Friday, June 23, 2006

Obeying Blogging Conventions

And I don’t mean the type where people come from all corners of the world to discuss their hatred of Joe Lieberman. Frankly, when there’s always masturbation as an alternative, I find it hard to muster the enthusiasm to get interested in that kind of thing.

Blogger conventions, from what I can see, demand that I post pictures of my domestic pets, possessions, environment and slaves. Here is my attempt to mingle with the blogger crowd, in the hope that this will speed my acceptance as a leading political thinker.



This is my household pet. You are invited to agree that he is both cute and fluffy, although it remains unclear what his position is on proportional representation at Westminster.


This is a picture I took at Celtic Park, a large football stadium in Glasgow, Scotland. As you can see, this is a place where Scotsmen gather to sing songs, reminisce and pledge their allegiance to their homeland, the Republic of Ireland.



This is my pet Orang-utan, Clyde. Clyde is a big fan of beer and country music. He is a fourteen year old male, and is pictured here next to my friend and confidant, Clint Eastwood. Clint is in fine shape for a man of seventy-eight, appearing not a day older than forty-five in this picture, despite it having been taken only last week.



This is London, a town south of Scotland. Its original name, Londinium (Latin, literally “The land of ill-gotten wealth“) dates back to the year 48 A.D., when the Emperor Claudius led his legions across what we now call the English Channel to invade Britain. Moving north, he found a great city filled with ugly men selling each other trinkets out of suitcases, infuriatingly punchable spiky haired trendies yakking into wooden mobile phones and thousands of people wedged into small, shaking horse drawn carriages not looking at or talking to each other.


On the left is the Houses of Parliament, where the Great Leader Anthony Blair, Prime Minister of Great Britain, receives homage from his grateful subjects. On the right is South London, where the real debauchery goes on.


These are capybara. As flightless rodents, they do not possess any of my grace or élan, but they are good workers and can put in twenty hour shifts with only one ten minute break a day for some lettuce.

I will post further pictures of the tedious minutae of my life at a later date - this is not a threat, it is a promise.

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