The Lost Blogs Page 18

  When the evening ended, I expressed these thoughts to Father, who agreed wholeheartedly. It seems he too found the whole situation to have ruined the mood of the dinner.

  Tomorrow I will return to brainstorming for what Wrigley’s next product shall be. I have some good ideas that I’d prefer to keep to myself for the moment—but will, as always, let you know as soon as the family is in agreement.

  From: http://www.attila_the_hun.com/blog/

  Subject: Attila, On the Road!

  So, yeah—I’m on the road. Doing my whole tour thing with my whole entourage supporting me while I do it. Kick-ass guys, really. They’ve totally got my back, ya know? They make this whole “on the road” thing totally doable.

  Well, we’ve been all over the place but we picked up and headed over to start our tour in Italy this last week ’cause it had been planned for a while now. And once something’s planned, you gotta keep that shit in line.

  Okay. Let me just say… I totally killed this week at Aquileia.

  By the time I was done with my whole routine in that city, literally no one was left standing—I had totally slayed them and the entire town! Totally kicked ass! The kind of success you can’t always count on, but the people of Aquileia, at least those who are even able to speak after my appearance there, well—they’d agree. I totally killed.

  Here’s some pictures of me and the guys standing near a crowd, all dyin’ for us.

  Don’t get me wrong, though—even before we did our thing at Aquileia, we razed the roof throughout most of Italy. I mean, at every single town, with every single group of townspeople—we did things up like crazy. Never a dry eye. Totally bowing down to me after I did my thang. Totally rocked their world.

  The groupies, you gotta believe, are coming out of the woodwork. What do you expect?! They hear about the tour, how I’m totally kicking ass, and they wanna hang with Attila and his boyz. I got women sending me rings, wanting to hook up, and BS like that. But no one stands a chance next to my latest conquest—this hottie named Ildico. I mean, she’s the kind of girl that’ll give you a nosebleed and cause you to choke to death she’s so hot. I’m thinkin’ that when we get back to the palace—another marriage may have to happen.

  Until then, you can keep checkin’ in here to see where we’re at—in case you wanna come down and join the party. Don’t forget—we got that mailing list that you can sign up for—we’ll let you know the next location we’re heading off to so you get a good head start on us!

  E-mail with questions.

  From: http://www.johannes_gutenberg.de/gutenblog/

  From: http://www.lewis_carroll.com/blog/

  Subject: Vanished

  Oscar, the oft-egotistical feline who would (I believe) much prefer a meal than my company, has vanished.

  Here is a picture.

  My poetry, seemingly suffering from the lack of moral support as provided by my partner in crime, has come to a standstill as I attempt to locate the mischievous little troublemaker. This is not, as I have written before, a surprising development. Often, Oscar has sat on the love seat beside my desk while I am attempting to squeeze blood from a stone. One second I can turn to him for advice, and the next moment he has completely disappeared into thin air.

  I often get up, spin around, and there he is yet again—smiling the widest grin imaginable without smiling whatsoever. I suspect it’s the whiskers, and the way in which they vibrate—much like the energy inside of all children. Oscar, it seems, has a little child inside of him as well.

  You may recall the riddles I posted last month which were sparked to my mind through an almost one-sided conversation with the little creature. My queries, the likes of which could never be answered by a normal everyday house cat, were answered in kind by the little creature—with facial expressions and nose twitches. To every question I posed, Oscar had another question to ask me. Never an answer. That is for sure.

  Yet tonight, the cat has gone completely missing. I checked outside and down the street past the pub but he is nowhere in the vicinity. For a moment, while perched out the front door at the street’s level, I could have sworn he appeared to me, yet the image was gone before I could comprehend it. The mind playing tricks, it seems—all when it comes to my little furry friend.

  I suspect he’s somewhere within a mile or two of the house, so I ask those reading to peruse the picture and keep an eye out for the smiling critter. If you find him, approach him cautiously and don’t ask him a thing. Just grab him and send a message to lewiscarroll@webtech.uk.

