Temporarily gone

We regret to inform all our readers that due to the weather here in Lüleå, our antenna has broken down, and we are left with a lot of beercans and not nearly enough string.

Therefore, we have started to work on our brand new combined antenna and lunar space elevator. Suffice to say, this is going to be both time-consuming and totally avant-garde. We also regret having to inform you that we will probably not be transmitting for the duration of that time.

Linguistic deodoriser

Ok, the name just kills me. It's called Sneaky Pete.

And now the weather: Deluge

In our fair city of Lüleå, it rains an average of 777 days a year. This is due partly to local meteorological phenomena, partly to a curse cast from the stake by Jäne Ggüm, a notorious medieval witch. The curse can never be completely removed, but in 1349 it was contained by a great sacrificial ritual.

You see, the city was built between 7 mountains: Öldricken, Lüderhören, Lövsteken, Häagen-Dazs, Sneezy, Donner and Blitzen. Together they form the Bömpengeringen, a giant septagram*. Every year, part of our municipal tax goes to maintaining the Bömpengeringen, and we pay gladly. If we didn't, we'd all walk around with rusted armor, blunted weapons, questions unanswered and desires unfulfilled - unless of course we took the hand in marriage of the ugliest creature in the land, which is kind of a bummer.

Unfortunately, there is a fissure in the Bömpengeringen. The crack occurs in the upmarket part, on the right side of the tracks - what used to be the sunny side of town. It creates a magic vaccuum which makes it rain all day, all week, all year, and as a side effect it also somehow makes the well to do exempt from paying their municipal taxes.

Anyway, you learn to live with it. "It may cause spleen, but it keeps the streets clean and the hillsides green", as the old folks say. Summers are brief and frantic; You have to dart half naked through the narrow city streets, dodging the raindrops and the Japanese tourists, to catch the bolts of sunlight that appear without warning.

Recently, the autumn rains have started for real, which means we probably won't see the sun for another 7 or 8 months. We all brace ourselves. In fact, I'm bracing myself right now.

*) A magic symbol which wraps the mighty power of a septic tank into the lovely shape of a kiss-o-gram.

Pathos, Ethos and Aramis

The cage stood as before... immune to chaos and decay.

Martin Vaughn-James

Decisions, decisions

Win or lose, we go shopping after the election.
Imelda Marcos

Minimum wage

God, I hate my job. I keep hitting myself over the thumb, and the apron makes me look fat. I'm quitting this dump tomorrow, I swear. If I ever see another fucking nail, I'll freak out.

Thirsty?

No, not that one, I want the one that erases moral inhibitions.

The SHÄDY ÄCRES Literary Supplement for the Review of Books

When I gave away my secret recipe last week, I promised you that sound career advice and useful tips on home improvement were to come. Well, since the last couple of entries fully explain your position in the class system, that one’s sorted. The home improvement thing is harder to get around. I’ve given it a lot of thought. Bookshelves count as furniture, right? There you go.

The top ten worst books in my bookshelf:
Ursula Johansson: Wheat and Vegetables – A Collection of Vegetarian Recipes from Here and There
This, as you might have guessed, is an anthroposophist cookbook. How do you turn colorful, succulent vegetables into gray, tasteless paste? You boil them, dummy!

Bjørn Mjaaland: Investigating II
This is an actual detective manual from the Finnmärscker Police Academy. Don’t ask me how I got hold of it, but it’s scary stuff. To read it is to lose all faith in institutionalized justice once and for all, it’s that stupid. Apparently, marihuana smells like mosquito spirals and homosexuals are usually murdered to conceal a theft. If they can get away with teaching this crap in criminology class, we’re all fucked.

Vidkun Quisling: Russia and We
First published in 1930, this is the only major work from the hand of the man who gave treason a bad name. It’s all about how revolution is a horrible idea when it’s done in the name of equality, but somehow a really healthy one if it’s done in the name of race. This would have been all well and good if it didn’t make for such mind-numbingly dull reading. If you want to be a fascist usurper, that’s fine. At least have the common decency to be charismatic.

