Subscribe to all of my blatherings right in your wob brewser!Subscribe to my latest blatherings right in your wob brewser! Pnårp in print! Made from 35% recycled toilet paper! Send Pnårp your garrulous praise… or excretory condemnation! The less you tweet? The more you toot! Dreaming widely about my page! Tweet! Tweet! Twat! Livin’ it up… on a living journal! A whole book full of my faces?
You’re my favorite visitor!

Pnårp’s docile & perfunctory page

The spiders began to sing and chant

Refracted after June 6, 1999.

Wednesday, after returning home from a digitized dog house, I discovered counting. “One potato, two potato, three potato four; five potato, six potato, seven potato, more.” It meant nothing. It meant less than nothing. It meant more than nothing.

Sunday, I glimpsed seventeen refracted, gelatinous piles of spiders under my F9 key on my 105-key keyboard, the one that I bought for $19.95. The spiders, having already met the screaming stars, began to sing and chant, “Yadda yadda yadda!” It’s the season finale, isn’t it? I know it is. The spiders say so…! It was definitely built to last. Let me call the super, and he will let us in. I am watching seven televisions at once, and the spiders, the ones who know the screaming stars, do not like it. Whatever…