I must have given Leslie at least 10 dollars in quarters by now. And with me not getting my tax rebate this year that hurts. I thought my 25 cents was at least buying a reader. Leslie is 17 and one of my huggers. Like other members of her generation, Leslie gets pissed when I try to hide her true identity online. I tell her it's for her protection. She says she is really only worried about stalkers.
I tell her that she really doesn't have much to worry from guys in Ohio jacking off to her pictures on the Internet. Most people who stalk you know you personally. They are ex-boyfriends or family members. I tell Leslie that she should worry about future employers finding her on this blog and not giving her a job. I tell her she needs to worry about insurance companies reading her MySpace and denying her coverage.
Leslie tells me she will start reading my blog again if I write a long post about her, but she says she is never sure when I add another post. I tell her it's about time to abandon the ego-centric moral development of juveniles. She gives me a pouty face. So I decide to write a long post dedicated to her where I can explain what an RSS feed is. But I decided to just let you guys look that up on Wiki. By the way I have as RSS feed, and I am pretty sure that I don't have even one subscriber. The feeder link is the orange button next to my stats info. I put the RSS feed up on the suggestion of my brother. I know from my RSS stats that even he hasn't bothered to subscribe.
The staff over at the Daily Brimstone doesn't think I am boring. They just wrote a huge blog post about how great I am. Some people, namely Dr. Monkey Von Monkerstein, think my posts "are like haunting prose poems of the damned or they are a dry joke inflicted on a world that has no sense of humor." But I can't expect the entire world to love me. Only the smart ones I guess. And the ones I write about.
Leslie and I play SAT vocabulary games at work to pass the time. She is smarter than me, but I read 18th century Philosophy, so whenever she stumps me with a word I break out Kant. Antinomy, gets a blank stare from her. Reification? Leslie does not think these are words. But I can use those words in a sentence. In fact I will commence with an entire paragraph, because I am tired of people reifying the concept of God.
"Reification in thought occurs when an abstract concept describing a relationship or context is treated as a concrete "thing", or if something is treated as if it were a separate object when this is inappropriate because it is not an object." [Wiki: Reification-Marxism]
You know the way that some deists and "spiritual but not religious" people think that god "must" exist. When people talk about "god" that way they usually empty the content of the word. But if words are to mean anything they must describe something in particular. And there are plenty of examples of what people think god is, and most of those ideas are sillier than than the idea that God wrote in Egyptian hieroglyphics on golden tablets about his son's trip in to the New World and then buried them someplace in upstate New York.
I have no idea how that was supposed to tie in with Evil Spock being dead. But I wasn't going to lecture you on the meaning of god I was just going to break into my character Medusa-in-a-box and tell you about Evil Spock's return. But I can't remember how the hell I was going to do that. I think it had something to do with the disappearance of Cowboy killer Jessica Simpson's now red headed little sister, Ashlee Simpson.
I mean where the fuck did she go? She go that cute little nose, anorexic figure, and capooee. Blogs don't talk about her anymore. I guess with the Britney and Jamie-Lynn's hogging all the attention and the coloring of Ashlee's hair red, your guess is as good as mine. Though it turns out Scottsdale is the correct answer. And Scottsdale is very close to me, and Ashlee is close to Jessica and Jessica killed the Cowboy's chances for a Super Bowl and My name isn't Romius Texis for no reason y'all, so yeah I'd like to kill me some Ashlee Simpson. I think I'd fuck them before I killed them. Or maybe after I killed them I'd fuck them. I mean can you imagine having to listen to both of those emo-cunts in one night? Below is a picture of Ashlee looking hot, not red-headed.