A Cult of Multiple Personalities
From the category archives:
And it came to pass that when the storm of voting subsided, a winner emerged from the soggy ruins of digital democracy to claim his crown and the due honor that accompanied it.
And the people rejoiced, for they had secretly feared that the voting might continue unto their children and their children’s children and their [...]
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We interrupt your previously scheduled Anniversary Celebration to bring you the following Urgent News Development:
Doctor Harold Toboggans has been found.
After an unexplained six-month absence, self-renown psychologist and internet racketeer Harold toboggans was spotted by several witnesses today at a Memphis area park…
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At breakfast this morning I found a hair in my oatmeal.
A full mustache delicately floating in my bowl
Clearly, it is a sign. Somewhere, somehow, in some thoroughly obnoxious way, Doctor Harold Toboggans in on the move…
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After a long time of holding out faith, hope, and various restraining orders, it appears that Doctor Harold Toboggans is finally and truly gone.
Even the renowned Memphis Psychiatric Recovery Team has called off their search and concentrated their efforts instead on comforting his former clients during their time of grief and newly reclaimed cash flow…
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I would like to take this opportunity to welcome myself back to my own blog after my cruel and all too usual sentence of domestic servitude.
Having paid several installments upon my debt to society, Camille the Hot Comma Momma has seen fit to parole me, not so much out of any sense of clemency I suspect, but rather to meet with certain humor-thirsty Comma-addicts, address their needs, and with any luck inspire them to recovery, wholeness, and life outside our front yard…
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Nightlife
by Brent on May 20, 2008
in Commentary, Fiction
I entered the establishment off a crowded thoroughfare. The place was dark, only the occasional splash of illumination painting the stark white walls. The scent of teenage aftershave mingled freely through the sparse crowd.
Music, blunt and pulsating, saturated the air like a rhythmic fog, filling every breath, every pore, with barometric waves of insistence…
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