to correct. I wanted to check out what kind of rollicking fun Bravin and Gad were cooking up at Sadly, No! so I popped over to the Roll and realized to my horror that I'd never actually put them in there! Months ago! I could have sworn! And did! Shit! We'll work on the Spanish lessons later. Unhand that Febreze!
There he sits, atop Joe Bageant's Blogroll, glaring malevolently out at a world not of his own making and spitting bile at it. Arvin Hill, O Best Belovéd, can dish it out. Here he refuses to cut Larry Wilkerson, Colin Powell's careerist right-hand man, any slack for waiting five years before slumming down the Road to Damascus: Fuck You, Larry. Now Apologize. Larry puts off just about the rankest compound of villainous smell that ever offended nostril. Arvin, not at all.
There he sits, roughly about, oh, halfway down Joe Bageant's Blogroll, glaring malevolently out at a world not of his own making and, if anything, venting even more bile than Arvin. King of Zembla's reputation precedes him. That's Reputation, not Redolence. With posts like these, there's a distinct dearth of noxious noisomeness emanating from that quarter.
All right. So long, all you happy people.
Now the Super Bowl's this weekend, right? They're playing Saturday, right? I'll whip up a batch of Tater Skins and Wings for when the gang comes over tomorrow! Go New England!