Hey, Andrew Ian Dodge! How’s the Moonbat scene up there in Fogtown?

Yesterday the following email for my band G.o.D. came into my in-head PDA/phone system.”We, the Astoroid Protection League protest the exploitation of asteroids. We deplore the actions of the Simon Asteroid Mining Company and call on all Asteroidalists to take direct action against the violation of mother universe. “ It continues: “asteroids are not there for the exploitation of man but are there to spread good-will around the universe.” Then there was a paragraph blaming this all on the Zionists of the Moon and George Bush X111. It concludes with a warning that we might just be harming unknown life.

Sounds like there’s some space cadets lurking the Underground these days. Gonna make this into a song?

No Exit


Toby spent all afternoon eating popcorn, peanuts, and cotton candy at the county fair.
Watching the clowns tumble and joke under the big top, the midway feast now wanted out.
As she ran for the exit, a spotlight shone on her and the ringmaster grabbed her hand.
“Let me go,” she said.
“Ever rode a horse?” he said, grinning. “I’m hung like one.”
The crowd roared, the world spun, and Toby heaved up everything she’d ever eaten.
She woke up in a pile of hay, covered with clown makeup.
The ringmaster turned out to be hung more like a shrimp.



Despite the best efforts of the best doctors in the world, Jenny needed a new liver. I’d give her mine, but it wasn’t enough of a match.
For a million dollars, Rico said he could get one that would be a perfect match.
I sold everything and gave the money to Rico.
It was barely enough.
Within hours, a medical cooler was being rushed to the hospital. In it was Jenny’s new liver.
The hospital paged the transplant team, and they all rushed in.
Except for the lead surgeon. He’d already arrived in the morgue hours ago.
Without a liver.



Andrew Ian Dodge has a story about the politics in the UK…

As I probably said before politics in the UK are getting rather odd. First we have Lib-Dems going into rapid meltdown; as first they lose an alky leader only to lose a leadership candidate with a penchant for scat. Not to be outdone the Tories are rapidly convincing everyone they aren’t Conservatives. They have done this so well that Rupert Murdoch has expressed his doubts in Cameron. Murdoch doesn’t like Blair either. We can expect the Sun’s headline next election to be They’re all rubbish! Vote Raving Loony! Alas Screaming Lord Sutch isn’t around to lead his party to victory!

Ah, yes. Too bad that every party here in the US is filled with loonies.
Greedy loonies.



Piper has a long, pretty tail.
When she gets mad, she growls and swats at it. I suppose this is better than her swatting and attacking the other cats. Or me.
If she’s about to pounce on something, she wiggles it before she leaps.
She sticks it in her mouth and walks in circles when she wants attention.
She’ll do this on top of the fence every so often, even if it is raining.
As I type this story, Piper is sitting on the back of my chair, gently tickling my ear with her tail.
Tails are very useful things.



On a site that’s full of crap, Andrew Ian Dodge talks about scat…

In politics one expects to get shat on every now and then. It is expected that the excrement will strike the ventilation device at times. Mark Oaten MP likes it; quite literally. He is not humiliated enough to be in party that will never be in government. No doubt some of the more curious of you hearing this have opened an email or “stumbled” on a scat site. Oaten used to be a shadow cabinet member and very recently a candidate for the leadership of the Lib-Dems….now he is bringing the shit down on his own party. Well; shit happens.

Kinda makes you wonder about Scatman Crothers.



Palmer killed the captain, knocked out gravity, fried the radio, and nearly blew the drive core before we stopped him.
The crew wanted him dead, but I insisted on a trial. Procedure is procedure.
It didn’t take long, though. Guilty of murder and mutiny.
Minor problem: the lawbooks were seriously out of date.
Punishment was still death by drop-hanging.
“Can we yank on his legs to choke him?” asked Victor.
“Nope,” I said. “No weights. Free drop.”
Palmer laughed at us. “String me up and leave me there for a day,” he said. “That’s the law.”
So we did.