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Friday, March 04, 2005

moet bottle

Ray of Despair

I really must lay off the Moët when cruising the outer frontiers of the blogosphere. I'm clearly losing control of my critical faculties.

In my comment in-box recently, a nice note from one AzaLea thanking me for visiting her blog.

Having no recollection whatsoever of looking in on La Aza but, interested in anything I might have shown interest in, I made haste to remind myself of the pleasures.

Well gosh - if I *did* look in, I'm disturbed I stayed long enough to leave a traceable footprint.

It's one of those "gloomy" sites that affects a pseudo-seriousness.

I even glimpsed those kiss-of-death words "ray of hope" that always make me want to hurl the laptop into the foamy Puget brine and sprint to the bo'sun's cabin for large slugs of kitchen sherry.

It gets worse, to the extent that, even in my most absinthe-sodden state with Kenny G playing on the stereo, I cannot believe I managed to get anywhere near writing like this without keeling over in a rabid fainting fit.

If reference to rays of hope strikes terror in your soul, try this little catalog of gems, lifted verbatim from the azaLea patch:

A Solemn Legroom For My Thoughts, My Feelings And My Ideas. Not To Mention My Daily Encounter With The Humanoid Milieu And Everything Alive Or Non-Breathing Materials Involved. My Words Matter Most Here Than Every One Elses. Not That You Are Not Important To Me. Of Course You Are. But It Would Be Nice For Me To Be Important In Return. At Least To A Somebody. Is That Somebody You?
What can it all mean?

Legroom for her thoughts? Humanoid milieu? Words mattering *most* than every one else's?

Surely I'd know if I'd stumbled into a verbal quagmire of such high octane potency? Would I not have woken with a throbbing in the left temple, an unexplained flickering of the eyeballs ...

The only other explanation - too dreadful to contemplate - is that vagrant blogistas cruise the ether scattering false thanks on the off-chance of enticing the gullible into their gaz-e-bos of verbal kitsch.

The lesson here is clear: Make do with a less concentrated mix of bubbly with my breakfast OJ, and keep my wits about me at all times.

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