| Greedy,Greedy,Greedy |
08-31-2004 05:44 PM |
A Message of Hope
Quote:
Originally posted by Shape Shifter
As some may have noticed, there has been some controversy involving the board lately. Many times it is easy to get bogged down in immediate issues and we begin to lose focus on what's really important. Recent events have caused me to reflect on what is truly important on this board: cock rings, double anal, TITS!, shavey bouncers, paigow [sniff] and penske [sniff], spinsters and cougars, bottle-knocking frat cats, my beautiful beautiful penis, and more TITS! And sometimes politics.
Yes, this board is an invaluable forum to discuss the pressing issues of the day. Like any hit production, much of the work, from mopping the floors to flipping the socks, takes place offstage, out of the eyes of the adoring public. So I would like you all to join me in thanking those benign dictators, my Adminions, who work so hard for the sole reward of making us happy.
Take leagl, Admin Emeritus and Jewish Lesbian Activist Pornographer, our own Al Goldstein. Thank you, leagl, for your outstanding, selfless service. We will always think of the children because of you.
And then e/o, though semi-retired, we will always remember you for your brutally efficient, ruthless sock busting and genre-inspiring ass. And your after-acl sex parties. Thanks (I think), e/o!
Then we have the beautiful and talented RT, the icing of calm on a cake in the stormy gravy boat ocean of lawtalkers. You are the lighthouse that lights our way through the darkness of the gravy and onto the smooth fluffy mashed potatoes on the plate of home-cooked goodness that . . . well, anyway, thanks RT!
MR. What to say about MR? I really don't know what he does, but he probably does something. Thanks, MR, for whatever the fuck it is that you do!
And then there's slave. Ah, slave. The last time I saw him, he was drinking rhythmicgymnastinis on Death Disco Night at Mission. He was standing at the bar between Granty Panty and Spencer Product. Even among the glitterati on the hippest night in the hottest bar in the most fashionable city the world has ever known, he shined brighter than the morning sun on a 7 a.m. hangover. I could just barely make out the conversation.
"I don't see why anyone even cares about this British stuff,"
said Spencer condescendingly. "Why anyone cares about a country whose great contribution to culture is FHM and Maxim is beyond me."
"Duh. Collin Farrell, helloooo!" giggled Granty.
The hurt I felt upon seeing him was immediate. I would have avoided him altogether in the slim hope of finding someone more attractive than he to make out with in front of him, but even on the hippest night in the hottest bar in the most fashionable city the world, there were no suitable prospects. Left with the shame of knowing I'd been publicly dumped so he could bugger a tiger, and an inbred mutant one at that, I contemplated leaving.
Then our eyes locked. His piercing gaze penetrating through my very existince. I was powerless to move as he sauntered my way.
"Sorry it had to be like this," he said.
"But I thought we had something," I pleaded. "I thought we were soulmates!"
"We were, but my soul changes with the season and you lost yours to the pawn shop. Cheer up. We'll always have that night in the frat. Take care, shape. You look like shit."
He tousled my hair and I watched through tears as he disappeared on the dance floor. Then it occurred to me that some beings are too great to be horded by one individual like a piece of gum, they must be shared, like music or really good weed. And that made me feel better.
Then I went outside and keyed his car. That made me feel even better.
Thanks for putting up with us, slave.
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What a reflexive suck-up. |
