Saturday Morning

Catwoman Blogging.

In honor of the women who, between them,

lobbed a cinderblock into the puddle of my preadolescent sexual predilections.

Who knows; without them I might have malformed into another rigid, uptight Republican freak, having shame-based sex with poker-playing doxies, instead of the model of clear-eyed, naught-bad-fun-luvin’ flexibility you see before you today.

I blame Gilliard for bringing this whole thing up (sing with me now:

”There is a bombshell,
There is a bombshell,
In Gilliard…”)

Also, as promised, here’s a rack of Chicago’s finest ribs…


And a keg…


In honor of the indefatigable Spamcatcher v 1.0 making its thousandth kill.

It is indeed time to par-tay! And it’s also probably time to retire it: The old gal is showing her age, and the spambot software has obviously been tweaked to go after other posts besides the lead dog.

There is what feels like an algorithm to it – they’ll usually hit some combination of recentness and most trafficked with bursts of three or more penis-enlargement shitstains – and if I had lots of idle time I might take an interest in reverse engineering the pattern and trying to interlace “real” posts with flypaper ones. But I don’t, so I’m not.

However before shutting it down, I am fiddling with the idea of replacing the catcher with a Before Proceeding “Terms of Use” agreement in the top spot.

Something that says, roughly:

“By posting comments on this blog, I affirm that I have read this ToU and agree to pay the operator of this blog a sum of $20 for every mass-distributed advertisement (commonly known as “spam”) placed in his/her comments by me or by a mass-advertising service hired by me for the purpose of soliciting commercial interest in products or services on the part of his/her readers.

In addition, I further agree to double this fee for any of multiple solicitations placed within one hour of each other in any comment section.”

I also feel very strongly that I should work the phrase “appertaining thereto” in there somewhere, but I’ll need another tub of coffee to figure out exactly where.

Y’all enjoy your Saturday: I’m off to swim in the dark waters of the labor pool today. Busy-busy, but will surely be holed up someplace seedy and delightful by midnight, tipping a glass in honor of Goss going up like marshmallow in a microwave, Rove circling the drain and, of course, Miss Eartha Kitt.