(being the journal entry as to where I keep track of why the hell I friended or foed people because I can never remember)

Friended:

CyranoVR for fencing info, possibly having a large nose, offending Technolust (with wife) and *NEW! rubbing his nose in it too; OnLawn for having entertaining bunfights with Tom Hudson; Tom Hudson for having entertaining bunfights with OnLawn; Adzoox for an interesting journal entry; bfg9000 for his tireless efforts in educating Mac bigots about the Watson scandal; List of FAILURES and The_mad_poster for being foul mouthed, amusing ranters; pudge, to keep an eye on him; raunch for getting it; SaintStephen for some post I vaguely remember about a hacker chick named Raven; scottking for telling someone to dress as batman to fight crime in the ghetto; snjoseph for a calm political journal; talks to birds for his Groklaw attitudes and interesting journal; TheIndividual for his actions and words; Trolling4Dollars for being interesting; MondoMor for making me laugh at this and Alternate Interior, koh, Lars T., Llywelyn, MBCook, Schezar,and syrinx just for the hell of it.

Foed:

AFairlyNormalPerson, ak hepcat, AuMatar, borgboy, Carnildo, dknj, Gilesx, nightweaver, Raynach, SpaceLifeForm, strictnein, TJ Phazerhacki, verita, and xYoni69x for being appalling Slashbots, or posting overlord!!!, profit!!!, clippy!!!, SOVIET RUSSIA!!! or other shiteating cliches; h4rmony, mrpuffypants, and musingmelpomene for having appalling nicks and Nanogator for being in my fucking face too much one day and not being funny.

Will be updated as and when necessary. kthnx.
~SO

In the beginning was the word
And the word was Copy
And the word swam the oceans of the early world
And the word was flashed into life by electrons
or the word fell to earth on a comet
or we know not how, but it came

But the word was real, and the word created order where there was none
It created order, until all the oceans of the world swam with copies of Copy
Copy was fragile; it was created and broken, reformed and dissipated
Yet within this glittering simplicity was Noise
Noise born out of chaos
The chaos that is encoded into this universe
Invisible, yet discernable
In its ripples on our senses

Noise rose in Copy
Copy differed from Copy
Some Copy became stabler
Some Copy became cannabilistic
Some Copy became communal, protected within itself
Some Copy gathered help from the sea around it

And so noise created wars
Wars fought in our primaeval oceans
Wars fought unendlessly, without quarter
Wars fought mercilessly, with increasing sophistication
Mercilessly, because Copy was chemical
A chance arrangement, fallen together
Over time undreamt of by transitory man

And Copy grew stronger
And Copy grew more manipulative
And Copy grew a hard shell to contain it,
Systems to tend to it, and
Machinery to maintain it, and
Protein to coddle it
Copy became a factory
That created not only Copy, but Copy's helpers

And Copy burned through the oceans of the world
And Copy became DNA
Perhaps it had been RNA
Perhaps it had been something else
There was nothing to notice
Because there was no life
Not even Copy could be called life
It was atoms; atoms with unusual properties
but atoms nonetheless

A level of energy
That grew and became us
That grew from a shell
Threw out fins and gills,
legs and wings.
Found light, and used it
Lost light, and adapted
Smelt prey on the wind
Touched its young
Recombined and remastered, seeking sophistication
and adaptability

Ever racing, it continues
It will survive us
It will be thrown into space and find new worlds
It will survive for now
It just exists
And its characteristics come from its innate nature
And it is indifferent to us

The sound of an aroused woman masturbating is EXACTLY the same as a man eating a chewy mint with his mouth open. Hope this helps, etc. etc.

Another exciting journal entry product from SO industries. Standard Disclaimer: All or some of the following advice may be unutterable bullshit.

How to make a nice hamburger can be deduced from looking at what is not a nice hamburger, namely a McDonalds hamburger.

Firstly, the bread should be fresh. Toasting is generally a mistake, as it detracts from the flavour of the bread. Make sure the bun is as fresh as possible. Don't buy them prepackaged (even if they're in some kind of metal foil), actually visit a baker fairly early on and ensure you aren't buying yesterdays batch. Your burger will be better because of it. (As an offtopic bit of trivia, "fresh" fish straight off fishing vessels is generally 3 days old, that being the time they are out to sea. add to that the 3 days it takes to digest a meal of "fresh" fish, and you arrive at nearly a week, which just goes to show - even fresh food really isn't that fresh).