John Gribbon: In Search of Schrödinger’s Cat – Quantum Physics and Reality
Niels Bohr once said that anyone who is not shocked by quantum theory has not understood it. This is the book that will help you avoid that shock altogether. From the prologue (provocatively titled Nothing is Real) right through to the anticlimactic culmination, it is utterly incomprehensible. Complete with impossible-to-understand graphs and illustrations.

James Joyce: The Dead
This is a short story in paperback. On the cover it has an eerie picture of Joyce staring into space. Five or six years ago I found this little book sitting in an envelope in my mailbox, out of the blue, no return address. To this day I don’t know who sent it, and I probably never will. Was it meant as a threat? An offering from a secret admiress? A prank? A curse? Whatever it was, it didn’t work. The title may be spooky, but the story is, well, kinda lame.

Siri Hustvedt: The Enchantment of Lily Dahl
As boring as Paul Auster’s poetry, which says a lot.

Jay Gluck: Zen Combat – The Ancient Samurai Warriors’ Key to Body and Mind Control
Make every finger a dagger, every fist a mace! What secret power hidden within the Japanese martial arts gives a frail, 85-year-old man the strength to butcher a full-grown bull - barehanded? You need this book to find out. It’s not just another how-to book, but a practical guide that builds your mental and physical state to a point of optimum… Wait a minute. Gluck – isn’t that a Jewish name?

Pauline Réage: The Story of O
So a woman wrote this. Who would have guessed? Well, maybe the endless, painstakingly detailed descriptions of the characters’ elaborate outfits are a tip-off. This sizzling tale of forbidden desire also contains meticulous depictions of architecture and gardening on the outskirts of Paris. Gardening, as it turns out, is crucial to achieve complete sexual submission in a woman. Classic erotica, my ass.

Robert Anton Wilson: The Illuminati Papers
I can’t begin to explain just how bored I am with that merry old trickster and his jumbled pseudo-philosophy. I don’t even know where this book came from, or why I keep moving it with me from place to place. I get an instant headache just leafing through it. What’s this synchronicity thing he goes on and on about? The article about quantum physics is just plain crazy. Oh, look, there’s that same picture of James Joyce. Odd.

Ernest Hemingway: Fiesta (Il sole sorgerà ancora)
My main grievance with this one is that it’s in Italian, a language I don’t understand. It just sits there on the shelf, mocking me as I walk by. You can’t read me, it seems to whisper. Of course I can’t be sure since it’s whispering in Italian.

Mayday, mayday

This is a picture of our appartment in Lüleå. On its right, at the same distance, you can see the Internet antenna. It's nearly tall enough now, but we're running out of beer cans and string. Fortunately, We've worked out an alternative way to supply the necessary power: A gigantic truffle funnel.

To avoid an overload (which might result in an accidental time travel), we have to turn off the transmitters during construction. Bear with us. We will return.

End of transmission.

How things work

The working classes.


The middle classes.


Spaze Nazis.

Noblesse oblique

Belonging to the middle classes means that we are obligated to spend every minute improving ourselves.


This means we tend to spend our spare time reading and catching up on important issues.


We like to be well informed, both culturally, politically and ethically.


We try to remember important details, which we then sneakily slip into cocktail party conversations.


Our friends are always impressed.


I wonder what's for dinner?

Man in nature - a pictoral journey

Hum-de-dum... Off to work, again. Today, as a refreshing change, I'll bring my camera.


Along the way, I photograph our beautiful city hall through one of the trees in front of it.


I also document an overpass.


At work. My job consists largely of walking through the scenic Finnmärscker forests. Don't ask.


But there are snakes in paradise. As I try to zoom in, the switch jams. I get only one shot of the deadly viper, in which it looks kinda like a stick.


The eerie landmarks of our culture.


What looks to be remnants of stuff looted from a Salvation Army container.


