The Lost Blogs Page 7

(Disclaimer: The author is not directly responsible for providing said “circles of Hell” to the purchaser upon checkout. Such “circles of Hell” are not located in the physical universe and cannot be guaranteed to materialize upon completing the transaction. Author does, however, guarantee that if said customer can aspire to each of the above Hell-like categories referenced above, they can be 99% sure that upon leaving the material world they will indeed visit said “circles of Hell.”)

  No refunds or credits. No guarantees.

  Hell may not be as hellish as previously suggested.

  Hell may not be engulfed in flames.

  “Owning Hell” is a play on words.

  “99%” may, in actuality, be closer to 11%.

  From: http://www.maewest.com/sex_blog/

  Subject: For My Male Fans…

  You know what I always say, boys—a hard man is good to find! So why not contribute to making more boys bad?

  My official webcam is now up and running… for your pleasure and mine. And from the hits so far, all I can tell you is that there are so many men and so little time to, well, do something with them all. I hope you enjoy it—all of me, for all of you! (As for my female fans—I hope you enjoy it just as much if not more than the boys!)

  Thanks to all who have written letters in support of me after I was arrested while performing my off-Broadway play Sex. By now you probably know that the police shoved me into a jail cell for ten days… But I got out in eight days. Two days early for good behavior they say.

  Good behavior, huh? Try bad behavior. Being a bad girl is what got me outta the slammer so quick. Those lonely guards. Stuck all day guarding bad criminals. I showed them a really really bad girl and it made their day. I woulda stayed ten more days if they’d let me, but you can imagine no one was gettin’ any work done!

  Since I’ve been back, I’ve been writin’ another show. I ain’t quite sure what the exact story’s gonna be about, but I know for sure that I want it to include the following elements:

  Sex

  Have you checked out my pictures yet? This week I uploaded pictures of yours truly at the beach, playing cricket (you’ll see how it’s really done) and a little bit of strip poker with some of the boys down at the ol’ watering hole. Strip poker’s gotta be my favorite game ’Cause when you lose… you really win!

  I’ll be back tomorrow with details of my night out with two men at once! Double the pleasure… for them, of course.

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

  Subject: Speaking Out Against the Offenders

  The problem has reached a critical point in our nation. All across this country, the offenders laugh in the face of what is right and what is just. As senator, in addition to my other successful missions, I have decided to take on yet another in an attempt to serve my country as they elected me to do.

  It’s about time someone took on these bloggers who refuse to put a picture of themselves on their blogs. And that someone is me.

  That’s me.

  In a time where alliances to this country are questioned at every corner, where Communists can be found in PTA meetings and the workplace—hiding and plotting… Isn’t it time that all dishonest individuals be brought to justice?

  If you have a blog and you do not have a picture of yourself on that blog—you are lying to the American public. You are hiding who you are. You are keeping secrets from those who look for information in a public forum. You must be stopped.

  Therefore, I have decided that it will be my job to confront each and every blogger who erects their own blog and affixes them with images of animals, patterns, icons, colors, pictures heavily changed in graphic editing programs, and/or no images at all. If you are a person, with an honest agenda, then your face should be seen.

  Isn’t it ironic, that those without pictures often combine their lack of identity with potentially subliminal messages layered into dated MIDI songs in the code of their pages? Isn’t it suspicious that those without pictures often talk more emphatically about the political system and how it refuses to work for their anonymous selves? Isn’t it amusing that those without pictures also misdirect e-mails to mailboxes that cannot be traced back to who they are?

  The practice must stop. And I will be sure that it happens.

  If you know anyone—friends, family, co-workers or siblings—who is currently using a blog or webpage and has not included an honest representation of who they are, you can send me an anonymous tip and my office will investigate them in due time.

  We will address these issues along with finding a way to deal with those who post pictures from their vacations or provide links to photo albums that no one has previously expressed interest in. Such practices are obviously a cover—a way to force one’s negative ideals onto other innocent Americans.

  Fight with me! E-mail me.

  From: http://www.blogger.com/~louis_pasteur/

  Subject: …

  Qwertyuiop[]ASDFGHJKL;”

  Zxcvbnm,./

  Excuse me—it was necessary to clean off the keyboard prior to using it.

  ‘1234567890-=

  Sorry, didn’t get the top layer of the keyboard.

  So, the discussion yesterday centered around how spores attach themselves to dust and enter our households, thus infecting our lives with germs. I originally had a diagram which I had readied for this site, but unfortunately it become contaminated by the canine, and had to obviously be burned immediately.

  Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

  Again, I apologize. The “r” key had more than its share of dirt caked onto the top layer of its surface. Using a cleansing agent I believe I’m now working with a fully sanitized keyboard.

