There are several aspects to this Eliot Spitzer affair that cause me extreme disquiet. The part about high priced hookers in the Mayfair Hotel in Washington, D.C. bothers me not at all.
I am certain that it bothers New York Governor Eliot Spitzer’s wife, but, really, should we go into WHY Gov. Spitzer spent the money? [...]
NB: Mr. Williams is responsible for all illustrations.
his vorpal sword recommends
Click image for details
Evidently you CAN fool some people all the time
Three Webrings for the Elven-kings under the sky,
Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,
Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,
One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne
In the Red States where the Shadows lie.
One Webring to rule them all,
One Webring to find them,
One Webring to bring them all
and in the darkness bind them
In the Red States where the Shadows lie.
(with apologies to J.R.R. Tolkien)
his vorpal sword
blog contents are © 2007, 2008, 2009 and soon, 2010 by Hart Williams
WARNING: Mr. Williams, is, according to the Eugene [Ore.] Register-Guard, the "Craziest blogger out there."
click to make your own sign
Our new and wildly popular feature
MP3 1.7 meg download 3m39sec
MP3 1.5 meg download 3m16sec
MP3 2 meg download 4m16sec
MP3 2.4 meg download 3m44sec
No popup windows!
and a special
BONUS!
MP3 2.4 meg download 5m 0sec
Jabberwocky
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought --
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood a while in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two!
And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
"And, hast though slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
Oh frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"
He chortled in his joy.
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