  I’m heading out now to look. More later.

  Update: As soon as I posted this message above, he appeared behind the couch. Strange, since I looked there before. Nonetheless—he’s safe and sound. Thank you!

  From: http://www.jack_kerouac.com/moblog/

  Subject: On the Road, Sort of…

  I’m on a road… but not the kind of road with strangers blindly speeding by towns and cities so fast that it’s all a blur, the kind of blur that life is when you don’t stop and open your eyes long enough to see what’s right in front of your face, which often isn’t much at all but it’s the discovery of realizing there’s nothing out there in front of your face that frees you from the lack of knowledge you had before you stopped to take a look…

  Neal Cassady and I hung last night and we emptied quite a few bottles and he started telling me that he’s leaving town, going on his own Odyssey of sorts, and just like any journey like that can’t be undertaken by just one man he wanted to know if me, yours truly, would join him on the adventure of a lifetime, and not to say this adventure would simply be the only adventure under such a heading but in fact the beginning of many adventures across this poverty-stricken, ego-controlled, powerless society of people all trying to break out of the bonds keeping them quiet and conservative and tired and clueless.

  Sigh. Tired. Fatigue. When Neal said such things to me I’d been ending three weeks straight sitting in front of the glowing screen over in the corner of my apartment, undertaking my own adventure of a lifetime in the digital sense—scouring the words and the images and the people who make up the entire landscape of the digital underworld which all comes streaming through a small wire and into my world and into the device which lights up the room and lights up my thoughts, for all I can think about is that I am here, alone, sitting at this monitor and gazing into it and their lives, and at the same time they are doing the same thing. But three weeks is not an entire lifetime, and how can one abandon such a quest to see everything there is to see after only three weeks of a journey? I had more to do, more to say and more to write, all through this digital journal and thereby interacting with the rest of the individuals communicating through their own one-way mirror. Hitchhiking across the country would take years compared to simply turning on the glowing technological marvel in the corner!

  Neal asked me again, this time more seriously, if I would accompany him “on the road” where we could experience the people and the sights and the sounds of the entire country. But as I told him, why go outside when you can sit right here in one place and see and hear the entire country without ever leaving the safety of one’s pad? There’s no reason to leave, no reason to venture out into the cold, dark world when sitting here provides all the same experiences, to which Neal asked “well, what about touching, the tactile feelings of real people” to which I responded “it’s completely bullshit” because I’ve touched more people than I care to remember, and now sitting here with this glowing screen before me, I have everything I could have ever wanted, and can have it all in less time than it takes to down a swig from this bottle I’m holding between my legs as I type this out to you right now.

  Neal left this morning for his journey. I’ll try to keep track of him on the road from here.

  I hope he got an e-mail address before he left.

  From: http://www.niccolo_machiavelli. fr/blog/

  Subject: To All My Closest Friends!

  YOU. Yes, YOU. Bubby.

>   Glad you came back to visit! Can I just say that I’ve been totally thinking about you lately and wondering when you’d be coming back!? You’re not just a number here on my stats page—you are one of the few who I care to see visit my blog. Someone I feel like I can talk to. You know? How do I know who you are? Only my closest allies know of this URL and so if you are reading this, we are totally thick as thieves. And thank God, because I have some things to get off my chest. To just my closest friends.

  Let’s talk about the Medici. You know, Lorenzo de’ Medici—back in power now in Florence after so much time has passed. Yours truly, and I don’t know if I mentioned this before, is no longer in a position to exercise my sharp political suggestions and insights. And you know what!? That’s a good thing for YOU and for ME, bubby.

  Here’s what’s up—I’m starting the Machiavelli Network! Haha, yeah, right!?

  Exciting, I know. You’re just desperate to know what it is, right!? Well, let me tell you before I ramble on much further. The Machiavelli Network is a closed, exclusive, online community for those who are my FRIENDS. So far, the Machiavelli Network has over 300 members, including some who are at the highest positions in the current government. (I must keep their names a secret, but I swear to the Lord this is true!)

