December 20, 2005
i shouldn't do this
I ought to just ignore this silly bastard, but I don't always do what I should. Did you ever have a scab that you just couldn't keep from picking at? Even when you told yourself to leave it alone, that it would go away by itself if you just stopped fucking with it? Well, the "desert dingleberry" is kinda like that scab to me.
It doesn't help matters when the dingleberry keeps being run over by a wheelchair. I know there's no real sport to following in Denny's tire-tracks, but I can't help myself. It's like seeing a horrible car wreck and being unable to avert my gaze. The dingleberry's blog is so bad that it's morbidly fascinating.
He got purple prose: "The usual assholes are publicly pooping purple twinkies..."
He got ethnic cents of humor: "Why did the Polish Electrician wire an Indian outhouse for electricity? He wanted to be the first to “wire a head for a reservation.”
He got wisdom and a heart full of love: "In spite of a half-assed attempt to shut my server down by a few psycho bloggers, I am still here. In fact I have more return visitors than ever."
"More return visitors than ever?" I don't doubt it. The first time I saw Freddy the Monkey Boy at the Coastal Empire Fair, I went back to see him again, too. It was worth another 25 cents to watch Freddy shit in his hand and fling feces around his glass cage.
I think Freddy writes that blog.
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