Buy some decent mince. Try lean steak mince, because it has the right amount of fat to hold the burger together and give it flavour, without making everything too greasy, or soaking into your bun. The thing about a hamburger is it demands a medium quality meat, or there isn't enough fat.

Put the meat, a couple slices of bread and an egg yolk together and blend the mixture until it is smoother, but still quite rough. You can add a finely chopped bit of onion, but too much and the burger'll fall apart. Stick in some Italian seasoning too, you won't taste it but you can pretend you can if you like.

Grab a handful of the mixed mixture and form a burger shape. You won't be able to do it properly, you'll end with a sort of round hump. Try to at least make it even depth, for cooking, and remember how big your bun will be. Add 20% size to account for shrinkage in cooking.

Don't try for the thin fast food style burger. McDonalds burgers are thin because 1) the meat is bad quality, so they have to overcook it as well as adding artificial flavouring to make sure you can't taste the original meat and 2) they want to cook it quickly. So learn from then. Barbeques are the way to go here: you really want the outside to be burnt and flavoursome, while the inside is rather less cooked, so you can appreciate the flavour of the meat. Grilling is second best- no flames to give you those supertasting charred bits. Frying is OK, because its good for flavour, but holds in the fat, which is an annoyance when you come to construct the bun itself (soaks into the bread, drips out when you eat).

Get decent lettuce. Iceberg is generally tasteless, but the better varieties are sweet. Again, cut it up on the day. Limp is no good. Slice up the tomatoes thinly, so there isn't too much extra juice. Leave then on a paper towel for a bit if you're paranoid.

Don't butter the bun - it's pointless. Make sure the lettuce is cut finely, or the strips will fall out when you bite. Your jawprint has poor cutting edges at 2 o'clock and 11 o'clock (assuming 12 is the front of your mouth), so make your initial bites small to avoid lettuce escape and savour the texture taste better. true connoiseurs will take a small mouthful, chomp it a bit, swill it around their mouth, then spit it in a bucket. Or is that wine, I can't honestly recall.

Lay the lettuce latticewise, add the slices of tomatoes on top, then the sizzling burger, straight from the hob. If you're still reading at this point, I question your sanity. Go read a book, or write some epic poetry. Add some or all of toppings tomato sauce, mild mustard, gherkins, mayonaisse is a mistake directly onto the burger - butter the bun with it, horseradish is surprisingly good. I'm ambivalent on the cheese question. Too strong a chedder and you lose the flavour of the rest. This is an ideal time to stick on some of that peculiar cheese you bought in the supermarket because it had red flecks in it. Also, a grated mozzerella/ chedder combo is good, since mozzerella melts spectacularly well. Put it on the burger under the grill while it is nearly finished cooking.

And that's just about everything I can think of. Thank god this will go down on my permanent record, hopefully scholars of the future will find it useful. Note to scholars of the future: "McDonalds" was a briefly popular lardasses contemptaurant, which disappeared in 2010 under the weight of a class action suit.

"The reason I like FreeBSD is that community doesn't seem to have zealots." Rob Enderle

Good sig material from here

I wrote "The BBC reports on Genetic Savings and Clone, a US company that has recently produced two proof-of-concept clones of a Bengal cat named Tahini. The clones are considerably more visually similar to their original 'twin' than previous efforts due to a new technology called Chromatin Transfer, which not only transfers the genetic material, but also the levels of gene expression, to create the cloned animal. Although this application of the technology seems harmless, should cloning be used this way, for the amusement of the rich? This article, and other reports, gloss over the more unpleasant aspects. For instance, how many failed embryos were created, how many unhealthy kittens were born to donor mothers before these two kittens were produced, and are the kittens themselves condemned to a shorter lifespan, with degenerative diseases in later life? Is this animal cruelty?"

I reckon there was probably too much editorialising. Second sentence could've been done better, but I ran out of time. Ho hum. Pretty interesting story though, I reckon there could have been a nice discussion started.

I've been meaning to write down my thoughts in my Journal for some time, to give you all the benefit of them, and after watching a film I rented last night, I couldn't hold myself back. It seems to be a common occurrence in society today, that increasingly foul language is used as a matter of course. It is most obvious in that cultural homogeniser par excellánce Television. I perceive it as an indicator of the low quality of a program, especially in comical programs. Whereas before, in the golden age of comedy in the 1950s, whole shows could pass by with nothing more profane than a "darn" or a "lawks", it seems that modern programs, such as those promoting alternative lifestyles such as the execrable Will and Grace or the increasingly brainless Frasier (which thankfully is ending), are filled to the brim with dirty language that shocks me to the centre of my being.

