Holy white smoke, Fatman!
We now bring you a LIVE shot of someplace on planet Earth where surging throngs of Pope nerds have assembled to hear about the selection of some guy in some religion.
But first, some pharmaceutical ads. Don’t worry! We’ll do the multiple window thing so the LIVE shot of St. Peter’s Square in Vatican City will continue while we run the commercials. It’s our commitment to you to bring you continuous coverage of these people milling around a square.
Continue reading →
Dear Diary: I’m shaken by a vision of a well-protected note safely ensconced in the loving embrace of a pristine bottle and sealed with a cork. A note that contains my innermost thoughts protected against the ravages of time for all humanity to benefit.
Such luxury! Bottle? Pfffft! Cork? Pffft! Note? Pfffft!
For 27 days I have been
lampooned marooned on this above-sea-level pile of sharp rocks. I barely have the energy to scratch this message using my own blood with the tip of a seagull quill on the back of a crab shell. Urgency compels me onward even in the face of certain defeat. It’s not like I have anything better to do.
I’m still exhausted from what felt like near rescue at the time. I did the You Can’t Touch This dance on the beach for a passing ship. Hopes quickly dashed to nopes as the ship failed to take notice of my Herculean gyrations. No, I don’t think I can dance.
If I ever get out of this mess I swear to you that I will enact a law that requires all ships on horizons to carefully observe the islands they pass within shouting distance. Seems like only good form.
I just had another vision, this time one of terrible darkness. That reminds me. It’s time to watch the Super Bowel.
Abyss Island: S1E8 – A Filthy Scramble for Immunity and a Splurge
I was informed by the producers of Survivor: Abyss Island that even though I’m the only contestant, it has already been decided by the powers that be I will not be invited back to participate in season two, All Stars – the Re-Abyssening.
That was a body blow to the ego. That hurt. Whatever. I haven’t got time for the pain. I have to do what I always do and soldier on, chin up, and all that. I still got a job to do.
It was a week of twists and turns, including a reward challenge and the delicious taste of victory (jalapeño poppers, pizza and chicken). The producers inexplicably delayed the reward challenge until Thursday throwing off the timing of my entire existence.
Suddenly another Saturday and another immunity challenge was at hand. Tree mail contained cryptic portends:
Fuck, damn, shit
Boobs and gonad
If you don’t find them fast
It will really be too bad
I have to admit. I had no clue (aside from the actual one in my hands) about what to expect.
Continue reading →