I need some quick data about the geographical distribution of my readers. If y'all could take a minute to sign up with Frappr! and add yourself to the Acephalous group, I'd appreciate it. Much obliged.
As for the rest . . . consider this an open thread. Talk about . . . whatever. I'm interested in what you have to say.
[Edit III: If you added me as a friend, please go back and add yourself to my group. I had, in fact, created a group. Seems like it just took a day to show up.]
I know what you want me to say. But I'm not going to do it. I have respect! I have dignity! I will not go gentle into that dark containment car!
Posted by: Cow #1 | Saturday, 11 March 2006 at 09:15 PM
Will someone please tell that cow to shut the fuck up?
Posted by: Farmer | Saturday, 11 March 2006 at 09:16 PM
I was then taken east, in a cage. I was taken to Toronto. Then Philadelphia. And then to New York. And each time I arrived at another city, somehow the white men had moved all their people there ahead of me. Each new city contained the same white people as the last, and I could not understand how a whole city of people could be moved so quickly.
Posted by: Gary Farmer | Saturday, 11 March 2006 at 09:16 PM
Will someone please tell those farmers to shut the fuck up?
Posted by: Cow #2 | Saturday, 11 March 2006 at 09:16 PM
Thy wine doth purify the golden honey; thy perfume,
Which thou dost scatter on every little
blade of grass that springs,
revives the milked cow SHIT!
(stubs toes, drops glasses, stumbles as he searches for them)
Posted by: William Blake | Saturday, 11 March 2006 at 09:18 PM
SNAP! CRACK!
Posted by: Glasses | Saturday, 11 March 2006 at 09:18 PM
FUCK! Farmer, you still have my spare?
Posted by: William Blake | Saturday, 11 March 2006 at 09:19 PM
No, I traded them. Do you have any tobacco?
Posted by: Gary Farmer | Saturday, 11 March 2006 at 09:19 PM
No, I traded it.
Posted by: William Blake | Saturday, 11 March 2006 at 09:19 PM
For what?
Posted by: Gary Farmer | Saturday, 11 March 2006 at 09:20 PM
I'm not telling.
Posted by: William Blake | Saturday, 11 March 2006 at 09:20 PM
Liar.
Posted by: Gary Farmer | Saturday, 11 March 2006 at 09:21 PM
Thief. (Blake and Farmer scramble on the floor. Cow #2 moves her left. Blake grabs his gun and steps slowly away from Farmer.) Do you know my poetry? (Blake falls backwards over a cowering Cow #1. As he falls he pulls the trigger. A shot rings out.)
Posted by: William Blake | Saturday, 11 March 2006 at 09:22 PM
By God, I'm hit. Lord have mercy. Burns like hellfire. You son of a bitch. I'm gonna have to kill somebody now. (Cow #1 and Cow #2 establish eye contact and bolt for the open door, trampling William Blake to death in the process.)
Posted by: Billy Bob Thorton | Saturday, 11 March 2006 at 09:22 PM
...
Posted by: William Blake | Saturday, 11 March 2006 at 09:22 PM
Stupid fucking white man.
Posted by: Gary Farmer | Saturday, 11 March 2006 at 09:23 PM
What's going on in here? You! (pointing, in unison, at Billy Bob Thorton, who promptly expires) Alright then . . . you! (pointing, still in unison, at Gary Farmer)
Posted by: The Police | Saturday, 11 March 2006 at 09:23 PM
(pointing at Alan Moore, asleep in the corner) He did it!
Posted by: Gary Farmer | Saturday, 11 March 2006 at 09:24 PM
What? (The Police pull up a table and interrogate a groggy Moore for 10 hours. Their telephones ring simultaneously.)
Posted by: Alan Moore | Saturday, 11 March 2006 at 09:24 PM
(in unison) What? Two cows? Two lady cows? We're on it. (Exeunt The Police.)
Posted by: The Police | Saturday, 11 March 2006 at 09:25 PM