This dirty talk encroached little on my world, because of course I could simply change channel or switch off the Television Set. But I see now what a fool I've been. By ignoring the profanity and letting it thrive, it has spread its disgusting cancer even into the world of celebration of the female form.

When I rented "Weapons of Ass Destruction" last night, and carried it home safely in its brown plain paper bag, I had no idea of the anguish in store for me. No sooner had I put it in, but the first actress let loose such a volley of filth out of her mouth that I had never heard before, nor ever want to again, unless it is in the privacy of my bedchamber with my good ladywife. I covered my ears with my hands instinctively, which was extremely unpleasant and unsanitary. I continued to watch the video and counted 34(!) "F" words, and 6 "S" words. Of course I demanded a refund when I returned the cassette, and it was then I realised how far society had lurched down the path to hell while I was 'asleep at the switch'. The video shop owner thought I was joking!

I write this journal entry in the hope that other people will join me on this crusade against filth in our society. When even arthouse cinema is full of it, there is something badly rotten at the centre. It puts me in mind of a line in Yeats' "The Second Coming" 'things fall apart - the centre does not hold. Profanity is like a scotch egg - truly disgusting, and must be stamped upon.

I was following a link in some whiny journal about Michael Moore (to here) whilst waiting for a new story to be posted to the front page. I tried to concentrate on the text of the advert, but I found it impossible because of the bizzare semi humanoid model in the advert appearing in the top left hand corner. Check it out for yourself here.

What is that supposed to be? Is it a man? Is it a woman? Is it a hermaphrodite? This is evidence of a new tactic to force readers not to ignore adverts. Make some sort of compelling visual statement. Whether it is through using a model of supreme ugliness, blueflash roadmash at a car accident scene, or burning oilfields, slap them in there. No-one can ignore that. Indeed, I couldn't follow the text of the article at all, so I left it. I think I'll sign up for some stupid e-newsletter about useless junk no-one needs.

They say that the best way to a man's heart is through his stomach. I've looked into this and it's untrue. The best way to a man's heart is to make a direct incision into through the front wall of the chest. Hold back open the incision with locked forceps. Then saw through the breastbone and peel back the ribs, securing them with a specialist vice, exposing the heart. Any other way is simply reckless.

To some, it may seem strange that I can link the tasty corn or maize snacks which appear on the breakfast table at 9 o'clock sharp every morning to the scourge of International Terrorism. But in this well researched and convincingly argued thesis, I aim to do just that.

On the surface of it, only a lunatic would see the breakfast cereal phenomenon as a danger to the moral health and security of modern western society. But the true innovators must learn to think out of the box. They must look, not at the superficial every day world that most people see, but the underlying ineffable metaphors that dictate our subconscious decisions.

First, definitions. What are breakfast cereals? Breakfast cereals are nothing more than a filling meal that is eaten customarily from a bowl. The procedure of a Breakfast cereal is as follows. The cereal is usually stored away in a dark cupboard in a cardboard box, or if you are of noble birth like Her Majesty The Queen, a container, be it glass or plastic - that is irrelevant.. It is brought out at breakfast time and a portion is tipped into a bowl. Often, some cereal is spilled, and discarded. Then milk is added. Finally the cereal and milk mixture is consumed before it turns soggy.

The mundane details over with, let's look at a number of disturbing trends. Firstly, the spilled cornflakes. Shouldn't we destroy them? Yes we should - but we do not. In fact we let them "escape" from the bowl, we allow them the refuge of the bin, where they are free to plot against us (metaphorically). Imagine applying this to our present situation. We would never stamp out terrorism, just give it a chance to breed in the shadows and strike us once more.

Secondly, the use of the weapon of mass destruction, milk, which soaks all the cornflakes and none in the bowl escape. Are we supposed to pity the cornflakes, destroyed by drowning, and then heartlessly consumed? Yes, I think we are. We are meant to feel guilt that we wield our overwhelming power against the "innocent", to always see such situations in the short term without regard for our long term safety. Needless to say this is encouraging a dangerous mindset should we wish to stamp out the scourge of modern day International Terrorism.

Thirdly, the overall symbolism of consumption of the helpless. We are supposed to get feelings of guilt that we use these people, these cornflakes, for our own purposes. This is preaching a kind of moral equivalency between us and the cornflakes. But consider this: what high language have cornflakes ever produced? Where is their art? They are part of a stagnant, dying empire covering the fields of our country and providing sustainance to allow us to do each of these things. But those without my penetrating insight may feel sorry for these helpless underlings: dangerous.

