The Ever-Loving Virgin Prince
Wednesday, February 11, 2004
Where Are The Zweibels Of My Youth? The Checkered Demons Long Gone?
Dearest mortals of frail body and weak mind,
Here I sit once more, at a glowing screen which presents to me electronic representations of modern conveniences. Yet, I feel not convenienced. The battle logs of Rush Girl and The Green Mike remain untouched, vacant, empty. There’s nothing new to feast my eyes upon, and my boredom has lead me to simply peruse the journals of some arcane cat-creature, one that does little more than overuse mentions of fellatio and comments on the enjoyability of getting smacked in the head with a board. Why she’s never been pulled from Google, I can’t rightly say. I suppose perhaps her brand of drivel is exactly what the people want, after all, the majority of my own new readers that found my site through the search engines, came in search of such things as “Paris Hilton’s Buttcrack” and “Mandy Moore’s Nipple Slip”, as well as numerous other terrible things that leave me wondering if perhaps my chosen vocation should have been pornographer rather than crime-fighter.
Just the same, I’ve been pulled from the search engines at least twice already, though I keep getting relisted, likely through my own efforts. The difficulty I’ve had in having my own page recognized by Google as valid media has prompted an angry, bitter growl in my throat every time I see the Cat’s page in the listings. Perhaps the folks at Google merely prefer porn, even when it’s written in a pathetically sub-mediocre manner by a girl with an inverse left breast. Personally, I find something rather boring about reading recipes for chocolate chip cookies with forced mention of handjobs and bosoms sprayed with spilled seed in between the steps. It reads something like this:
“Today I organized some files at work. Puppies are cute! My boss has puppies! Afterward, I went home and mopped the floor with a Super Swiffer, my lemon-scent Pine Sol nearly ran out on me! Growler has the nicest cock! It’s all pink and mostly clean. Then I cleaned out the cupboards and decided to make cookies. So I dumped all the flour and eggs into the bowl and started mixing them up. I’m still sticky from when Growler blew his load all over my chest! After the cookies were finished, I gave Growler a handjob and then he shoved a red-hot poker up my ass, making all my excretions painful, messy, and requiring the assistance of trained medical staff. It was fun! I love Growler!”
Feh.
As far as not being entertained goes, William Shatner doesn’t update his webpage nearly enough. For that matter, neither does Adam West save for mentions of upcoming appearances. There’s always the Onion, but the quality just doesn’t seem up to what it used to be, and I lost most of my interest in their site after T. Herman Zweibel ended his column. That leaves Crime Library, but my interest in reading about crime and serial killers mostly ended after I was back on good terms with Rush Girl. This leaves me bored. Bored until I can get home to Bobo the Virgin Chimp, slip an exquisite necktie around my delectable neck, and run off to fight crime. Until then, I leave you denizens of this inter-net with a small request.
GET ENTERTAINING!
Be seeing you,
The Virgin Prince
Here I sit once more, at a glowing screen which presents to me electronic representations of modern conveniences. Yet, I feel not convenienced. The battle logs of Rush Girl and The Green Mike remain untouched, vacant, empty. There’s nothing new to feast my eyes upon, and my boredom has lead me to simply peruse the journals of some arcane cat-creature, one that does little more than overuse mentions of fellatio and comments on the enjoyability of getting smacked in the head with a board. Why she’s never been pulled from Google, I can’t rightly say. I suppose perhaps her brand of drivel is exactly what the people want, after all, the majority of my own new readers that found my site through the search engines, came in search of such things as “Paris Hilton’s Buttcrack” and “Mandy Moore’s Nipple Slip”, as well as numerous other terrible things that leave me wondering if perhaps my chosen vocation should have been pornographer rather than crime-fighter.
Just the same, I’ve been pulled from the search engines at least twice already, though I keep getting relisted, likely through my own efforts. The difficulty I’ve had in having my own page recognized by Google as valid media has prompted an angry, bitter growl in my throat every time I see the Cat’s page in the listings. Perhaps the folks at Google merely prefer porn, even when it’s written in a pathetically sub-mediocre manner by a girl with an inverse left breast. Personally, I find something rather boring about reading recipes for chocolate chip cookies with forced mention of handjobs and bosoms sprayed with spilled seed in between the steps. It reads something like this:
“Today I organized some files at work. Puppies are cute! My boss has puppies! Afterward, I went home and mopped the floor with a Super Swiffer, my lemon-scent Pine Sol nearly ran out on me! Growler has the nicest cock! It’s all pink and mostly clean. Then I cleaned out the cupboards and decided to make cookies. So I dumped all the flour and eggs into the bowl and started mixing them up. I’m still sticky from when Growler blew his load all over my chest! After the cookies were finished, I gave Growler a handjob and then he shoved a red-hot poker up my ass, making all my excretions painful, messy, and requiring the assistance of trained medical staff. It was fun! I love Growler!”
Feh.
As far as not being entertained goes, William Shatner doesn’t update his webpage nearly enough. For that matter, neither does Adam West save for mentions of upcoming appearances. There’s always the Onion, but the quality just doesn’t seem up to what it used to be, and I lost most of my interest in their site after T. Herman Zweibel ended his column. That leaves Crime Library, but my interest in reading about crime and serial killers mostly ended after I was back on good terms with Rush Girl. This leaves me bored. Bored until I can get home to Bobo the Virgin Chimp, slip an exquisite necktie around my delectable neck, and run off to fight crime. Until then, I leave you denizens of this inter-net with a small request.
GET ENTERTAINING!
The Virgin Prince