I must flee - flee! Oh, look, another overpass.


Another working day ends, as they tend to do, back at the bus station. Hellish? Sort of.

End of August horoscope

Finally, we've reached the conlusion of our monthly horoscope. Enjoy your antipathic sexual instincts!




The Pederast: Oct 23 – Nov 21
You are a libertine - a debauchee who has tasted all the pleasures of normal and abnormal sexual intercourse. You have suffered shipwreck in the sphere of morality and potency. The only motive for your infamous acts can be found in a morbid physical craving to create a novel sexual situation and to revel in the shame and confusion of the child victim. Fortunately, you live in a large city, where the markets for your filthy deeds are well stocked.

Lucky career move: Lascivious tutor/governess. Thus engaged, you may proceed to cane and spank the pupils entrusted in your care without provocation.

The Flagellant: Nov 22 – Dec 21
You harbour a secret craving to be flogged at the hands of pretty women. But then, who doesn’t? This month, your dreams will come true. Maybe.

Lucky number: 3476

The Sadistic Lust Murderer: Dec 22 – Jan 19
You are fond of women, but after having enjoyed them, you consider it a sport to strangle them. One night this month, you will be seized by a strange sexual desire for a relative. Irritated by her remonstrance, you will stab her several times in the abdomen. Immediately thereafter, you will hasten to a prostitute in order to cool in her embrace your sexual passion. This not being sufficient, you will murder your own parents and slaughter several oxen in the stable. Later that same day, upon your arrest, the forearm of a child will be found in your pocket, wrapped in an obscene poem. When asked to reveal the whereabouts of the residual remains, you may become embarrassed.

Lucky number: Banana

Lake Germany

Nuclear weapons have taken all the fun out of warfare.

Just recently, we celebrated the 60th anniversary of the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombings. Nothing big, just me and some of the guys. Had a couple beers, set ourselves on fire, walked aimlessly in long files, moaning.

What can be said about this particular work of government psychosis, really? Well, first of all, the Americans did it. Their reasons for doing it don’t make much sense, not even within the, granted, insane context of the Second World War. So the Japanese were as bad as the Nazis. So an invasion of Japan would have been a nightmare, much worse than D-day. So the use of the atomic bomb shortened the war with at least six months.

So what? It was still a dishonorable atrocity.

They clearly did it for two reasons: 1) They wanted to test the thing on human beings. 2) They didn’t want to test it on white people, so they tested it on the chinks. Oh, sorry – did I say chinks? I meant gooks.

Knowing what we do now about the long-term effects of a nuclear weapon, would they still have used it on the Japanese? Probably. If they’d had it sooner, could they possibly have used it on Dresden? On Rome? On Berlin? Probably not. In fact, it’s almost unthinkable. No chinks in any of those places.

The BBC, self-appointed planetary beacon of truth, sense and reason, chose a funny angle when they marked the occasion. They had a young, German academic explain how Hiroshima had really clouded the issues of responsibility and guilt after the war. Somehow, in his view, the Japanese had gotten off lightly because of it.

Yeah.

Maybe – and this is just me thinking aloud – maybe the Germans should shut the fuck up when it comes to Hiroshima. Do I mean to imply that the generation of Germans born after the war is somehow responsible for the sins of its fathers? No, I simply mean to imply that if it hadn’t been for the fact that the Germans are white, there could have been a huge hole in the middle of Europe.

In some ways, that might have been nice. We could go sailing on it in the summer. We could go skating on it in the winter.

August horoscope part III

No, you have not been waiting in vain. Here's part III of the August predictions concerning your antipathic sexual instinct.

The Defiler of Statues: Jul 23 – Aug 22
Although it isn’t known to the general public, the defilement of statues has been practised since ancient times, but far be it for me to become anecdotal. Due to your almost abnormally intense libido, you will most probably attempt coitus with any old Venus of Milo you see this month. We do recommend commencing with these activities after dark.

