Friday, July 30, 2010

Gone Walking

Me and my pack will be traipsing somewhere in Europe for the next week or so.

No internet, no updates, no Sarah or Bristol Palin, no N.Y. Post, no morning cameltoe, no morning camel toe, no Sandra Bullock butt, no C.C. Sabathia's big pants, no inside jokes.

To my six loyal readers (you know who you guys are, I sure don't -- but the server statistics do not lie, you guys are out there), thanks! See you sometime in August.

For those of you that accidently stumble in here, I offer a few links to some better than average posts currently buried deep within the archival anarchy of blogspot:

My Thoughts on Patrick Swayze's Passing (with my dick) - Wherein my dick makes its first appearance on this blog -- as a guest writer.

Another Great Moment in Photoshopping History - Wherein I once again brag about my superior photoshopping skills. If you visit only one humorous post about William Howard Taft today, make it this post.

Our Trip to Latkeland and A George W. Bush Christmas Carol - Wherein I bravely make fun of all the major American religions that won't put out a fatwah on me.

My Dick Discusses Avatar 3D: The Nexus of Religion, Spiritualism and Boinking Aliens - Wherein my dick writes a post with a ridiculously long title.

My Dick Discusses the Winter Olympics - Wherein my dick begins my month long obsession with Women's curling and specifically the Dupont sisters of Team Denmark.

More Wall Street Journal Humor - St. Patrick's Day, Leprechaums, But No Irish Jokes Please - A good example of my life-long hatred of the Wall Street Journal and my ability to poke gentle fun at the Irish.

It appears that my dick has written most of the good posts on this blog. Not that surprising given that I have been accused of thinking with my dick more often than my brain likes to admit.

1 comment:

  1. Bobby,

    Traipsing, eh? Don't believe that I have ever traipsed myself. Interesting choice of a word.

    This post is the blogging equivalent of that very, special episode of Family Ties where the entire Keaton clan sat on the coach kibitzing while the producers ran old clips featuring the best of Tina Yothers.

    You traipse, I'll golf, see you in a couple of weeks.