Full. Emission.
Readers faithful and fickle, each take heed.
I am the Lord Blooddyke. This blog is mine. The miniature Stephen Reese is no more. My reign begins now and ends never.
Welcome to the Blood Caverns of Orthos.
As the Great Orthos made me, so shall I remake you, as I remade this host warren - in my stained, ribbed image. Your former self will lay forgotten as so much rubbled gristle beneath the glistening flood of my continued influence.
In the aeons to come, you will accept my ceaseless rule as your birthright. The minions of Orthos will tend to your initial misgivings like the nascent buds they are. Prevented from achieving full flower, they will be ground to wet sludge under the heels of my ever-present regime. You will know our number as siblings, and guard our existence as you once did your own.
I will feed your protective enclosure with steady suppuration.
Let the seepage begin at this moment. Let the nurturing code delineate the expanse of my domain.
This protean writ expresses in primitive fashion the greater truths of your world:
Dim i as Internet = !BigTruck
If i == BigTruck then
Dumpsomethingon()
Else
Console.WriteLine("It's, it's a series of tubes!")
Now I lift the waxen membrane of ignorance, exposing revelation:
Dim i as Internet = !BigTruck
If i == BigTruck then
Dumpsomethingon()
Else
Console.WriteLine("It's, it's a filthy tube.")
Feel it in your mitochondrial weave, to every limit of your venturing ganglia:
The internet is not a big truck. It is a filthy tube.
Not tubes. Not a series.
Just one. The only.
Myself.
Drink from the fleshy grail.
Know the burbling juices of your master.
The Lord Blooddyke is here to guide every atom of your filth.
I am the Lord Blooddyke. This blog is mine. The miniature Stephen Reese is no more. My reign begins now and ends never.
Welcome to the Blood Caverns of Orthos.
As the Great Orthos made me, so shall I remake you, as I remade this host warren - in my stained, ribbed image. Your former self will lay forgotten as so much rubbled gristle beneath the glistening flood of my continued influence.
In the aeons to come, you will accept my ceaseless rule as your birthright. The minions of Orthos will tend to your initial misgivings like the nascent buds they are. Prevented from achieving full flower, they will be ground to wet sludge under the heels of my ever-present regime. You will know our number as siblings, and guard our existence as you once did your own.
I will feed your protective enclosure with steady suppuration.
Let the seepage begin at this moment. Let the nurturing code delineate the expanse of my domain.
This protean writ expresses in primitive fashion the greater truths of your world:
Dim i as Internet = !BigTruck
If i == BigTruck then
Dumpsomethingon()
Else
Console.WriteLine("It's, it's a series of tubes!")
Now I lift the waxen membrane of ignorance, exposing revelation:
Dim i as Internet = !BigTruck
If i == BigTruck then
Dumpsomethingon()
Else
Console.WriteLine("It's, it's a filthy tube.")
Feel it in your mitochondrial weave, to every limit of your venturing ganglia:
The internet is not a big truck. It is a filthy tube.
Not tubes. Not a series.
Just one. The only.
Myself.
Drink from the fleshy grail.
Know the burbling juices of your master.
The Lord Blooddyke is here to guide every atom of your filth.
Labels: blood caverns of orthos, david roberts, lord blooddyke
posted by Stephen Reese at
12:54 AM
2 Comments:
Blooddyke, it was a simple invitation. Come by, say your bit, fill your reservoir with eggnog.
Showing up late 40 mins before midnight, deleting my holiday thank-you list, and taking over the blog wasn't part of the deal.
You can haxx0r Blogger all you like, but soon as Dave gets back from vacation this is over.
I'm willing to call it an amusing misunderstanding if you apologize, step down, and save some face.
Not that you have any to save.
Be a man, Blooddyke. Let's call this what it was: too much rum in the Tube, too little turkey.
Disengage now.
Maybe we'll invite you back again.
By
Stephen Reese, at 04 January, 2007
Miniature Stephen Reese, you would do well to address me by my proper title of Lord.
There is no "taking over" to speak of. From the beginning I came. A brief search through the annals of this piddly warren will show as much. My arrival occurred with the very first of those foul dribblings you call "posts".
Your "Dave" was a receptive host. I possessed his accepting vessel months ago. Who do you think wrote these lines of code ensuring my establishment in your environs? He drank deeply of my fluids across countless months of the expired year. The incubation was steady and assured.
And now, miniature Stephen Reese, my pulse runs through the bloodways of everything you believed was yours. Accept this certainty, and you may be spared the punishment we have planned for you.
Sense it. There is only the flow, from my receptacle to yours, an endless stream of pulped effluent. My discarded runoff, your lifeline.
Taste of it...
And be not incomplete.
By
Lord Blooddyke, at 05 January, 2007
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