For once – once, mind you, in the last 20 years or so – I have a picachewer of me that almost makes me look human. Instead of the claw-handed sallow internet Morlock that I truly am. Look ye. Look ye.
Yes, I know that I still look like a crack addict/hillbilly Wendigo, but that’s what ten years of poor to no sleep does for you.
Why is it here? Why now? Is it vanity?
Well, I am terribly vain - but that’s my problem, not yours. Hopefully.
No, the reason is that I plan to go all multimedia on you. Only ten years behind the rest of the Interwebsphere, I’m going to try out a podcast. For starters.
(Maybe a Half-life 2 webcomic or two, to boot. I’ve got Garry’s Mod, and there are only so many times you can launch Professor Kleiner from a makeshift cannon at a wall before you have to justify the cost to yourself. That would leave me only about five years behind the rest of you, wouldn’t it? Wouldn’t it? I’m trying to catch up, honestly.)
%5B3%5D.jpg "This isn'tme. It's Ken Clarke wearing a hat looking like Joss Ackland in the Always on my mind video")
It’s actually so you’ll be able to put a face to the voice (which has been likened to an angel’s fart) when you hear my Northern twang in full flow. Which is coming next. Which is coming soon. Be aware. Or beware, if you prefer.
It’ll probably be about Britain’s Got Talent. Unless something else irritates me more in the meantime, which is unlikely.
p.s. For Sweet Hairy Jesus’ sake, don’t go upping the gamma on the image. Not only will you see the dark shadows and huge bags under my eyes – but you’ll be able to make out the ghostly imprint of Thanatos’ hand reaching for me in the background. Hey, I’m near the halfway mark in my four score years and ten. I’d be elderly a millennia ago. Just remember that.
p.p.s. Yes, I do live inside a featureless magnolia cube. It’s not as bad as you’d think.
p.p.p.s. My face and voice are not CC licensed. They’re mine, I tell you, mine - and you can’t have them. Even if for some bizarre reason you wanted to.
p.p.p.p.s. I can do the Roger Moore eyebrow on both sides. How’s that for fucking talent, Britain?
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6 comments:
magney matey, I just dropped in to tell you that I'm not dead yet but if you have anymore dreams of my death that this time involve my demise at the hands of harem of horney, hairy, singing virgins & a vat of ice cream, please let me know so that I can at least see it coming and take the appropriate action to protect myself....I have started to carry a tube of lube,some raspberry syrup, a flake and a couple of ice cream cones....just in case.
Bye for now...see you on t'other side.
Peace & Light
Percy
Just to let you know I'm still reading, Mag mate.
Having just spent all morning (ok, maybe half an hour then) catching up on your astounding literary works, I'm back up to speed. At least for as long as I can maintain an interest in the internet, which I'm beginning to feel is so last century.
Take it easy, dude.
Bugger.
I spent 20 minutes writing a witty comment and your blog ate it.
And I'd acquired a proper Google blog dashboard so I didn't have to be Anonymous.
May I suggest that you get on with the podcast so that my life still has some meaning?
Yours, as ever, Chenier...
Eeee. There you are. But there you aren't at the same time. Gone but not forgotten.
Like a good-vibes Dr. Phibes, I have returned from the disconnectdead. Proof in an unpoetic post later today.
Gloria, eh? I trust that you are well. Not planning to baroque my world, are you?
Percy and Pablo (et al - I have to catch up and reorganise; like going back to the old comments method so that I can comment on my own bloody blog), thanks too for still chipping when it seemed like you were merely shouting into static.
Quite well, thank you kindly Mr Magnetite. You were gone for such a long time I stopped looking in. Although I am not planning to baroque your world, I may stop by once in a while. Cheers,
Glo
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