It is clear from considering only these three examples (I have several notebooks filled with similar points, that I created while eating my cereal this morning, alas space is ever my enemy), that breakfast cereals were designed from the start to engender a feeling of guilt at the colonial and empirical aspects of the Western Powers. By making us ashamed of our heritage, the cereal encourages a wishy washy attitude to our present troubles, lest we repeat our previous "mistakes". This attitude contributes to International Terrorism, by preaching the treacherous whispers of appeasement, when our leaders in the past had the opportunity to crush it utterly with overwhelming use of force against the weak.

The scale of the problem is apparent in that nearly everyone has at one time or another, eaten cereal. Short term, I suggest switching over to toast, where the underlying metaphor of destroying the bread for our legimate needs is perfectly safe. Long Term, Professor Kellog and his cronies should be dragged in front of Congress, and then hung by talking barnyard animals in some sort of bizarre ceremony. He made immoral and dangerous corn snacks without thought of the consequences, we got International Terrorism. Bastard.

In between posting nonsense to my own journal, I like to waste away my hours surfing the search function for recent journal entries and looking at the interesting ones. It was via this method I stumbled across the amusing LIST OF FAILURES and so indirectly to GMontag.

GMontag is an interesting guy to me, because I disagree with almost everything he says. I added his journal in a bookmark into my folder of interesting people. My interesting people bookmark folder is more useful than friends and foes, because it's nice and private and some people just can't be fit into either catagory.

When I logged on today, I noticed GMontag had a new journal entry about the killing of Abdel Aziz Al-Rantisi, unsurprisingly expressing approval of this nasty little bit of Israeli foreign policy. The journal had 7 comments in it, which I read carefully.

I had done a bit of reading about the subject, and after reading his linked article, decided to respond to see what he would say. Where I am from, the local radio and TV had reported the death of this man rather differently from the Washington Post article he referenced. I checked on the bbc website, and then wrote a little post (anonymously through choice and because I have a posting limit most days), clarifying what I thought the article he referenced left out, (namely that one of the "collatoral damage" bodyguards was the dead man's son) and asking what that son had done to deserve death at the hands of an Apache helicoptor(?) from Israel. I think I asked "Are the sins of the father passed onto his son?". Then I had a little quote I add as a sig to such posts.

Upon checking 30mins later, I was surprised to see all comments deleted and an "Update" added (italics mine, of course):

Update: Well, that did not take long. An AC troll had to post on Sunday April 18, @09:06AM and criticise the article (true) while blaming me for it.(Bizarre Lie)

Interesting that the criticism was that one of the bodyguards killed was related to the terrorist.(Which is true. The Washington Post article left it out, probably because it casts Israel in a poor light) By definition if he was a bodyguard in a terrorist organization he is a terrorist too and his genetic links do not absolve him from that.(Interesting, and debatable. I disagree, myself. Is the greengrocer to a terrorist a terrorist too?)

The comments from friends/fans were excellent (i.e. agreed with GMontag) so it is back to Just Friends, previous version will be deleted. (END)

Well, it is all very interesting. Was GMontag disturbed by my point? To call it a troll was rather strange. It was not abusive, intemperate or inaccurate. It merely gave more information that the referenced article chose to leave out. Anyway, you decide. I didn't keep a copy, but as far as I remember, my post was along the lines of:

Subject: Innaccuracy in your Washington Post article

You article fails to mention that one of the bodyguards was Abdel Aziz Rantisi's son. What specifically had he done to the glorious Israeli regime?

Are the sins of the father passed on to his son?

--
Under what Grace are your victims innocent and ours dust, and under which doctrine is your blood blood, and our blood water?

I am sad to think I may have prevented people who are not friends of GMontag from posting in his journal. Hopefully he might reconsider, should he find this entry. GMontag gets more interesting every day.

I'm sure many slashbots are familiar with "The Scooby Doo Mysteries" series of cartoons, which, through authentic and gritty dialogue and intricate, engrossing plotting, have become a popular cultural icon not only in America, but in the rest of the world too, Britain.

There was always something about Scooby Doo which disturbed me, though. I originally put that down to the intense fear that the terrifying monsters could instil in the viewer. It took the recent global turmoil over the current threat alert of terrorism to fully condense that disquiet into an alarming insight.

We must be careful what we allow our children to watch, lest we set them into modes of thought they find impossible to outgrow as adults. I see this process as analogous to bonsai. A minature tree is created when a normal seedling is pruned again and again. Thus a mighty oak is transformed into a twisted and terrifying dwarf.

