snorpy bits

Captain Nope

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 27 May 2026 23:53:31 +0000

Captain Barely Noticeable Dandruff Flakes has recently been encouraged to find other accommodations after convincingly proving that he is not in actuality quite living up to his rank. We shall, after a thorough cleaning, disinfecting, and several months of focused re-evaluation, decide just how we want to proceed from here on out.

Captain Bushy Nose Hairs is out snuffling around the neighborhood again. Surely, someone should put a stop to this, though not us.

Captain Figitator was wiggling along Main Street yesterday, apparently fididling with the buttons on his pants fly. (He's an old fashioned one, is he.) So that went on for a bit, until he attracted an audience, shortly after which they all spontaneously formed up as a marching column and took over both traffic lanes, appropriately accompanied by tootling melodies of several people who just happened (we are told) to have kazoos with them, and who also knew how to wield them with proper effect, being professional kazooters on their way back to their hotel following their conference and dinner of turtle soup and animal crackers. So — a coincidence? Well, reach your own conclusions on that one, if you will.

Captain Nipple Tweak won't say why, or anything else, either. No one could have expected anything else from her (or him, or it) so I don't know why we bother.

Captain Poor Bladder Control remains on our "No Go" roster. (Use your imagination, but not too much of it if you know what's good for you, and also the rest of us.)

Captain Sir Richard Barfsalot — yeah, well... On those days when we DO allow him inside, he has to stay over in the far corner with the dogs, who have sort of learned to tolerate his presence for short periods of time.

Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? I agree, completely.

Lonely Quiescence

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 23 May 2026 21:41:08 +0000

I am the Lonesome Cowboy, counting mosquitoes by moonlight, humming softly along with them, my only evening companions yet again.

I am the Lonesome Cowboy, drifting along by day, sleeping soundly by night, always alone, always satisfied with whatever I do not have. I am one with the great vast emptiness that is the world. So be it.

I am the Lonesome Cowboy, having yet another long discussion with my faithful sock puppet, Harold. Though we do not always fall into complete agreement on all matters great or small, coming together as we do from decidedly distinct backgrounds, we do have many moments of full and satisfying understanding, Harold and I, and that is fine.

I am the Lonesome Cowboy, humming softly in the moonlight, completely on my own, completely empty of cares and woes, not pursued for any reason or even known at all by any among the vasty populace. Cool, reserved, at peace, alone — such a one am I.

I am the Lonesome Cowboy, sitting still in the night, gently howling at the moon, though only in my mind, for who would wish to disturb such impeccable silence as I have here? Not I, not I.

I am the Lonesome Cowboy, with dust on my boots and an evening breeze in my hair, satisfied completely with what little I have and with whatever I don't. Suits me just fine.

Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Lonely. Quiescent. Often softly ornery in a minor key.

Yo Mom

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 21 May 2026 00:25:00 +0000

Am in a waiting room, sitting next to a lovely plastic plant covered in delicate white plastic flowers, and it just bit me, the little bastard. Wait until I tell Mom about this. She takes notes. Will be writing a book about this soon. If the shrubbery doesn't get her first.

At 89, Mom, the world's oldest living stripper still working (between naps), is a real dance machine, though we'll eventually need to do something about the diaper.

I bet you couldn't take my Mom in a fair fight if she was sober and felt like wasting her time and got to limber up first.

I don't mean to brag but I'm better than you. Mom said so. She's always right, or else.

I miss Mom when she goes away. She's a zeppelin pilot. And a helium addict in her spare time.

I told Mom I wanted to be something special when I grew up and she suggested an aardvark sandwich with tuna sauce and a cherry on top. So maybe.

Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Would be totally lost without myself.

No I Never

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 16 May 2026 22:41:52 +0000

Ham on a stick — either one of them is fine by itself but put them together and you have something really special.

Hamster Bob has been wearing a mask lately. I don't think he's been robbing banks because he's pretty short, though he does have a suspiciously large pile of nuts behind his cage. Nuts. Behind his cage. Someone needs to investigate this.

Have noticed a rumpled, empty trenchcoat following me around on Tuesdays. Any ideas? This ever happen to you?

Have you ever been to a turtle parade? They're always over before I get there. But anyway, as long as you're here, could you untie me?

Have you ever seen cookies fight?

Have you ever tried to clip a lobster's toenails? Where do you even start? And I can't hold my breath that long either.

Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? About the same. Always about the same.

Recent Incidents

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 13 May 2026 22:22:00 +0000

Had a dream that I was being stalked by a pussy, a fairly fuzzy one at that. Nope. Just kidding. Not really. Not this one. This one, in fact, was freshly shaved and had pizza breath.

