100

samoyeddogs is 100 posts old today.  I mean yesterday.  A century.  A c-note.  What’s it mean?  I’ve no idea, Jock.   ‘A mystery wrapped in an enigma…’  That sounds accurate.  About as accurate as anything else going on around here.  So little has changed I hardly know where to begin.

One thing at the site we’ve wanted to accomplish is to expose clichés for what they are.  100 per-cent gold.  We strive for cliché and I know you’ll want to join me in saying one thing.  There’s little doubt the best stuff on the site is 100 per-cent cliché.  Okay, that’s a couple of things.  Not as easy as it sounds either.  I appreciate that.

I’ve noticed a more serious tone creeping into the site.  Not sure what that’s about, and not sure anybody around here knows either, or that much of anything can be done about it.  I doubt it’ll last.  Some of us are half-thinking it might be a good time to pack things up around here.  Surely you’re joking, Mr. Folderol.  A world without samoyeddogs?  Yip yip, bark howl.  Don’t do it, buddy.  I will sit up nice.

So here comes a big muchas gracias to all the followers of samoyeddogs human, bot, spam, mistake.  All are welcome.  Lost track after 100,000 of you kind things and please keep the love flowing.  It feels good.  Love, as you know, is one of the pillars holding up this massive undertaking.

I don’t know.  I just don’t know.  It could be that I don’t want to know, but, in any event, I’m just not sure.  Not sure at all.  And between not being sure, and not knowing, well, there has to be somebody out there who can figure this out for us.  I’m always looking to make that connection.

That’s what I’m counting on.  One thing I do know.  There’s no substitute for vacuousness. And the goal remains the same.  Keep it coming.  An oasis of inanity in a sea of insanity.  Maybe we’ll just mix in here and double down on that.

Nov2015More to come…  taxidermy

 

Daesh

Is that it?  That’s the best you can do?  Just put it up there, your testosterone-fuelled blood-lust?  And how you poison the mind.  Eats its own sick, dog.  Merry Christmas in Daesh-land.

You murderous clowns are worse than the worst of the Irrational Rangers of Assassination (IRA) and you’re not even drunk.  I’ve no pity for you.  You’re up there with the Nazis.  Good job.  The drugs are working.

Shadow of The SashThe mouth of them that speak lies shall be stopped.

This thing about “infidels” and “apostates”.  Are we to languish in our holes and not take issue while the true infidels and apostates act with impunity?  It’s sad, really.

Nemo me impuni lacessit.  I believe it.  You believe it.

A scourge.  Vile.  Words aren’t adequate to describe a half-wit pounding an ancient statue with a sledge hammer.  ‘The vandals took the handles’.  Such a concentration of filth.  Oh my, but it smells.

But those that seek my soul, to destroy it, shall go into the lower parts of the earth.  They shall fall by the sword: they shall be a portion for foxes“.

Yea, it is written.  They shall also be a portion for Hellfire missiles arriving at 995 mph.  Technology won’t save us.  But it doesn’t hurt to put the wind up this scum.  Vaporize him who can.  Feliz Navidad.

Never has the world seen such a concentration of small penises in grown men.  A big part of it has to be sordid, sick sexual frustation.  The only way this vermin can get laid is by rape.  Joyeux Nöel.

'Orange Skies Carnivals and Cotton Candy'
‘Orange Skies Carnivals and Cotton Candy’

 

The Facebook

Yeah that’s right. Twenty years to break me down. I saw the 2010 movie and I thought, “No. I’m still not gonna do it. Sign up for the Facebook.”

I mean, I liked the movie. “The Social Network”? And Jessie Eisenberg?  Always so darn cute. Loved the movie.  But was I gonna do it even after that?  No way, as we used to say.  And I didn’t.  And I wouldn’t.  You often just wonder who cares?Jesse Eisenberg

But I’m on the “Facebook” now.  And you’ve probably digested my complete profile by now.  Everything breaks down into the eensiest, teensiest particles of complete information about everything, everywhere, all the time.  This was the future.  Even I predicted it.  Is it a good thing?  Too late for that.

Strange thing, people you’ve never heard of coming up to you on the data stream wanting to be your friend.  The list of contestants is getting longer every day.  Who are these people?

It’s good for pictures.  Odd, strange little semi-unexplained images.  Photography’s such fun.  Especially when you’re an amateur.  You don’t have to worry too much about absolute precision.  Or some putz stealing your stuff and passing it off as their own.  You can have it, loser!  That’s the spirit.

So it’s over now.  I forget the rest.  “Thought I’d something more to say.”

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