Saturday, June 02, 2007


Howdy, Peeps d’Elisson...howya doin’? I wish all of you a most pleasant Saturday night, and to all the Chosen Peeps out there, a happy Shavuoh Tov to you, too!

Boy, what an incredibobble honor that our hero, Elisson, tossed me a set of keys to the joint, although, I must admit to experiencing a good deal of performance anxiety after reading Mr. I’m Not Happy With My Level Of Creativity At the Moment’s Jimbo’s awesome interview with SWMBO. Very revealing stuff, there. Not everyday we are treated to such an unsettling glimpse into the psyche of the woman, married to a 54-year-old man still trapped within the regressive clutches of Freud’s Anal Stage of Development.

I tell ya, though, I am looking at my name sandwiched betwixt the current list of contributors to Blog d’Elisson, all of us recruited to try and mercilessly deride the Old Fart into exile share a kind word or two about a truly Heimishe Lantzman and good friend, while SWMBO drags Mr. Big Brains Smarty Pants Colander Boy kicking and screaming away from the freakin’ computer Mr. Debonair whisks SWMBO off to Cancun for a romantic, much-needed respite. It won’t be no cinch, but I think I am up to the challenge.

Looking around, I see Dave Bogner, a.k.a. treppenwitz; the butt-sex-obsessed Bloggy Faulkner Velociman; Hairboy Jimbo, who seems to have recovered nicely from his own recent Stindeen Roastage (goodness, what ill-willed evil tart would do such a thing?), and takes great joy, instead, in psychologically projecting onto his friends (very Jungian, that); and the fair and beardless Henry David Thoreau Eric, surely swinging carefree in a hammock, sipping some Macallan scotch and watching the leaves flitter gently in the wind. Ahhh, how lovely.

An awesome group of bloggers, indeed, with whom I am unworthy of sharing top billing with, but, I must say, what I also see, now that I’m looking around this place, is a big frickin’ mess. Gee whiz, Elisson...not f’nuttin’, you give some trusted peeps the keys to your digs and you don’t even think to pick up the place a bit? What gives, bro?

Not to get into a whole gantse megilleh here, but as an only child, and as a girl at that, I could tell you that I was mercilessly haggled with, hollered at, and blackmailed by my parents to get me to clean my room, which was, as you may rightly guess, almost always a losing battle. It wasn’t until I was forced into the role of adulthood (more or less) that I had to Take Matters Into My Own Hands, lest I meet the same fate as the doomed Collyer Brothers.

But you? A grown man?! For shame, Elisson. I’ve never seen such an unruly blogroll in the whole of my life. Why, were you to fasten all the rolls of toilet paper [unused, wiseass] in the world to one another other, which can then surely be wrapped around the entire circumference of Planet Earth more than a gazillion times, I’d still not be able to determine which of the two is longer - the TP links, or the length of your 335 blogroll links.

Yes, that’s right. I counted.

Tell me, Brother E...praytell, what on earth is the difference between the “Blogroll Buddies” and “Blogroll d’Elisson” sections of your football field-length blogroll? And then you have those under the heading “Other Blogs ’n’ Such” (one of which had a bizarre post I thought Hairboy would appreciate a gander at), two of which are powered by Bloglines, and the remaining four of which are powered by Blogrolling, followed by the “Catblogger Community,” some of which overlaps with the “Bloggers I’ve Met,” “Blogroll d’Elisson,” and “Blogroll Buddies” categories, not to mention the “Homespun Bloggers” part of the blogroll, followed by the “Miscellaneous Useless Crap,” barring the various buttons, pictures, flashy whorage, chotchkies, and ungepotchked bibbles, baubles ’n’ trinkets you slap up onto various locations of your blogroll. Jesus, they have 12 step groups for that sorta thing.


A peek inside the complicated Blogrolls d’Elisson

Oh, and did I fail to mention that when I click onto Blog d’Elisson, long after the page content has loaded, miles and miles of blogroll - longer than Princess Di’s wedding veil - is then ceremoniously unfurled, and the hyperventilating right-hand side of the page and scrollbar expand and contract with the disjointed wonky elasticity of the World’s Largest Coca-Cola Spit Yo-Yo, as the Blogger Oompa Loompa men inside my computer are forced to parade the Apocalyptic Blogroll of Bloggy Doom out for your Loyal Readers, which is executed with as much grace as poor Stephen Hawking trying to roll out the tarp, by himself, onto Shea Stadium’s infield during a torrential hailstorm.

Speaking of whorage, do you realize that your blogroll is more than three and a half times the length of your Literary Mahsterpiece, “Shorts in a Wad.” Amazing that you could condense “familiar characters and places, cringe-inducing puns, tender nostalgia, and the outright silly - all in baby steps of exactly one hundred words apiece,” yet your multitude of blogrolls spiral out of control like a Rabid Punch-Bowl Meme gone wild (OK, maybe that’s not such a great example).

What can I say, Blog Shem Tov? You have a helluva blog, but a Hell of a blogroll. Like our Yiddishe reggae-beat-boxing brother, Matisyahu, might say, “Chop ’em down!

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