At the back of the hill

Warning: If you stay here long enough you will gain weight! Grazing here strongly suggests that you are either omnivorous, or a glutton. And you might like cheese-doodles.
BTW: I'm presently searching for another person who likes cheese-doodles.
Please form a caseophilic line to the right. Thank you.

Thursday, December 13, 2012

WHAT IT'S ALL ABOUT

Usually when people find out I have a blog, they ask me what the dominant theme or subject of my scribbling is.  I am hard-put to give them an answer.

Mono-chromatic blogs that beat only one dead horse are rather boring.
I beat several dead horses. No less boring, but it might take you a lot longer to discover that. There's plenty of dead horse here.


What do I write about?

Food. Tobacco. Tea. Crows. Raccoons. Badgers.
Sometimes odd linguistic or Judaic stuff.
Venomous crap about the Dutch.
Whatever interests me.
Dirty socks.

Less than 5% of my 'oevre', if you can call it that, is actually about pipe-tobacco, though these are the essays that are probably most noticeable to non-smokers.
Who may be bored beyond the point of tears when I wax lyrical about leaves.
Honestly. Less than five percent.

Pipe-tobacco as a recurring element does crop up in many posts that are about food or tea, because I often mentally associate all three subjects. They are a continuum.
They are also a stand-in for my sensual side. By which I do not mean physical congress, although that too is a subject quite fascinating to males such as myself, but the entire spectrum of experience that leads to a feeling of well-being and happiness.
Caffeinated beverages, tasty snacking, and a bit of fine tobacco afterwards.
Yes, I suppose all of that could include physical congress.
Not as one of those three, but "other".

However my readers should not be interested in my love-life, or the staggeringly ghastly absence of anything that even resembles such a thing, and whatever actions may have at one point been taken in furtherance of same are not suitable for a nice clean wholesome blog such as this.
This is NOT a blog about parts of the anatomy.


THE SECRET LIFE OF REPRODUCTIVE ORGANS

Well over half of my readers consists of spambots trolling the interwebs for a place to leave their poo. At least, that very much seems to be the case, if the comments are anything to go by. Fortunately 'comment moderation' has been enabled, so they come a cropper when they squat.

Boots, bags, football jerseys, stimulants for the president of your underpants, pills, baldness medications, payday loans, and sundry sites where you may scope out the physical attributes of people who really should know better in several different ways, are all among the ripe subjects of the programmes that clever dickies wrote to fertilize the entire internet.
With the possible exception of Taiwanese cheesecake (made by a truly gifted baker), and Indian wedding catering in Chennai or wherever it was, their submissions will not pass the vetting process.
You will not see their efforts here.

Comments left under blogs often start the most interesting conversations, and given that even real people operate under pseudonyms, it becomes fascinating to figure out what type of person hides behind nomens such as 'Mango Dust', 'Ripened Glands', 'Biggus Dickus', or 'Frog Bender'.
Anything by Anonymous with too many urls or hypertext is obviously a spambot or a marketing department, hence neither worthwhile nor worth permitting post-privileges.

What I will let through are any number of witty or insightful, or just plain silly, remarks. Like everyone with a soapbox, I like evidence that someone noticed my latest pirouette or magic trick.
I've even allowed insulting commentary, and slightly naughty stuff.
If you see something here that makes you scream, write!


You may rest assured that your sincere invitations to do intimate things to your fine young body in private, no matter how eloquently you phrase it, or however sweet and lovely it sounds, will never be posted.
I don't know what I'd do if you did broach the subject.
Smile perhaps, and giggle a bit.

Or rush frantically toward the bathroom to stick my head under a torrent of freezingly cold water till the moment passed.

The only way you'll find out is if you include your contact data.

I'll tell you all about the forty minutes with the ice water.

Among other things, this blog is not about ice water.

There is no ice water here. Forget I mentioned it.

An absence of ice water is truly lamented.


Remember to include contact data.


Mmmmmmm, ice water.



Continuum!



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NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
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