Scribes
saurabh is a manic- depressive graduate student with delusions of
overturning well- established social hierarchies through sheer weight of cynicism. in his spare time he writes self-effacing auto- biographical blurbs.
dan makes things up casually, effortlessly, and often. Never believe a
word he says.
hedgehog burrows between San Francisco and other areas rich in roots and nuts. His father says he is a literalist and his mother says he is very smart. Neither of them say aloud that he should spend less time with blegs and more time out of doors.
Pollocrisy
Blegs
- scrofulous
- wax banks
- a tiny revolution
- under the same sun
- alt hippo
- isthatlegal?
- informed comment
- abu aardvark
- crooked timber
- bob harris
- saheli: the gathering
- john & belle have a blog
- red state son
- pharyngula
- critical montages
- living the scientific life
- pass the roti
- attitude adjustor
- pandagon
- this modern world
- orcinus
- a lovely promise
- ufo breakfast
- sabdariffa
- to do: 1. get hobby, 2. floss
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28 March, 2006
Spam redeems itself!
Today I got a spam e-mail with the following quote in it:
doesn't exist?'If you don't recognize this little tidbit, I order you to go forth and at once purchase for yourself a copy of The Master and Margarita, by Mikhail Bulgakov, which is my favorite book of all time. Wow! How cool is that? Maybe I'll receive the whole thing in little spam-snippets...
'Calm down, calm down, calm down, professor,' stammered Berlioz, frightened of exciting this lunatic. ' You stay here a minute with comrade Bezdomny while I run round the corner and make a 'phone call and then we'll take you where you want to go. You don't know your way around town, [after] all...' Berlioz's plan was obviously right--to run to the nearest telephone box and tell the Aliens' Bureau that there was a foreign professor sitting at Patriarch's Ponds who was clearly insane. Something had to be done or there might be a nasty scene.
'Telephone? Of course, go and telephone if you want to,' agreed the lunatic sadly, and then suddenly begged with passion:
'But please--as a farewell request--at least say you believe in the devil! I won't ask anything more of you. Don't forget that there's still the seventh proof--the soundest! And it's just about to be demonstrated to you!'
'All right, all right,' said Berlioz pretending to agree. With a wink to the wretched Bezdomny, who by no means relished the thought of keeping
Comments
Something, someone, somewhere, speaking to you. The Intelligent Designer, perhaps?
Posted by hedgedog
Posted by hedgedog
damn hedgehog, that's rather grandiose of you. i was thinking more like a secret admirer or a stalker. saurabh, maybe it's you-know-who sending you an invitation to his fancy dress party. time to get out the tuxedo and masque . . .
Posted by Saheli
Posted by Saheli