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? A whole book full of my faces?
You’re my favorite visitor!

Pnårp’s docile & perfunctory page

Here I froze and here I died

Dubstepped on July 8, 2012.

Once again, I had died.

Floating through empty space without so much as a single gnome-built rocket ship to my name, I had died. I had had a rocket ship, mind you—one of the finest rocket ships ever constructed by a teeming horde of gnomish lackeys, minions, and henchmen. But in a desperate bid to patch two ¼"-sized holes that had been blown in the hull by a micro-meteoroid, I had made one small mistake, then a slightly larger one which built upon the first, and then another, and another—until the final gaffe that I made was so embarrassingly enormous that it resulted in the total loss of my entire rocket ship. And thus I ended up floating freely in outer space, drinking hard vacuum, as my now-airless ship rocketed away toward the Bagel Nebula and left me behind.

So here I floated, a single light year from my destination, the Bagel Nebula. My ship would arrive at the nebula in 818⅛ ANSI standard moments, but here I would be. Here I was: Here I froze, and here I died.