Had a weed follow me home. Said its name was "Harold", used to be king of England, back when it was called Angleand and stuff. We might start a non-profit garden together, just as a hobby. An experimental hobby.

Good news — I recently discovered that Woffort Wolderfarts isn't actually my uncle. And he isn't actually human either. More like a fungus or something (No wonder we could never get him to eat anything but week-old garbage and dog droppings.) So, bye-bye Farts.

Good news, for me at least — I finally completed my course in how to finally complete courses (home study version), and am ready to die young. (That's an advanced course, and I might be too ornery to qualify but am willing to cheat.)

Good news, one hopes — Trilby Twinkleham has re-opened the local hobby shop once run by our favorite community uncle, Old Sam Netherklaws. Now, once again, we may be able to get our nippers sharpened, or perhaps even be able to buy new. We hope! As always! Netherklaws Nippers have always and forever been the best nippers, and we do know it!

Gosh b'gosh — it's been a long time since I've written anything of substance. The monkeys won't let me have substances, so I need to steal them, and then write it off, which is a pain, but I need pain these days.

Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Recently incidented.

Fresh Plants For The Plantgrounds

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 10 May 2026 14:17:00 +0000

Fred didn't do it. That's why it didn't get done. And I don't care anyway.

Fred said "No", but I disagreed so I let the gators eat him.

Fred said it best when he kept his mouth shut.

Fred said it couldn't happen, but then it didn't.

Fred says he's gonna buy a boat. I said, "Fred! Get a bigger bathtub!" Fool.

Fred spent weeks making a mannequin of himself, and then he burned it. "To clear the air and give me a fresh start", he said. All I got from this exercise was a lingering smell of burned horsehair.

Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Never actually knew a Fred. How about Melvin Mortvedt? Grover Icenogle? Egwan Spelmanus? (High school days.)

Foundings

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 07 May 2026 02:48:00 +0000

Found dust again. On the cat. Again. Looks like he's been hunting. Probly dust bunnies. With some success, I'd guess.

Found dust again. On the cat. Again. This never used to happen. When he was alive. Not so much, anyway.

Fracture crackers. Fraught thoughts. Fraught toddy. Frauncy ponch. Mumble Week. (It comes and goes.)

Fulfillment, that's what I want. I ordered stuff from Almazzon two weeks ago and it still isn't here. My cat is getting somewhat twitchy without his 'nip. Can't blame him. I need some too.

Have been thinking of taking up catnip farming. After I move out of tiger country, I think.

Have decided to become a critic. All I need now is a subject, and maybe a pen, and some paper. Not sure about the rest. Is there an official uniform? A license? Secret handshake? Do I wear a mask? A cape? Special socks? This is all so new, so sudden, but I need the money. Does being a critic pay at all, or will I just get beaten up more often? (Pretty tired of that part already.) So many questions. Maybe I should email the cat, even though he's on vacation and gets cranky when I do that, but what else is new?

Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Found sandpaper in my underwear. Again.

Running On Three Toes

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 03 May 2026 00:49:00 +0000

Got my dick caught in the zipper again. Good thing I have spares.

Got my goose cooked. Finally. Highest oven setting is two degrees. Takes 47 months if the weather is sunny, and then there's all the mold. Dinner invitations will go out this evening to all those still alive and waiting patiently in layers of respectful silent anticipation.

Got my rear bumper repaired today. Been a little bent and wobbly since that family of six walked right into me from behind out front of Wally Mart last month. All big hefty ones like you see over there usually. No other injuries were reported.

Got sniffed by a ghost last night. I must have aromatic ectoplasm. Or maybe I fart colorfully in my dream sleep. Always a possibility.

Got three toes on my left foot and some more on my right, plus a couple spares out back. I'm pretty well set for most anything, I guess.

Grandma peeled me a pumpkin. I didn't know you could do that. I guess she's got the hands for it. Six of them, all gnarly. Wicked good at arm wrestling for her weight class.

Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Still not sure if I counted right or not.

Toots

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 30 Apr 2026 22:36:07 +0000

Got a bugle for my birthday. Stand well back then. Ima gon toot, y'all.

Got a cookie for my 5th birthday. Must remember to finish it before it goes bad. "Bad, bad cookie" is something I never want to hear myself saying.

Got a cookie in the mail. It could be a refund for that loaf of bread that I couldn't finish eating last week. Either that or it's a warning.

Got a flat tire last night. Stole it off the neighbor's car. Now he won't have to get upset by seeing his dead tire. I'm helpful like this and in many other ways. (Tires, so sadly, die too. Don't they?)