  I’ve received quite a lot of correspondence lately from those of you as concerned as I am about keeping the devices we use to communicate as free of germs as possible. In doing so, I would like to provide you with this link to a blank white page. This will allow you to see if there is any offending dirt or dust invisibly hiding from your human eyes. Of course, spores are too small for the human eye and so the only way in which to determine if your workspace is cluttered by such evil particles is to take the following steps:

  Cover your entire device in an oversized plastic bag.

  Secure a filter at the end of said oversized plastic bag.

  Suck air from the plastic bag, through the filter.

  Examine the filter.

  If said filter is filled with spores (which you will need a microscope of some kind to determine), then your computer has been affected by dust spores. Such spores may or may not be noxious, but in order to be safe you should do what I always do … Assume the worst. Dispose of the computer immediately.

  Germs are everyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy (sorry, “y” key was still dirty)… are everywhere.

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

  Subject: Happened Again!

  I was on the way home tonight with my wife, Bess, from yet another one of my bird shows. Yes, “The King of Birds” show, once again, brought down the house. Bess, as always, did a wonderful job as my assistant… always on her toes, as my trademark “doves vanish in midair” is a tricky one to handle (that’s all I can say, don’t want to give away any of the secrets!).

  At around sundown, we arrived home to find that we were (once again) locked out of the house.

  Bess always ribs me about this, and didn’t let up tonight with her this is the fifteenth time you have forgotten the keys, Ehrich spiel, and no matter what I tried (jiggling the lock, kicking it with my foot, trying to loosen the hinges)—there was no giving. No solution.

  It was mildly comical if you picture the situation. Me in my stage costume, Bess in hers. Cages of birds stacked by the dozens. A dark night sky. And there we were, for (yes, it’s true) the fifteenth time… locked out of our home.

  After calling the locksmith we eventually found our way in (would I be writing this sad little entry now if that wasn’t the case?) and settle
d in at a much later time than we had previously expected. The whole experience has got me thinking, of course, that maybe the life of a locksmith isn’t that bad. In a way, it’s somewhat magical, the way the tumblers and the locks work in unison to unlock a door. The way one man, with just his hands, can free the bonds of any steel structure.

  Quite astounding if you ask me. I could have watched the locksmith for hours—yet for him, it only required a mere thirty seconds.

  Fast and amazing. Life’s true magician!

  From: http://www.polofamily.com/~marco/

  Subject: Lost in China

  Hello, again!

  Last week I spoke about the greatest honor in all of my journey thus far, with Father and Uncle Maffeo, when the Kublai Khan made me his official emissary for when we return to Rome. In the meantime, I have detailed some of the amazing cultural differences of China, from their chop-sticks (two staffs of wood, for eating!), the amazing Great Wall, and my favorite by far—the tea. No tea tastes better on the tongue, as you will all experience when my family returns to Venice where we shall share our discoveries.

  A funny and harrowing story to share:

  A few nights ago my father, Niccolo, was invited to a meal hosted by the Khan—and instructed to bring his brother and son to the festivities. We were happy, as usual, to attend, as it provided us the opportunity to continue to learn and experience the culture here in China.

  After a wonderful dinner, I excused myself to explore the elaborate gardens out behind the palace—twisting branches and flowers, rising high above my head and forming walls on all sides. They twist and turn like two snakes intertwined, yet I made my way further into them, as my mind was not concerned with where I was, but what I saw. You can imagine my surprise when I found myself lost. I tried, of course, to find my way, but was met with impasses at every corner. Eventually, of course, I sat down and waited. And waited. And waited. Then suddenly I heard:

  “Marco!?”

  The voice echoed throughout the night sky—it was, of course. Uncle Maffeo.

  I yelled back, “’Tis I, Polo!”

  “Marco!?” the voice came back again, echoing…

  “Polo!” I yelled. Could he not hear me?

  “Marco!!!” my uncle yelled again, this time seemingly closer.

  “Here!” I yelled. “Polo!!!”

  The two of us might as well have been in a dark cave or the murky underwater depths of the ocean for that matter—blind to each other’s face, the simple yelling of our names never close to providing the solution.

  This must have gone on until the morning light, when Maffeo asked for assistance in which to navigate the guarded pathways and finally located me.

  It was, to say the least, a less than entertaining event that I would never wish upon any individual, young or old.

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

  The Official W. C. Fields

  Weblog

  YOU MUST BE

  18 OR OLDER

  TO ENTER

  ENTER EXIT

  (Seriously, no kids.)

  (Not even with your parents’ permission.)

  (I mean it.)

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

  Subject: Today’s Official Declaration

  A milestone in the history of these United States of America… today, as had been planned for some time now, our Declaration of Independence, drafted and signed by a select group of patriots and statesmen. Yours truly was honored to be among them.

  You can’t imagine the feelings of inspiration that floated throughout Independence Hall today, standing beside such friends and countrymen as Thomas Jefferson (he’s drafted quite a wonderful poem on his site from today) and Benjamin Franklin (who has got pictures of the event in question up on his weblog).

