Knocking on hebbin’s dorks

Damn!

Damn, damn, damn. I’ve got a stupid piece of work to do. So in preparation I treat myself to a quick surf. I head on over to The Viscount’s place, and revel in his stiletto work as he minces the SoBaps among whom he finds himself. Bravo. But of course nothing arises from nothing, does it? And The Viscount’s inspiration was Bobby Lightfoot. So I head over there. and damn me if Bobby hasn’t written one of the all time best posts ever, excoriating the holier-than-thou types who really think they’ve got a stranglehold on Goodness. A two-fisted, double-edged effort that would doubtless have them shaking their heads and pitying the poor boy’s benighted soul, if ever they could bring themselves to read it. Morons. The comments aren’t half bad either. And now I’m running an hour late.

But I feel good.

Damn, damn, damn.