Got a whole entire suitcase full of dried squirrels here. Been saving them up over the summer, but no longer sure if that was a great idea, considering today's market report.

Got flies buzzing around me and they haven't even served lunch yet. Maybe I smell good for once.

Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Never liked bugles, or any other type of dog.

L Is For Lunge

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 25 Apr 2026 20:20:00 +0000

Lorenzo is my name and I don't have a game. But am accepting donations until 4 p.m. today.

Lots of rats running up and down the streets carrying little tiny signs saying "It was all rigged." And maybe it was, but who listens to rats?

Still living off the grit on borrowed horse meat, among too many lonely houseboats.

Long, long ago I used to go to church, but quit when they asked me to stop farting along with the hymns. Like — isn't everyone's contribution valued? I don't know about those people. I don't know. So I left. This still annoys me.

Linda says "Hi". That's all she says. I should have a talk with her but all she says is "Hi". Gets really annoying some days.

Life would be less fun without you around, but probably not enough to notice.

Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Lovely. I'm finally feeling lovely.

Just Me And Mucilage

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 22 Apr 2026 23:35:00 +0000

Margo the mucilage queen sent me another bucket of goo. She does this about every other month, and each time I forward it to the neighborhood homeowners' association. They know how to handle things like this. Some of them even enjoy sniffing it.

Maria-Jose is back on the job. Not sure yet how much is Maria and how much is Jose, but she don't look like she gives a fuck what I think.

Marjorie Marigold specialized in pastel prints and rose-scented farts. She doesn't live here any more, so I'm back to having no friends at all.

Marlene the Möbius Stripper is like an unnatural act of nature the first time you see her, and some of the other times too, but she's real bendy, and I like that in a woman.

Do you ever get the feeling that you're not being watched anymore? Life has become so, so lonely.

So me and Spud spent some time standing down by the corner yesterday, counting chickens. Wasn't much else to do. Not that many chickens out neither.

Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Sticky.

G Thoughts

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 18 Apr 2026 22:32:13 +0000

G.I. Josephine.

Gambling for Gonads.

Gears run by swine.

Genital friends.

Germ ranching.

Getting near the end now. Even the flies can't stand me any more.

Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Will get to more of the alphabet later.

Rot Wailer

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 15 Apr 2026 23:37:24 +0000

I saw Dad again yesterday. Yes, he's still dead, and as active as ever. You've heard that you can't keep a good man down, but in his case it's "You can't keep a dead man in the ground." And I don't know why. I really don't. He's a lot more active now than when he was alive and no more likable, given the odors of decay. At least I no longer have to live anywhere near him, or even admit that I know him. Knew him. My only "interaction" these days is occasionally catching a quick glimpse of him running naked down the street, possibly chased by various carrion eaters. All I have to do is to turn the corner and head upwind, if I can. I like wind.

Saw Dad running naked down the highway around noon, pursued by about 20 police cars. They were having a bit of a problem keeping up. Pretty good for a guy who's been dead for around 23 years now, and has to dig his way up to sunlight every time he wants a bit of fresh air, but being the dead undead is the only thing he was ever good at, somehow.

Saw Dad again yesterday, running naked in the park, chasing cats. I truly don't know how he finds so many cats to chase, especially for a dead guy, or where he gets those goofy tattoos of his.

If you must have a Dad, don't pick one like mine. He was dead all the time, had a terrible personality, and smelled bad. Besides being cold and distant. Something about spending your days and nights in a grave will do that I guess. Though I do have to give him credit for climbing out of the hole every time we dumped him back into it.

Dad just walked by the coffee shop — naked and on the loose again. Damn, that guy won't stay buried for nothin.

See that guy outside? The one with no pants? He's my dad — taught me everything I know. Maybe I too can be President some day.

Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Constantly trying to run away from my future.

Screams Of Desire

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 11 Apr 2026 22:58:14 +0000

Walter stopped by for a visit. Tall gaunt guy. I have no idea who he is.

Wanna come by and see my dust collection?

Want a taste treat? Kiss me — I'm pretty yummy during weeks when I bathe.

Want a tip? Get a job as a waitress. And wear a short skirt. Live in despair. So simple.

Want to buy a used duck? Got one here, complete with outboard motor.

Want to have some fun? Set yourself on fire. But that takes discipline and serious amounts of training, so it might be a good idea to practice on friends first.

Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Actually more of a squeaker myself.

Pretty Much The Way It Is

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 09 Apr 2026 00:20:00 +0000

Wiener teasel.

Wife insurance.

Wild Ways Sewer Park.

