Friday, March 03, 2006

d3fr0sted me@t and rec0nstitooted veg3tables 

everthing you need to know about:
... frozen mammoths - part 2 - The admiral and the mammoth [...and...] THE FLIGHT TO THE LAND BEYOND...

and also: hopefully, soon come, the search for the Nazi Flugscheiben, the Spear of Destiny (not that cheap rusty arrowhead in St. Peter's Basilica neither), and the mysterious South Pole getaway at Base 211!

Yes, sure. And if you think all that is awful fuckin' weird (and believe me it is) well then you need to train your magic eye on the link above for continuing important scientific updates. I've been studying science which means I'll be wandering off soon to bath in a Vrilspring with a spotted fawn and a cotton mill girl.

Because I love cotton mill girls. Now you're touching home with me. Plenty of folks do too. listen.

"When I die don’t buy me at all
Just hang me up on the spinning room wall
Pickle my bones in alcohol..."

Hopefully that'll git me to first base on a line drive over second with 2 strikes, no balls and not one out - not yet at least - in the top of the first.

You might even think this is all part of an important secret coded message from CENTCOM. Perhaps a psychic yoo-hoo to the Aldebarans. You might even be right. But then again, probably not. In any case: Never underestimate the power of what might appear - or not appear - to be nonsense.

esto perpetua



Far out on the desert to the north dustspouts rose wobbling and augered the earth and some said they'd heard of pilgrims borne aloft like dervishes in those mindless coils to be dropped broken and bleeding upon the desert again and there perhaps to watch the thing that had destroyed them lurch onward like some drunken djinn and resolve itself once more into the elements from which it sprang. Out of that whirlwind no voice spoke and the pilgrim lying in his broken bones may cry out and in his anguish he may rage, but rage at what? And if the dried and blackened shell of him is found among the sands by travelers to come yet who can discover the engine of his ruin? ~ Cormac McCarthy Blood Meridian

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