  The more people we can get to join the network, the more sites who abandon their current Medici.com network and move over to the Machiavelli Network will find that it is a decision that is well worth making. We’re looking for people in influential positions in Italy—people who have power and respect who would be willing to express the opinions of the Machiavelli Network to those around them. No, we don’t want to pressure people to think like us—we just want everyone to be aware of the alternative point of view! Sure, if they agree with us, wonderful. But our goal isn’t to strong-arm anyone (like the other guys do). So… where do you come in, you ask? Simple.

  In order to join the Machiavelli Network simply send me the application fee (yes it’s sizable, but you’re going to get it back tenfold) and you’ll be immediately added to the exclusive network. Then, it’s up to you to get ten more people to join! Easy, I know! And here’s the best part…

  Each of those ten people… they pay you the same fee that you paid me. Already you’ve made ten times your money and added to the value of the Machiavelli Network! And each time one of those ten people gets another person to join, you get 25% of the fee they have to pay. You can do this from sitting at home on the farm—you can stop working period. Because after you get ten people to join, your only job will be to go and pick up the money that people are offering you.

  If we work together, we can make this the most powerful, politically influential network ever. I’m committed to it and to YOU, my very good friends.

  If you have any questions, feel free to submit a support ticket.

  By the way, I’m also working on a book. More on that later. But for now, thanks so much for stopping by, YOU. Love ya, bubby!

  From: http://www.vlad_the_impaler.com/dracula-blog

  Subject: Weekend Impaling in Transylvania

  ’Twas a busy weekend for the one and only Vlad III Dracul, Prince of Wallachia.

  It seems as though the killing of thousands of Turks, which yours truly Vlad III Dracul, Prince of Wallachia, oversaw over the last few weeks, made me generously feel for the people of Wallachia. For they had been denied the presence of me, Vlad III Dracul, for weeks on end, and as such it made them sad. So I returned, Prince of Wallachia, bringing smiles to their faces …

  Yet not every one of my loyal subjects was smiling, even though Vlad III Dracul was in their presence. There were some, poverty-stricken and ill, whose lives seemed in total disrepair. And so, the generous Vlad III Dracul, Prince of Wallachia, gathered them together for a wonderful meal in my great hall. The unproductive, the ill, the hungry, the handicapped were all welcome! And I was there, too—Vlad III Dracul, Prince of Wallachia! The great wise leader of Wallachia! They ate and drank without a care!

  I asked them if they wished to never have to worry about anything ever again—to be without a care in the world. Their response, of course, was that of enthusiasm. I promised I could give them such relief.

  Then I had my men lock up the hall and light it on fire. Hehehehehehe! Let no man say that Vlad III Dracul, Prince of Wallachia, is a leader without humor!

  More of the same on Saturday—lots of impaling to get through. Gosh, I suspect we impaled at least forty-three people around town. As I type this, I’m looking down and out of Poenari Castle—at the edge of the city there stand hundreds of people impaled on huge wooden staffs. And, I have to be honest as I look at the sight before me…

  It’s just not symmetrical. Doesn’t seem even to me.

  I have told my men a THOUSAND TIMES, that if they cannot arrange these impaled individuals in some sort of shape that is pleasing to look at, I… Vlad III Dracul, Prince of Wallachia, will be the laughingstock of Romania! A square, a circle, some kind of triangle. A dodecahedron. Whatever. But when I spy a few impaled people on sticks way off to the side of nowhere near the others, it makes my blood boil. I may just have to impale the impalers if they don’t show pride in their work. I’ll hire new impalers to impale the current impalers who can’t impale to save their lives!

  That’s the problem—you hire these people to impale other people and before long they’re not looking where they shove the sharpened staff… Sometimes the bodies fall off the staff because of the shoddy workmanship of the impalers… I don’t know—I think Vlad III Dracul needs to remotivate these men to do a better job.

  Sunday, I signed up for a Gutenblog. No ink required, they say. I suspect I will be using this on a daily basis to inform you of my wonderful ideas, intelligent thoughts and future plans for our cities and towns.