  I must share with you an amusing anecdote from the day’s events, however—as all of us stood toe-to-toe, preparing to ink our names onto the document in question… Thomas leaned forward and picked up the inkwell and the pen, but when he went to inscribe his name on the document, he slipped and fell mid-signature! But Thomas, always quite dedicated to the cause at hand, attempted to finish his name before hitting the ground.

  The result—a curved, grandiose signature that was the cause of laughter for the rest of the lively scenario! And as each statesman reached the table and the document, those who had already signed began to chant, “Give us your Thomas Jefferson!” in reference, of course, to his elaborate penned signature!

  “Give us your Thomas Jefferson!” Even now, it causes me to smile a silly grin—a situational joke that, I’m sure, will stick with these men and History for years to come.

  While the day was a milestone none of us will soon forget, I find my thoughts turning toward my own last name, the cruelty of children and the phrase “John the cock”—the subject of many years of despair on my part, that even today (after such a monumentally historic moment) brings chills to my spine. I can only hope, that years from now when fresh eyes gaze upon this Declaration, the jokes of days gone by are no more than memories…

  That would make both me and my mother a pair of happy Hancocks, proud in name and reputation.

  Don’t miss my pictures from today—you’ll especially want to check out this one with Jefferson landing on his backside and tumbling to the ground! Hoo-wee!

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

  Subject: “The Paying Kind” and Other Stories…

  ’Twas the kind of day when a man would far prefer the scent of the summer air all by its lonesome rather than the background for a far less appealing chore.

  If I’ve said it once I’ll say it once again—I have never been the kind of man who connects with the ones and the zeroes. I have never been the kind of soul who can stare for hours into the blank canvas of a digital screen. And above all, while I fancy myself an artist, I can never design a digital version of what you’re now gazing upon.

  Which brings me back to the kind of day I mentioned prior—’twas my chore for the day, sitting there in the open air on my front porch, attempting to design what you are now lookin’ at. But at the time, I slaved over something that wasn’t coming.

  My neighbor approached around noontime, curiously looking upon what I was slaving over. “Good day,” he said. “Whatchya got there?”

  Well, my smarts got the better of my brain at the moment, and before I spoke I took the time to place my words in a careful order. “What am I doing?” I spoke with excitement… “Most probably the most amusing, fun, rewarding thing any man on a sunny day like today could do! Designing my brand-new digital scribble sheet!”

  My neighbor looked at me with jealousy as I turned back to the screen, poking and tapping away with a whistle from my mouth. He leaned in closer, curiously. “Do you think maybe I could help ya?” he wondered.

  “Oh, no no no no no,” I replied. “This is important business that I can’t just hand over to anyone. Besides, why would I let someone else do something that I enjoy as much as I do? I’d be crazy to just step aside and let someone have all the fun!”

  My neighbor stood quiet for a moment, tongue hangin’ out the side of his mouth. Then his eyes lit up like a candle’s flame and he dug deep into his pocket. My neighbor turned to me, leaned in close and spoke, “I’ll pay you if you’ll let me.”

  I looked to him with eyebrows raised. “You want to pay me so you can take over the design?” I asked. “You’re asking me to step aside and let you do the whole business?” He nodded affirmatively as he pulled a wad of money from his pocket, shoving it into my palm.

  By the time the sun was hangin’ close to the horizon, my pockets were filled with green. My neighbor, his cousin and four more locals had heard of the exciting activity at the Twain estate that would only cost them a day’s work!

  Sometimes, perception, it seems, is far more appealing than conception. Of which, this site has now experienced thanks to some very passionate, very gullible locals!

  From: http://www.howar
dhughes.com/blog/

  Subject: The Benefits of Keeping Urine in a Jar

  Urine.

  Urine urine urine urine urine.

  Doesn’t sound like a real word anymore when you say it twenty-one times.

  Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine.

  What is urine? What is it? What is it what is it what is it? It’s urine. Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine.

  I wrote about urine. Twenty-one times before. You can read those entries here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here and here. I also wrote about peas. I like peas, and that’s a word I can stand behind! Peas. Please. Peas. Please. Please, peas.

  People are talking about me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. No, I do not wear tissue boxes for shoes. No, I am not dead. No, these rumors are the creations of governments who seek to destroy me. Me and my urine! Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine.

  Yes, I keep my urine in a jar. It is sanitary. Sanitary. Sanitary. Tell me about what’s not sanitary and I’ll tell you what is sanitary. And while I’m telling you what is sanitary you’ll have to excuse me while I fill up a jar with my urine. Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine Urine.

  Yes, it’s a word. Urine is. But it’s not nearly the kind of word that peas is. Peas is a word you can stand behind. I wouldn’t be caught dead standing behind, above or in such a word as urine.

  It’s fun running a huge corporation funded by millions of dollars in capital.

  ..................................Twenty-one dots. There are twenty-one dots there. This is my new signature. This is a much safer signature. One that cannot be forged. People are out to get me and my jars and my peas and I must be ingenious to outwit them.