Lucky career move: flight attendant

Virgo: Aug 23 – Sep 22
Avoid 'speaking out' too quickly the 8th, be seen as 'fair and equal' the 9th, take care of a partner's needs first the 10th, avoid emotional discussions the 11th, address things on a 'priority one' the 12th and do them one at a time, take 'great pains' with communications the 13th and use tolerance in ALL of them and use your ESP the 14th for a most successful week in family life.

Lucky number: 5

The Koprolagniac: Sep 23 – Oct 22
Your latent disgusting impulses to suck festering toes may recede this month, and give way to an irresistible urge to be whipped to the knout, walk over a floor well-spiked with sharp nails, and to be bastinadoed and cast to lions in a cage. Otherwise, with your psychopathic father on extended holiday, you will find family life less vile. You should consider being careful, since your improved family situation may lead you to develop a lustful fancy that makes you think that vinctus inter femora mulieris cumbere, coactus, ut dormiat sub ejus podice et ut bibat ejus urinarum.

Lucky number: 9

Testing, testing

So, there was a storm, and, like, the antenna was knocked over. To avoid feedback we had to rewire the entire flux capacitator. The only problem was that we had to circumvent the English circuits. Until we’ve got it fixed, we’ll have to broadcast in another language. We hope you'll excuse us. With any luck, we'll be back in two thirds of a jiffy.

"INDLEDENDE BETRAGTNINGER OM KONGERIGET FINNMÄRCK; Et dejligt Land er Finnmärck, dette vort forunderlige Naboland. Et prægtigt, naturskønt Rige, ret et herligt Bosted for de blonde og blaaøjede Mennesker, der lever i det – fra Rigshovedstaden Stöckfisck i Syd til Ishavskysterne i Nord, Fra de dybe Fjorde der omgiver den traditionsrige Hansestad Lüleå i Vest til Skærgaardene i Øst. Frodige Øer adskilte af glimtende Sunde, øde, ufrugtbare Snemarker, høje Bjærge, brede, dybe Dale og flade Sletter, vældige Skove og store, skvulpende Søer, bølgende Landskaber og golde Sandflader.

Ja, indenfor Finnmärcks Grænser rummes store Modsætninger, baade hvad Naturen og Folkelivet angaar. Indbyggerne er højst forskellige i Landets Egne og Regioner. Der er en kvik, opvakt Befolkning i de tæt bebyggede Landbrugsomraader omkring Byerne, hvorimod de gudfrygtige Beboere i de ensomme, stille Skovegne er tunge og alvorlige i al deres Færd. Byboerne, især Stöckfisckerne, er livlige og pyntelige. Kväpödderne, højt mod Nord, som tilhører en anden Folkestamme, lever afsondret og klæder sig tarveligt i Elsdyrskind.

Overalt hvor man gaar er det som mærker man Kæmpers Fodtrin og Guders Aandedrag – Historiens Vingesus! Ja det er som om gamle Sagn og Minder lægger et Trylleskær over hele dette oldgamle Sagaland. Er det måske derfor vi kender så lidet til vort skandinaviske Broderfolk og dets Skikke – Er det derfor den jævne Dansker knapt nok kan udpege Finnmärcks Beliggenhed på et Landkort over Nordens Riger?

Nuvel – Lad da dette lille Skrift raade Bod på Sagen! Nok er dette en Rejseskildring, men en Rejse gennem Finnmärck er jo samtidig en Rejse gennem Landets Geografi og Historie.

Kom, lad os give os ud på en rask Rundrejse!”

(Uddrag fra En Rejseskildring af Theodor v. Wildenraadt, Nationaloplysningsforlagets månedshæfte Gjallarhorn, 1906)

Cognitive dissonance?

These days, thousands of German families are sponsoring children in Bangladesh. For many of these young people, having a German sponsor can lead to a refreshing change in perspective.

The food corner

“…That the light of magic suggestiveness may be brought to play for an evanescent instant over the commonplace surface of words: of the old, old words, worn thin, defaced by ages of careless usage…”


Dear reader!