  From: http://www.malcolmX.edu/blog/

  Subject: What Brought You Here and Why You Should Now Leave

  It is quite obvious to me that my brothers and sisters who are involved in our cause to take back our freedom have no trouble finding their way to this blog.

  Unfortunately, there are many who find their way here by accident, who should never be here in the first place, and who I urge to remove themselves as quickly as they arrive—their visits are a result of these recent searches:

  Malcolm XXX

  Xtra Tuna, Please

  Why does X mark the spot?

  X-Rated Panthers

  Freedom from X-Rays

  Big X, Little X

  Is Lamb good for you?

  X-men comic #1

  Who is Racer X?

  How to treat mosque bites?

  If you have found your way here through any of the above search strings or any others that do not involve Malcolm X. Muslim Mosque. Inc. or The Organization of Afro-American Unity you are in the wrong place.

  From: http://www.john_wayne.com/blog/

  Subject: What’s in a Name?

  Marion isn’t a girl’s name.

  You may or may not know that Marion is the name I was born with. Marion became “Duke,” which became “John Wayne.” But Marion is still the name on my birth certificate and on a bunch of my official documents, and personally I don’t think that the name “Marion” sounds female at all.

  Now, if you’re talkin’ about Marian with an “an,” that is definitely a girly-sounding name. Or Marione with an “one” at the end—yes, I can see where a person with that should probably be wearing an apron and cooking dinner for her husband. And even Maryione or MaryAnne or Marionne. Girly, girly, girly.

  But Marion is totally a macho guy’s name. It is. I mean, look at it. I’ve written it out hundreds and hundreds of times on a piece of paper, just to practice it… you know? And it looks like a man’s man kind of name. It’s the kind of name that fits a cowboy or a soldier or a hero. You know? “Oh my gosh, that man just killed a hundred Nazis and saved my life!” “What was his name!? All I know is his first name—Marion!” “Yes. It IS a very masculine name!”


  I think you catch my drift.

  So, a lot of people have been writing in asking why I changed from one pretty macho heroic name to John Wayne. Did you ever stop to think that Marion and Wayne are sort of the same? The change isn’t that different. If you just pronounce the “on” at the end of Marion, and the “ne” at the end of Wayne—yes, I think you’ll hear it! The same sound to the names. However, the name “John Wayne” is better for Hollywood, but not because the name Marion is girly or that I don’t like the name. I love the name. It totally fits who I am. Sometimes, I even use the name myself when I’m just sitting around somewhere just to show them that I’m not embarrassed by the name.

  “Marion would like a beer, please.” And then they give Marion a beer.

  Besides, why would I even write all of this about my really great first name if I was embarrassed by it? It’s a great name, really it is. Seriously. It totally is.

  My parents were smart. That’s the plain honest-to-God truth. They picked a good one for a guy like me, and that’s why I’ll never change my birth certificate or any official documents when it comes to my name. (Besides, I’ve checked—you can’t change that stuff anyway, so it’s not worth worrying about.)

  Now, just ’cause I’m okay with the name doesn’t mean you can start calling me that. It’ll just get confusing, so we’ll stick with John Wayne or Duke or The Duke or The Biggest Star in American Cinema. Just not Marion.

  Okay? Okay.

  From: http://www.copernicus.de/blog/

  Subject: READ THIS!! LOOK NOW! EARTH NOT CENTER OF UNIVERSE!!

  IF YOU READ THE ABOVE SUBJECT LINE YOU NOW KNOW THAT THIS INFORMATION I HAVE RECENTLY BECOME AWARE OF IS OF EXTREME IMPORTANCE TO ALL IN THE ENTIRE WORLD!!!! THIS INFORMATION MUST BE PASSED FROM ONE TO ANOTHER UNTIL EVERYONE IS IN POSSESSION OF THE INFORMATION!! OTHERWISE, I FEAR THAT SUCH INFORMATION MAY NEVER FIND ITS WAY TO THE PUBLIC.