Wednesday, June 22, 2005
farewell to fang
It is with some sadness, my dear reader, that I must report to you the retirement of Cardinal Fang.
He is moving on, presumably to pay more attention to the completion of his novel and "to embark on an emotional, physical, and spiritual rebirth . . . one that has been a long time coming. And, as such, I must cast aside some of my old methods of communication . . . this one, obviously, included."
While I wish him well, I personally urge him to reconsider such drastic action.
He writes:
My dear, dear Fang, your humble blog provides nearly endless entertainment for those who know and love you. It's nearly the sum extent of my knowledge of that other game they call football. It provides a means for regular communication about the events in your life for those kept separate by distance and the events of our own daily lives.
He continues:
I would gladly give a dead dog's cock two tugs, and even consider using my teeth to do so if it will provide incentive for you to continue. The world needs your acerbic ranting, creative cussing, and innovative use of expletives as you describe the antics of the ignorant unwashed masses and the egocentric pig fucking bastards who govern them.
Orwell writes:
So long as you, dear Fang, I, and the millions of others like us out there across the realms of physical and virtual space continue to rage against the dying of the light a small glimmer of hope remains for the future.
I do not presume to be so selfish as to ask you to continue for myself. I also am not so foolish to believe that you will continue to write and rant to satisfy the needs of your as caricatured as they are beloved European vanity and British ego.
But for Chis'sakes man, think of the children!
For the love of all that is holy, think of the children, think of the future! Every blog posting is another message in a bottle, you cannot possibly predict whose shore it will someday wash upon.
Our words are our weapons, and yours are frequently daggers piercing Ceasar's side. Please my dear friend, heed my council, and make your mantra the same as one oft intoned by the goat scrotum sucking politicians whom we despise, "For The Children. . . "
It is our only hope.
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He is moving on, presumably to pay more attention to the completion of his novel and "to embark on an emotional, physical, and spiritual rebirth . . . one that has been a long time coming. And, as such, I must cast aside some of my old methods of communication . . . this one, obviously, included."
While I wish him well, I personally urge him to reconsider such drastic action.
He writes:
Besides all of that . . . I’m tired of ranting. It’s quite fucking useless.It's not fucking useless!
My dear, dear Fang, your humble blog provides nearly endless entertainment for those who know and love you. It's nearly the sum extent of my knowledge of that other game they call football. It provides a means for regular communication about the events in your life for those kept separate by distance and the events of our own daily lives.
He continues:
I don’t really give a toss anymore what our politicians do. All politicians are evil. Every last fucking one of them. . . .Fang, as one of my oldest and dearest of friends, I again plea with you to reconsider! I beseech thee from the bowels of Christ! It is for precisely those reasons you mention that we need you to continue.
I couldn’t give two tugs of a dead dog’s cock how much lower the great seething mass of citizenry is willing to sink in search of the next crumb of celebrity gossip. Concentrate on your own fucking lives, you pathetic vermin. . . .
I would gladly give a dead dog's cock two tugs, and even consider using my teeth to do so if it will provide incentive for you to continue. The world needs your acerbic ranting, creative cussing, and innovative use of expletives as you describe the antics of the ignorant unwashed masses and the egocentric pig fucking bastards who govern them.
Orwell writes:
"To the future or to the past, to a time when thought is free, when men are different from one another and do not live alone -- to a time when truth exists and what is done cannot be undone: From the age of uniformity, from the age of solitude, from the age of Big Brother, from the age of doublethink -- greetings!"My friend Fang, although there are many who will argue that it is fading and sadly nearing its bitter end, we still live in an age when men are different from one another and do not live alone. Thought is not as free as it once was, and some thoughts certainly cost more than others, but we have not yet fully slipped into the age of uniformity and solitude.
So long as you, dear Fang, I, and the millions of others like us out there across the realms of physical and virtual space continue to rage against the dying of the light a small glimmer of hope remains for the future.
I do not presume to be so selfish as to ask you to continue for myself. I also am not so foolish to believe that you will continue to write and rant to satisfy the needs of your as caricatured as they are beloved European vanity and British ego.
But for Chis'sakes man, think of the children!
For the love of all that is holy, think of the children, think of the future! Every blog posting is another message in a bottle, you cannot possibly predict whose shore it will someday wash upon.
Our words are our weapons, and yours are frequently daggers piercing Ceasar's side. Please my dear friend, heed my council, and make your mantra the same as one oft intoned by the goat scrotum sucking politicians whom we despise, "For The Children. . . "
It is our only hope.
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