We’ve figured you out. You’re middle class, aren’t you? Come, come - admit it! Don’t be ashamed, it’s not your fault. You didn’t invent the rules, you just have to play by them. You’re a good person, really. Don’t worry about it. In fact, don’t give it a single thought. You see, we want to please you. We want to cater to you. Why? No particular reason. The question is - how?

Well, it is a time-tested truth that the middle classes care only about three things in the whole world: Food, home improvement, and maintaining their social station. Drinking? Yes, if it goes well with the food. Art? Yes, if it matches the sofa. Sex? Yes, if it helps maintain their social station.

Consider this the first spike of a three-pronged assault. Today, we at SHÄDY ÄCRES give you… a recipe!

Cheese on a bed of bread
1 person

Ingredients:
1 loaf of bread
10 g of butter
2-3 slices of cheese
1 slice of cucumber

Slice the bread evenly on a chopping board, using a sharp knife. Any kind of bread will do, but I prefer whole meal, approximately 1½ cm thick. Spread the butter on one side of the bread only, using a knife. Slice the cheese. Put the slices on the buttered side of the bread. Slice the cucumber thinly. 2-3mm will do. Putting the rest of the cucumber aside, place the slice on the chopping board. Make a cut from the center to the skin. Holding the slice vertically, with the cut pointing downwards, twist each side of the cut slightly away from the other, creating an “S” shape. Put the slice of cucumber on top of the cheese. Serve with a glass of milk.

That’s it for this time. Remember, feel free to experiment. It’s all about having fun in the kitchen.

August Horoscope continued

Here are the next three horoscope entries for August. If you have just joined us here at SHÄDY ÄCRES, please scroll down for previous astrological predictions concerning the antipathic sexual instinct.

The Onanist: Apr 20 – May 20
This month, as with most months of the year, you will frequently and regularly commit offences against common morality. Monday the 15th will be ideal to stay at home and give way to the desire to defile yourself. If your eyesight is failing, we strongly recommend buying a pair of glasses.

Lucky number: 1

The Handkerchief Fetichist: May 21 – Jun 20
You dress with much taste and are of good repute, but your brother’s daughter is an imbecile.
When you meet exciting people, you tend to sneakily steal their handkerchiefs and take great delight in them. Unfortunately, you will experience both headaches and vertigo after yielding to many irresistible impulses this month.

Lucky career move: UN peace-keeping forces

The Exhibitionist: Jun 21 – Jul 22
You are a coarse offender of public decency, in spite of repeated punishment. With schools starting up this month, you should have a positively rocking good time. Remember: if you are prone to epileptic insanity, you may have difficulty remembering any of it.

Lucky number: 4

Sporty, but cruel

The sportive, knightly battle awakens the best human characteristics. It doesn't separate, but unites the combatants in understanding and respect. It also helps to connect the countries in the spirit of peace. That's why the Olympic Flame should never die.

Adolf Hitler.

White Buddha

Need I say more?

Scandicool

I phoned in sick yesterday. Since I was actually sick, I didn’t feel I had to do it in a funny voice.

The fever gave me weird dreams. At one point, I dreamt I was cleaning my right shoulder. It opened up at the top, and I could see that it was hollow, divided by flat, square walls into three narrow, oblong cavities that ran down the length of the arm. On the inside, it was the same color as on the outside, like the arm of a doll.

The three rooms of my arm were each filled with a dark and slightly (but not entirely) repulsive substance, which had a familiar, somewhat pleasant smell on it, like one’s own sweat, or navel fluff. I dug it out with a pincer, but since I had to do it with my left hand it was laborious and time-consuming.

Telling people your dreams is like showing them slides from your holiday.

