11.25.2003

ahem...

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN...THE CUNTS ARE GONE! THE CUNTS ARE GONE! THE MOTHERFUCKING CUNTS ARE MOTHERFUCKING GONE!!!!! Of course there shall be a beautiful party and there will be a quiet moment during which the lights shall be dimmed and everyone present shall recount their fondest memories of said Motherfucking Cunts. Possibly candlelit...? Everything is love.

11.24.2003

Prepare yourselves...I have created....

Puppyhands
( or how could one so simple be misunderstood
by Guido Paparazzi


Every time he enters a room it glows with the heat of an oven filled with baking bread.
His smile is as bright and as volatile as a million exploding suns.
The light from his eyes pierces your soul and that of at least four people standing behind you.
His heart is a big as a country and could easily cause a giant to throttle if he tried to swallow it.
His presence makes peoples’ lungs and duodenums explode with sheer joy.
His books are full of paper, covered in words.
His shoes are full of feet, with toes.
His love melts butterflies.


All of these things are important and beautiful, like him.
All of these things are valueless and pock-marked.
Because of his hands.

Because of his hands which make infants giggle, toddlers cavort and all concurrent developmental stages gibber and become engorged.


He has Puppyhands.
And because of this he is exalted, reviled, vilified, scorned and magnificent.
His hands.
His Puppyhands.
His barking, drooling, nuzzling, urinating, defecating, loving Puppyhands.
The more he is loved.
The more he is unloved.
His hands smell of Puppies.
A silent tear spilled from his eye onto his furry, yipping, growling hands.

11.20.2003

So it's bad, but not as bad as it could be...although it might be goodin a different way soon......

Well, Phil came up as planned and I poked his eyes the moment I saw him (as a sign of non-menace and as a calmative gesture). He laughed, I laughed, he bled, we drank grog. It was delightful. However…what was NOT delightful in any way was Onikage’s LACK of communication with me. I ordered him to come back for this meeting and he never showed up. I later found the ninja I sent to Onikage with the message DEAD, missing all his vital organs and stuffed with feces. Whether or not the feces belonged to Onikage…I cannot say. Luckily, Phil seemed to take this news well, almost too well…hmm. On a different page, Phil’s friend Denise the Butcher has come to live in the Ninja city of New York (yes, it’s the same as regular New York, but since I am head of the Tenchu ninja, I call it the Ninja city of New York). She is a very skilled killer, an expert in destroying a man’s spirit before his actual body, a true master when it comes to pain. Anyway, back to this Onikage debacle…I am investigating but I fear the worst….from the rumors and information my ninja have gathered…I think this ninja revolution is real and worst of all it seem as if Onikage, one of the most dangerous ninja in this world is leading them. In other worlds though…something good is about to happen and I will be sure to explain all about that soon…just keep your fingers crossed and kill a virgin for my good luck….