Diesel powered
Few people are around to remember why I started writing this blog, and so if you were to ask what Whudda W.A.S.T.E. is actually supposed to be about...well, the answer just isn't that clear.
Obviously, the acronym itself suggests "we await silent Trystero's Empire" of Pynchon fame, but more than that... Well, is this supposed to be an embodiment of said postal system, or an embodiment of one of the stops along the way--one of those agencies that believe that they, and they alone, are using the underground postal system. The answer is the latter I think. I write by WASTE; I am not WASTE itself.
But if I am only peripheral to the greater WASTE system, then like the Peter Penguid society, Anamorati Anonymous, and the Republican party, I too must have some overriding purpose acted out in my communications--WASTE or otherwise. It is this purpose which has long been forgotten.
And not for want of trying. I have indeed endeavored to tailor each of my posts to this purpose, but unfortunately, like the radio station which endeavored to play only Led Zepelin, I have learned that there just isn't enough out there on my particular topic to create the number of blog posts I would hope to write on my chosen subject--I have metaphorically included Z Z Top to my arsenal. Case in point, very very few of my posts have actually approached the subject to which I feel inclined to describe, analyze, and celebrate. I have settled, for instance, on Tom Kaffafian as a strawman to the edifice which I would hope to dance about for the dearth of information at my disposal regarding my preferred alternative.
That is, until now... For finally, someone has essentially done my job for me, and thus relieved me of the burden of describing in detail the minutiae of relevant facts surrounding the subject of this blog in total. Freed, I may now speak of other things, which I have been doing, but now sans guilt.
God bless you, oh anonymous web designer, and if you need any help, don't hesitate to contact me. Write by WASTE.
Obviously, the acronym itself suggests "we await silent Trystero's Empire" of Pynchon fame, but more than that... Well, is this supposed to be an embodiment of said postal system, or an embodiment of one of the stops along the way--one of those agencies that believe that they, and they alone, are using the underground postal system. The answer is the latter I think. I write by WASTE; I am not WASTE itself.
But if I am only peripheral to the greater WASTE system, then like the Peter Penguid society, Anamorati Anonymous, and the Republican party, I too must have some overriding purpose acted out in my communications--WASTE or otherwise. It is this purpose which has long been forgotten.
And not for want of trying. I have indeed endeavored to tailor each of my posts to this purpose, but unfortunately, like the radio station which endeavored to play only Led Zepelin, I have learned that there just isn't enough out there on my particular topic to create the number of blog posts I would hope to write on my chosen subject--I have metaphorically included Z Z Top to my arsenal. Case in point, very very few of my posts have actually approached the subject to which I feel inclined to describe, analyze, and celebrate. I have settled, for instance, on Tom Kaffafian as a strawman to the edifice which I would hope to dance about for the dearth of information at my disposal regarding my preferred alternative.
That is, until now... For finally, someone has essentially done my job for me, and thus relieved me of the burden of describing in detail the minutiae of relevant facts surrounding the subject of this blog in total. Freed, I may now speak of other things, which I have been doing, but now sans guilt.
God bless you, oh anonymous web designer, and if you need any help, don't hesitate to contact me. Write by WASTE.
posted by Monstro D. Whale at
9:02 AM
5 Comments:
vin diesel is a sexy bitch.
You mean you aren't revealing secret code to overthrow the corrupt system that allows the postal service it's complete and utter domination of all facets of life from graduate student demonstrations, tanks, Warhammer 40 K, smogging your car in Amherst Mass, and the horrific splendor of The Candle Store??!!
Damn. I'm so disallusioned.
No wonder you haven't sent my whiffy pen and official goggles.
Send me back my check so I can use it to buy a new computer and Doom III so I can melt my brains in style.
I leave you with the following curse. May you have to drive cross country with a Driveling weirdo, besides yourself, and end up in Texas. I can think of no greater horror.
And Vin Diesel lost "sexy bitchhood" as soon as he was bitten by a duck.
Let's face it: Dissel or no Diesel, you at least provide a healthy change of pace from my usual shuffling through a fat deckful of days which seem (wouldn't I be first to admit it?) more or less identical.
I once had a friend named Brian. His blog was also called "Whadda W.A.S.T.E." He posted interesting stuff. But that was a long time ago. Now I think he sends all of his blog posts through some secret underground postal system.
Boy, that was some blog. Too bad the author just up and disappeared.
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