Index

Monthly Horoscope: August 2005

Since astrology isn’t exactly regarded as scientific, we at SHÄDY ÄCRES have decided to try out a number of different methodologies for predicting your future. We’d appreciate reports on incidents when our predictions have been correct. This month, our horoscope theme has been inspired by Krafft-Ebing’s medico-forensic masterpiece on sexuality: Psychopathia Sexualis (authorised and revised English edition, 1936). Predictions will be released sporadically, and according to the whims of the Oracle. Here are the first three entries for August:

The Hair Despoiler: Jan 20 – Feb 18
You are well developed and intelligent, but you rarely feel satisfied after coitus – in fact, you feel disgusted. This month, we urge you to restrain yourself from forcibly cutting off the hair of strangers. If this doesn’t work, go on a holiday to Punjab and have a field day.

Lucky career move: barber.

The Zooerast: Feb 19 – Mar 20
With cranial asymmetries such as yours, it is our advice that you wear a hat this month and stay away from the pet shop and domestic animals. You should begin to realise that your mother is a psychopath in the near future.

Lucky number: 7.

The Hereditarily Predisposed Frotteur: Mar 21 – Apr 19
This month, you may be subject to melancholia at times, and sudden impulses to engage in frottage may seize you, especially if you enter a church. Furthermore, if you work in a dairy, you are most likely to succumb to an overwhelming urge to iterum iterumque sibi temperare non potuit quin genitalia in ollam lacte completam mergeret.

Lucky number: 3,14.

What do you mean, horse? Count the legs

In Norse mythology, Odin was king of the gods. He was the god of creation, knowledge, magic, warfare and death, and he rode a giant spider.

Höne, on the other hand, was merely the god of skiing and dairy products. We don’t know much else about this enigmatic figure, but tradition ascribes a short collection of sayings to him. This collection, the Vinmönöpölet, has never been translated – until now. We at SHÄDY ÄCRES are proud to be the first to bring these ancient words of wisdom to the attention of a wider audience:

Dü kan sämmenligne tö kättekillinger til du bliver grön, de er ligegläde: I was so busy watching the spring flowers that I didn’t notice the old oak falling on top of me.

Tö mænd kän ikke löfte hinänden, men de kän pröve: Existence is merely a cruel joke. Take it from me, I’m a god.

Den dümme står begrävet til hälsen i sine egne grönsäger: Let them fornicate if they do not appreciate witticism.

Fingeren på pölsen, så sker der ikke dig nöget: If you want to know what’s up and down on a moose, pay attention where you start.

Pölse i ræven, pölse: Attention means attention.

Day off

In heaven, you can listen to Audrey Hepburn sing Moon River over and over again, and each time hear it as if it’s the first time.

In hell, you have to drink your coffee with soy milk.

The insanity report

I was going to make a list of the most insane nations on Earth, and then rate them. It’s cheap, I know, and it’s been done a million times before. But you could say the same thing about your favorite sexual position, right? Anyway, the contestants seemed to fall into three categories:

1) The USA. So crazy it needs it own category.

2) Other crazy, militaristic nations that aren’t really funny, just scary, like: North Korea, Burma, Indonesia, Israel, and

3) Crazy, but somehow less scary third world countries, like:

a) South Africa: We liked them better under the grinding heel of oppression, didn’t we? Imagine the incompetence you would need to make the Apartheid system look like sort of a good idea.

b) Afghanistan: Even the CNN had a hard time with this one. Reporters would go: “Finally, the Afghan people are free to engage in their national sport, which was banned by the Taliban.” Cut to the good citizens of Kabul playing polo with the severed head of a goat.

c) Madagascar: One of the poorest countries on Earth, these people think it’s a great idea - once a year - to get really, really drunk, dig up their dead ancestors, and put a new set of clothes on them. Apparently they want the corpses to feel fresh.

d) India: Millions of starving people without arms and legs, and yet they seem to think they can afford a nuclear arms program. It’s a question of priorities, I guess. Have you ever met anyone who’s been to India and didn’t hate it? Oh, you have. Well, then, have you ever met anyone who had their arm broken by a swan? No. See?!

