Praise be to Crum, god of Baloneysword, but They have seen fit to release me from this stinking oubliette once and for all.

I just canceled my internet service.  That's how serious I am this time.

BUT WHAT DO IT MEAN?!  It mean, droogs, that I want my loaned-out objects to be returned to my spiderman-like gripping appendages, sharpish.  Someone has my SQUEE trade, someone else has a hardcover Lolita (which, incidentally, is the name of my new shoegazerdustrial band), someone has a Transmetropolitan, someone has my I Feel Sicks, someone (Samantha) has some DVDs, &c.

I also have some gifts/hand-me-downs for various tribesmen.  Periwinkle cowboy boots, riveting fantasy novels, scoliosis-inducing furniture, purgative stretch-velvet vampyre gowns, that sort of thing.

So gimme.  I will remain in Hellzone: Seatown, succumbing to the local eldritch toxins and slowly transforming into some sort of hideous fish creature, for most of the remainder of this month.  After that, there will have to be mailings, a fate that not even Satan wishes on his naughtiest wards. 

Naughtyward, incidentally, is the name of my new Lords of Acid cover project.

PS: I don't care what Wired's lawyers said, I could have proven in court, beyond a reasonable doubt, that Todd Goldman is a douchebag.

Tags: baloneysword