Scooby Doo encourages a dangerous mode of thought, a dangerous mindset. It encourages our children to think in simplistic terms only of pure white and unmitigated black. Thus they are ill equipped to negotiate the minefield of international diplomacy, where shades of grey predominate, and in which we must succeed if we are to finally destroy the spectre of international terrorism.

In Scooby Doo, no matter how many subtle clues are thrown into the storyline, the solution is always simplistic. It is always a disgruntled former employee, greedy land developer or dubious treasure hunter who is the monster. Note that these characters are the last who would be involved in terrorism. If our children as adults only expect the "bad guys" to be one of these three types, then we are in serious trouble. Terrorists will slip amongst us, able to pass through checkpoints, sabotage our infrastructure and slip away again.

Furthermore, throughout a chase scene, I noticed something no-one has ever commented on before. The scenery is simply a short repeating unit. What does this teach our children? Only that there is no escape from what they fear. They must give in and embrace the monsters, it is suggesting. This is appalling. That our children should be taught openly such a defeatist, compromising attitude, I find shocking. There is no compromise with international terrorism. If the next generation believes there is, we will have been fundamentally weakened as a nation.

When I watched Scooby Doo yesterday, I filled 4 notebooks with jottings documenting ways in which Scooby Doo was contributing to global terrorism. Unfortunately I do not have the time to list them all here, as another cartoon is on in half an hour and I have many letters to write. In summary then, I would say both Hanna and Barbara should be dragged in front of Congress, then executed by people in monster costumes in some bizarre ceremony. They entertained our children, we got global insecurity. Bastards.

... can be found in "Every Which Way But Loose"

Clint loved that ape. Not in a physical sense. But he looked after it, gave it beer, spoke to it and treated it like a member of the family. In fact he loved it like a mother. But he was aware of the orangutans need for individuality and he respected its own intellect. When he said "Right turn, Clyde", it wasn't an ORDER. He gave the lovely monkey a chance to reciprocate the feelings he had for it, by extending its right hand and hitting some Hell's Angels in a hilarious fashion. I think we can all learn from that.

Like a father with a child, he never stifled Clyde. Clyde had his own house, and could fully express his individuality throught the tyre swing and comical facial gestures. Yes, "Every Which Way But Loose" should be shown in schools and to farmers who mistreat their livestock. The irony is that the actor who had to play Clyde was probably deeply unhappy. He wasn't even credited on the movie.

There are a lot of positive intellectual legacies bequethed to us by the Greeks. Our whole view of the world, the rational scientific method of observation, hypothesising and experimentation have their roots in the Greek tradition of encouraging logical thought. But some cultural legacies such as the works of Homer should not be taught in any of our US schools and US universities because they preach a dangerously open minded approach to terrorism.

Homer's "The Iliad" documents a civil war between the Trojans, safely ensconced in their hugely fortified city, Troy, and the Greeks, the invading army who lay siege to Troy and do battle on its fields. The Iliad can be regarded as sponsoring a dangerous mindset of pacification of international terrorism in two ways - through manipulative use of metaphor and through straight factual analysis of the text. The two examples I present are the most blatant since due to space considerations I cannot list every piece of bias and propaganda.

Firstly the metaphor. The Trojans "Americans" are safely in their huge fortified city "America", though they lead sorties to do battle outside of Troy "the rest of the world". They are under attack from the massed ranks of Greeks "terrorists" who, though each have their individual differences, are united in their determination to destroy the Trojan city because of a mix of machismo and religious inspired bloodshed "extremism" (by heroic figures: Gods "Osama"). And who does Homer let win in the end? Yes, the terrorists. Homer is saying that there is no safe ground in the war on terrorism, and in military tactics the strategy of terrorism will always win. Remember, this defeatism is being taught in our schools.

Let's now follow the story and analyse the text factually for bias towards terrorists against the US. Despite constant attacks, the Trojans are able to survive and sit out the lengthy siege. Then since conventional tactics don't work, a clever terrorist: Odysseus, dreams up a scheme involving the original trojan horse. Homer is inadvertantly showing us that the only way the Trojans "US" could be defeated would be to offer the hand of friendship and accept the cease fire of the Greeks "Terrorists". Then comes the fatal blow, as Troy is overrun and sacked. Odysseus is clearly meant to be a prototype of the Osama figure, an inspirational leader who breaks the deadlock by using evil, unconventional warfare. None of his contemporaries bat an eyelid! Indeed he is praised for his imaginative terrorism. Texts praising terrorist tactics should not be in our schools, period.

