I mentally composed a fantastically witty and insightful blog entry a few hours ago, but now it comes to actually posting it, I can’t be fucked! If I had means to type things as I thought of them, this blog would be updated contstantly; you’d have inspired insights, spontaneous brilliance and off-the-cuff virtuosity.
As it stands, however, you will have to put up with Subliminal Mutterings again, and the rest of this pointless crap:
I once read a cyberpunk book about a man who found out that he and his brother had been co-joined, and realised that he had a huge amount of emotional trauma that dated back to when they were separated. So while I understand that the separation of these boys may improve their lifestyle, the risk that one or both might die and their needing to adjust to being separate makes me sad. The book itself (can’t remember the title) was largely memorable due to the genetically-cloned prosthetic vaginas which that same character had implanted on various parts of his body – yes, that’s vaginas, plural.
On a side note, am I the only person in Australia who doesn’t give a pink rat’s arse about the stupid bloody rugby?
- Timeshare :: Scam
- Accounts :: Payable
- Temptation :: Island
- Hack :: Saw
- Shadow :: Boxing
- Infection :: Prevention
- 800 :: Bottles of beer on the wallli>
- Infidelity :: Adultery
- Springfield :: Homer
- Gardener :: Ava