This is as far as I got. Then I started thinking about how much I hate Sweden. Not because they're crazy. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Need I say more?

If it's not broken - why fix the election?

Indirect democracy – don’t you love it? Democracy has become synonymous with the eternal values of freedom, human rights and market capitalism. Apparently, this is the last and final stage in our political evolution. Why experiment with other social structures? The western democracies are perfect. In fact, no other form of government should be allowed. You have to love it. No, I mean, you have to love it.

It is election time in Finnmärck. Once again, the people willingly participates in its own symbolic, quadrennial abdication. Since the UN for some reason does not send election observers to NATO member states, we at SHÄDY ÄCRES have decided to watch the proceedings closely. For those of you unfamiliar with the intricacies of Finnmärscker politics, this is intended as a general introduction.

Finnmärck is a constitutional monarchy. Although King Vidar Benito XIII is the nominal head of government (kränsekägefigür) the actual power rests with the parliament – the Flöketing. The Flöketing is divided into two chambers, a house of commons (Kämmerpigekämmer) and one that is reserved for special occasions only (Kämmerjünkerkämmer). In Finnmärck, anyone tall enough to mount a Shetland pony can run for office.

The parties represented in the Flöketing are, in no specific order (other than that it’s from left to right):

Red Election Coalition
One very sane and competent gay man and a whole bunch of not quite lesbians.

Socialist Left-wing Party
Mostly power chicks.

Finnmärck Workers’ Party
Arbeit macht Partei, but nothing kills like success.

Center Party
They’ve recently grown a green profile, which only makes them seem more desperate.

Coastal Party
Not a beach party.

Center Left Party
Almost as effective as a blank vote.

Christian Popular Party
It sounds like more fun than it actually is.

The Right
A fat woman surrounded by freemasons. No lubricants.

The Progressive Party
They must serve a purpose, otherwise God would not have created them.

That concludes our presentation. Any questions? I guess not.

Spacing the Kindergarten: Cognition & Transgression

I just love working with children. It's so rewarding.

They never call

Dead people can be so annoying.

First of all, they’re arrogant. Once they’re dead, they just don’t make an effort anymore, they don’t take the time to nurture the relationship. You get the feeling they don’t care. They never call, they never write, they never pay back what they owe you. The only reason they get away with it is that they’re dead. It’s such a lame excuse.

Try to tell them these things and they just ignore you. They act all indifferent. What makes them think they are so important? They don’t contribute to society at all! That’s another thing that pisses me off. Let’s face it, dead people are slack. The minute they die they quit their jobs, just like that. It’s as if, just because they’re dead, suddenly they have no responsibilities.

Now they have all this spare time on their hands, and what do they do with it? Nothing. They don’t do anything. They hardly ever travel. They don’t get any exercise, and yet somehow they manage to stay slim. But then, you never see them eat or drink anything. It’s uncanny.

They have no sense of humor about it, either. They never even smile. They just lie there. It freaks me out.

Dead people, get with the program.

World domination!

Do you want to be the first kid on your block to own your own stylish, rotating SHÄDY ÄCRES globe?

Well, I figured out how to do it. I do after all hold a doctorate in Panty Studies. Simply copy this text to your template, preferably in as many different places as possible:

<a href="http://shady-acres.blogspot.com/"><img src="http://www.breienbros.com/ShadyAcres/resizer.gif" /></a>

Or would you rather be the proud owner of this decorative banner, the eagle standard of the Finnmärscker National Singularity Worker's Caucus?

Then cut and paste this text into your template with wild abandon:

<a href="http://shady-acres.blogspot.com/"><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6374/841/1600/eagle2.0.jpg" alt="SHÄDY ÄCRES" /></a>

Get it before your neighbor. Get it before it becomes mandatory.

(The SHÄDY ÄCRES globe is only available in white and may cause epilepsy. The Eagle Standard is only available in black and may cause delusions of grandeur. Keep out of the reach of children. Do not ingest.)