Willow came by last night. Willow is a werewolf, but quite mellow. We usually sit on the front porch and swazzle a little beer, do some howling at the moon if it's up. Nothing fancy, just fun. Friendly fun. Sometimes we roam around and bite people. That's fun too. Especially since I got new dentures that don't fall out all the time.

Wouldn't it be nice if people tasted like brownies? Especially the ones with walnuts. I know that I would eat a lot more of them.

Year-end Clarence sale. In progress right now. Get some!

Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Yeah, been wondering about it all myself.

Praying Alone In The Cupboard

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 04 Apr 2026 23:00:00 +0000

Dork energy, dork madder, dork mutter. Something like that, all over the place, but at least it's not slimy so I think we're ahead.

Ebola instant noodles — I missed that one, and now it isn't trendy any more. Back to NFTs, I guess.

Fred didn't do it. I have this on good authority and the big finger now points at you.

For my first magic trick I will sit here quietly and not thumb a cell phone. And meanwhile you can fuck off.

For the first time in years I've come up short of ears — I'm in arrears in the department of ears then. Feel OK otherwise.

Hey — Dwarf hamster v hammerhead shark, round 2. I'm betting on the shark this time.

Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Never constipated, except mentally sometimes.

Not Scared Yet, If Ever

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 01 Apr 2026 23:40:20 +0000

We don't want to scare you too much, but Boo! (Damn that felt good.)

We seem happy enough, as a species, as individuals, on this train to deathland.

We're not here for a long time. We're here for a good time. (Defined as those days I'm not on fire.)

Weasels don't waltz well.

Wee Willie Winklevoss's guide to losing a fortune: "Easier Than You Think". (Comes with its own crayons.)

Wembley Dildron, inventor and patent holder of the Wench Wrench, professional mumbler, missing person, and no one cares about any of it.

Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Tedious at times, yes?

Wildly Calm Lately For You Too?

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 28 Mar 2026 12:34:22 +0000

There were all too many hubcaps rolling down the street this week, most of them disobeying lawful orders to stop. Whatever is the world coming to?

There's a tiger under my bed. It kept me up all night, counting sheep. There's that pile of dead sheep to deal with too.

There's no point in continuing to horse a dead beet.

Thesserelda Woofenpickle once appeared briefly on the Rocky & Bullwinkle show around 1960. I still dream of her. And what is she up to now anyway?

Things got strange after my kindergarten class roasted and ate our teacher Mrs Lee. The flavor was off. That should have warned us, but we kept it up with every replacement they sent in. Now I've given myself the farts again.

Thinking of you fondly, whoever you are. (Not really.)

Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? I'm just buzzing with excitement these days.

How So?

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 25 Mar 2026 23:40:34 +0000

There are flies in here. But no one is wearing pants. Very suspicious.

There has never been a public monument to hormones, and no one wonders why. Conspiracy?

There is no cure for asparagus poisoning.

There seem to be lots of rats in my apartment lately. I haven't sold that many tickets either. Will have to find out who's letting them in without paying.

There was a crooked man who had a crooked smile, and walked a crooked walk and farted a lot too. Generally the sort of person worth avoiding, if you know anything.

Then what?

Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? I'm around here somewhere.

Life Hums Along To Its Own Tuna

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 15 Mar 2026 22:02:00 +0000

The mucus conspiracy choir — coming to a sofa near you, real soon now. Watch where you sit!

The monkey finally came home to roost. (He likes chickens.)

The music in this restaurant is definitely too loud. One of the waiters just burst into flames, but they really don't take it seriously. The rest of them are clustered around, hopping to the music and roasting marshmallows on sticks. I can't wait for dessert. After that, they'll remove the cuffs and let me out. If they weren't fibbing for chuckles.

The music piped into this restaurant is so loud that my toenails fell out. Which drew dozens of rats from somewhere, all swarming like crazy, chittering away. That happens all too often in these parts.

The twelfth of April. The day I finally admitted that I am an ape. And have a pretty decent butt for an old creepy ape.

There is a door across the street, in a building, and the door is closed. I don't know what this means, but it could mean something, at least in an alternate universe where doors are really significant, high-status artifacts that people worship, and leave snacks for, and so on, but I don't think that things work that way around here. Am I right, or just clueless?

Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Not that flexible any more.

Could I Do It Without You?

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 12 Mar 2026 01:59:07 +0000

Thanks. I don't know what I'd do without you. Even though you're imaginary. Right? Am I right? Still, even so, I can assume that you taste good.

That chipmunk that tried to set me on fire? Honest mistake. It only wanted a roasted nut.

