a lie. i have no news. but the bloggery beckons el vaquero frio nevertheless to his innumerable adoring digital fans.
i love you all. alas! you know not how bone-chillingly high my secret hit-counter for this site has risen! rest assured: bone-chillingly high.
know this:
as an added treat just for you, i have written a tlcnet-style angst poem about graduate school:
Softly have they hewn,
cleverly;
the names of the sweater-clad tenured ones,
their studies,
their research methods,
their aclu donation receipts,
their beards,
their contempt for the cell phone,
their memorized seating charts,
their powerpoint presentations,
their poopy journals;
Softly have they hewn,
cleverly;
hewn them into the living skulls of the admitted,
like so many squealing, teething, milk-hungry tiger cubs,
fed daily on the lactose of their homogenized,
pasteurized brain feculence,
corking each precious fang
with
the
blood
of
the
righteous.
did you like my poem? i love you.
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