What's the Frequency, Flik?

The internet is pretty slick. Every attached computer has a unique address sort of like a phone number. (Sometimes, entire sub-networks lurk behind a single address through the miracles of IP and routing and such, just as entire switchboards of phones may lie behind the phone number of a main switchboard, but that's another story.) Continue reading….

 

Pinter Explains It All

I think it is our duty as a blog to enrich your lives, especially on a Friday. With that in mind, I offer you a poem. Now, I thought long and hard about how best to bring erudition to the huddled masses. Perhaps a missive about Bagpipe rape? No, I think we need a poem to explain football. My friend Ben was kind enough to send me the poem after the Superbowl. I really think it distills this most American of games into it's purest form. I give you American Football, by Harold Pinter.

American Football (by Harold Pinter)

Hallelullah!
It works.
We blew the shit out of them.

We blew the shit right back up their own ass
And out their fucking ears.

It works.
We blew the shit out of them.
They suffocated in their own shit!

Hallelullah.
Praise the Lord for all good things.

We blew them into fucking shit.
They are eating it.

Praise the Lord for all good things.

We blew their balls into shards of dust,
Into shards of fucking dust.

We did it.

Now I want you to come over here and kiss me on the mouth.