Eight years
Anniversed four days before March 11, 2007.
This Wednesday, between putting down rebellions and stamping out dissent wherever it cropped up, I was able to celebrate the eighth anniversary of the creation of this website.
Yours truly has come a long, long way since that day in 1999, eight years ago, when he sat down at his virus-infested computer to pen those immortal words: “The stars scream at me, but why? I think about it. I see his face. The stars again. Once, when I was writing something about this, a large blue speck appeared on my monitor and I was forced to shoot the damned thing.” I finally discovered what that blue speck was, just this last Monday: An improvised explosive device cleverly planted by a team of Westphalian Schmongeling Gnomes—an abortive assassination attempt against Phillip I. But, not to worry, I dealt with them harshly, as any good despot would do: I rounded up all the otters in Bouillabaissia and executed them.
It was eight years ago, too, that I had the epiphany that the letter P is an amazingly asymmetrical letter. It is completely asymmetrical: Top-to-bottom, left-to-right, and diagonally—however you slice it, you get no symmetry there, folks. None whatsoever. This profound fact has never been far from my squishy pinkish mind these entire eight years. Further study of this fascinating letter has revealed that it may in fact be symmetrical in the fourth dimension, but how to express such a “hyper-P” on paper has so far eluded me. But one day, I shall solve it (between torturing and executing gnomes, of course).
And the animal feces in the garage—what memories. And the Englebee Troobles, those elusive creatures I spent years questing after and never found—not really, anyway. And Alyssa Milano and her delectable feet. And Jennifer Love Hewitt, and Regina Maria-Theresia Louisa Ilsa Ollanthorpe, the Countess-Prelate von Sträsmussenbörg, and her daughter, and her geese… and all five of the luscious Spice Girls. It’s been an interesting eight years, from the exhilarating highs of captaining my own seafaring vessel, to the despairing depths of psychosis, insanity, and hallucination. The insanity was the best part. And in some ways, it’s never ended.
Pwee, pwee, pwee! I’m off to oversee another execution! This one’s is gonna be with a guillotine! Ta-ta for now, boys and girls!