An old friend and avid reader of this journal, a Mr Trellis of North Epsom, congratulated me today on my fame, and asked for a gift of £100. I pointed out to him that I saw my role as more of a help to the whole of humanity rather than specific individuals. As it, no doubt, behoves me to aid those less fortunate, if there are any readers with a problem of any sort on which they feel I can advise, then please feel free to ask. There are one or two subjects about which I know very little, but I do not see any reason why that should stand in the way of my giving advice. So come on then, whether you are troubled about the nature of human existence, or perplexed by your habitual return to read this kack, then do not feel intimidated by my towering intellect or insight into the human psyche.
3 comments:
I fear that I have developed this strange compulsion to read utter bullshit. I find myself inexplicably drawn to weblogs that are loaded with copious amounts of it. I fear there is no hope, I am no lost in a world of sarcasm and crap.
Good, sister, the first stage is the recognition of the problem. I will help by telling everyone what a dozy old moose you are, in that way you will be forced to confront your problem constantly. No need to thank me.
What you have been given is the ability to recognise and embrace bullshit, and glory in it. Very few are those who are so fortunate.
I feel the sudden need to purchase taller boots.
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