What language. It appears the good Reverend needs a relaxing sabbatical away from the Internet and its corrupting influence. Maybe he can spend that time learning to curb the flow of profanity.

I think that would be a fucking good idea.

 
"What targets would you consider fair game for a satirist today?"

"Assholes."

 

A comment is not really required.

 
To all the - ahem - dogged search engine enquirers stumbling about on guff while seeking Paige Davis sans jeans and baby tee, notice that you won't find her naked here, either.

(Just following in Barnum's footsteps and pointing the way to the egress.)

 
You know Ron Popeil, right? Mr. Ronco? Well for some reason his name keeps rotating about my prefrontal lobe like a chicken on a rotisserie, morphing into strange yet familiar forms hooked into current events like a fish on a line. For example:

Ron Pong Il: Brutal totalitarian leader — He slices and dices and never gets dull!

Ron Agitpropeil: Political propagandist within the media — Makes delicious turkey jerky!

Pope Ronil: Compassionate, peace-loving pope — Reveals how you can cash in on your own million-dollar idea!

Even worse, when I think he's finally passed from my thoughts, that deep, raspy baritone chimes in with "But wait, there's more!" So to clear the palate, or in this case the neurons, I'm catching up on some Keillor I missed.

 
Gee. For all of us here in America, I accept your apology.

And it was extra nice of you to stick to English. You know how we all hate anything French right now.

 
A Florida woman gave birth to her 3rd child at 3:33pm on 03/03/03. Now if she'd only had the kid in New Jersey (which is the the 3rd state of the Union), it would have been cool. Though not quite Illuminati cool. For that, its weight would need to have been 3lbs, 3oz.

No one ever said being Illuminati cool is healthy.

 
I'm sure you're surprised to hear this, but it turns out the coming war with Iraq has nothing to do with oil. Honest. Turns out Kurt Russell and James Spader are partly to blame. Or at the very least have a lot of explaining to do. That's because the war in 'reality' is all about a Stargate.

Now, you might expect me to include Richard Dean Anderson, Amanda Tapping and Christopher Judge, and even Michael Shanks in the finger pointing, but I'm just too big a fan of the show.

Corin Nemec, on the other hand...

 
What is it about women and scooters? Seriously, I really want to know.

 
May not have a heaping plate full of time, but it's Monday, so once again let me post the...

Poem of the Week: The Angels Are Not Coming

 
Fruit! Fruit! Who cares if it doesn't go with coffee?

Oh, uh, sorry. That wasn't meant for posting. I was hungry. Onto the topic...

Things will be in extreme go slow mode through March here on guff. I'll be around, but I suspect not as engrossing as I normally tend to be — ahem.

Why?

Well, after delays, hesitations and other (in hindsight completely illusionary) roadblocks, I'm getting the wheels turning on The Blog Recorder. I have at least two interviews in the pipeline, and expect to have the first completed and publicly available by early next week. I'll be posting more about all this on TBR in the next few days.

Also, and this is the big one, I'm at the end of a tether regarding employment. I've been without for far too long (yes, still talking about employment here). However, there's a barely perceptible break in the local job market sluice gates covering areas of my professional experience. Since in all probability it's a very temporary one, I plan to do everything I can to make the most of it. This means that when I'm not knocking on glass doors, my online schedule will be split primarily between job search and porn (sacrifices must be made).

So, what time there is left over for blogging will mainly be allocated to TBR. Not that I'll let things die on guff. Or Blurried Musings, for that matter. Actually, BM has appeared a bit comatose, hasn't it. Oh well.

Anyway, if I believed in it, I'd ask for someone to wish me luck. Instead, I'm gunning for "it's my turn!"