That giant eyeball in the sky has been watching me again. At least it isn't the giant runny nose always trying to sniff my pants. I hate that.

That thumping sound in the background — it's a thumper in the background, thumping. My neighbor doesn't know how to do anything quietly.

The food on the menu tastes funny, and there isn't enough of it. Maybe if I order some on a plate it might be better. At least it would be on a plate. I suppose. One would hope, eh?

The sky was full of wizards last week. It was all wizards, everywhere, sky-wise. I don't have any idea what that was all about, but there you are — wizards, all up in the sky, all week, up to no good that I could identify. Not especially noisy, though now we do have wizard droppings all over our roofs again.

Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? I'm usually like that.

You Ask?

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 08 Mar 2026 01:11:00 +0000

You ask me what I would order if I could have any dish at all? How about a plate of creamed spinach, served on a Maserati? Hold the spinach, but maybe I could use the plate for something, I don't know, not going to worry about it, unless I get really hungry.

Yes, I did meet a woman. I met a woman. Who didn't run away screaming. When she saw me. So my spirits rose. Considerably, mostly. She was in a shop window. Didn't twitch or even bat an eye. They were painted on and full of permanent meaning. I'll have to get back there. See if she still feels the same. About me. This may be my chance. At big romance. I hope, I do.

Yeah — monkey juice is pretty good for a lot of things, but it has to be fresh-squeezed, and you need the unpasteurized stuff. You can tell you've got the real item because it has hair in it. Maybe even some turds.

Would you be doing it if no one was watching? Captain Telepromter wants to know. No one else does though.

Wild Bill Hiccup — could never sneak up on anyone. Later became a standup accountant. Maybe you've never heard of him.

Why is it that composers of classical music are the only ones to have noisy movements? I do too, but nobody performs mine. Or even wants to listen. Even for free. Is it the grunting? The location? Something about me being a solo performer? Should I get a baton to keep time and move things along? Change my diet? What?

Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? I always keep my flippers well oiled. You betcha.

Closer

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 04 Mar 2026 23:08:15 +0000

The snorkelbunnies are closing in.

They say that snorkelbunnies are mythical. I wish. No matter what, I can't get away from that incessant restless bush rustling.

Do you know how much smoke an adult snorkelbunny emits while eating the siding off a house? I don't, not really, and don't wish I did, either,

My cat was voted snorkelbunny of the month. I don't have a cat, and don't know what a snorkelbunny is, but the award plaque smells nice.

If snorkelbunnies are not real, then what about God? Must ask the next time I don't see her.

Snorkelbunnies — got a bunch of them waiting for me on the front lawn. Lucky for me that I don't have a front lawn and am also imaginary.

Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Always watching where my tail might be.

Power To The Persons

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 01 Mar 2026 00:43:02 +0000

So the power is off today, and before too long we may even forget what electricity even tasted like.

So the power is off today, and my captive firefly breeding program is finally paying off.

So the power is off today, and wouldn't you know it — I forgot to blow dry my hair again first. Luckily, I have just the one, and I usually keep it in the dresser drawer anyway.

So the power is on today, and I need to figure out a way to make it last. Maybe check with Mom and see if she will loan me some of her canning jars. Not quite the same as lightning in a bottle, but definitely better than shit in a bag. (Despite what you may have heard, that really isn't good for much of anything.)

So the power is on today, but the ice cream machine is broken, so I guess my headache will be going away on its own.

So the power is on today. If I had an electric furnace I could make steel, though that might cut into my nap time.

Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? I'm just like that.

I Am Not A Christian Because

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 25 Feb 2026 23:56:00 +0000

Because my mind won't accept either hairy underpants or fuzzy thinking.

Because moaning while trapped inside a group of depressed people is nothing like meaningful. And then they expect you to throw money at them for the privilege.

Because I have lots better imaginary friends, many of them wantonly naked at times.

Because OK — so the guy who got nailed to a half-finished carpentry project didn't even exist. It was all imaginary performance art, thought up a couple of hundred years later by a bunch of Greeks as a comedy skit. (They didn't have TV in those days, eh?)

Because I don't have rabies. And you're not going to tell me that people who foam at the mouth and go around barking and being fully disruptive and asking for money and expecting converts aren't rabid? Or vampires? Or used car dealers? Say no more. Please. Say no more.

Because I found lots more better ways to waste my time. Some of them even tickle.

Because I don't want to spend my life being bored and miserable just so I can go to hell anyway. When I'm already there. Even without making it worse by being a Christian.

Because whatever you think of me, I'm not that stupid. Not that stupid. I do stupid on my own, my own way, without dogma. My kind of stupid.

Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me: Who?