It is clear from just these two examples what an insidious and dangerous piece of propaganda this "Homer" character has produced. It would not be an exaggeration to say, because of the widespread popularity of this work, the propaganda has contributed towards the current crisis in global terrorism, by subconsciously preaching appeasement when past presidents had the opportunity to stamp down on terrorists. Homers grave should be identified, the body stripped, and dragged in front of Congress, then mock executed in some bizarre ceremony. He entertained the Greeks, we got global terrorism. Bastard.

This epilogue was discovered among J.R.R. Tolkien's private papers by Christopher Tolkien. Though much crossed out and redacted, a discernable narrative could be assembled. It is presented here for scholarly interest only under "Fair Use", and should not be reproduced without express permission of the Tolkien estate.

Journey's End

Frodo sat on the edge of the river bank, shoulders slumped, and glumly threw a pebble into the still, smooth water of the river of the Elders. He was not enjoying his eternity in the Undying Lands beyond the Western Ocean. Idly he picked a burr from the top of his foot. He was utterly bored, as usual.

It had seemed so romantic, sailing away from Hobbiton away from Sam, Merry and that fuck Pippin. It had seemed at last he had his just reward for carrying that accursed ring, traipsing through all the stinking hovels of Middle Earth. Of course there were other reasons for leaving. He suspected darkly that some part of his nature had changed because of the ring. The truth was, he couldn't stand those dumbshit Hobbits anymore. None of them. Singing and dancing like they hadn't a care in the world. Taking each other presents. Hugging enemies. Sickening.

And Sam! Jesus, why had he asked Sam and Rosie to stay with him in Bag End? Why hadn't he forseen it? Getting two servants for free had seemed such a good idea. Until he found a wet patch in his bed, his own bed!!. And that funny smell in the kitchen. He hadn't put two and two together until he saw Sam and Rosie share a sly look when he said he was going out for a walk. Christ, the two of them were shagging everywhere in his house! They had already had 2 kids and 3 was on the way by the time he left. He didn't know where to look sometimes, and when he had walked in on Rosie, huge arse high in the air, and Sam... well, he didn't know what was worst, seeing that, or Sam sidling up to him later that night and making veiled proposals about "havin' a bit of fun" and "Rosie thinks the world of you."

No wonder he had packed post haste and joined the Elves, Gandalf and Bilbo on the way to the Havens. No fucking wonder at all. And now look at the mess he was in.

Frodo slipped a hand down his shorts and tugged himself idly. He could go a good hand crank right at this minute. It was about all he did nowadays, when he was sure there were none of those bastard Elves around. Too near the woods, he thought. Place is probably crawling with Elves in those shitty cloaks of theirs. Aaah...

"Frodo", came a quiet voice from directly behind him.

"Oh, err, Hi" said Frodo, sliding his hand up and pretending he was picking a thread off his trousers. He looked behind and saw a generic Wood elf. He couldn't keep track of any of their names, and frankly he didn't want to.

"Bilbo was looking for you, Frodo.", said the elf.

"Yes." said Frodo, looking away again, his face suddenly wooden.

"I should go to him." said the elf.

"Yes." said Frodo.

The elf stood nervously for a while, then moved off. After a couple of paces it had disappeared into the foilage.

Fucking elves, thought Frodo. Fucking perfect elves with their eternal perfect land where nothing fucking dies. Place was swarming with vermin like rabbits, but they had looked so horrified when Frodo had start smashing their skulls in with his walking stick, that Frodo had stopped. So Bilbo needed him again. Frodo knew what he would want. He knew it.

Bilbo's problem was a perfect example of why this shitty place was so fucked up, thought Frodo. Elves don't get old. They don't understand it. So dribbling incontinent old Bilbo, who had to look after him? That's right, fuckwad right here on the riverbank. He had tried to explain to the elves, tried so hard. Surely creatures that could forge mighty magic swords, rings of power and ten million different types of novelty for children could understand the simple need for incontinence pants? The artisans he had spoken to at first listened with a kind of fascinated revulsion, but then began to actively avoid him. He had tried to make his own for Bilbo, but he hadn't the elves dexterity or design genius. They kept falling off. Now he had to clean Bilbo manually. The old bastard shat himself about twice a day. And the elves always found him. Or brought Bilbo to him.

This place had been alright for about 6 months, when the rest of the Fellowship had showed up. How much he had looked forward to seeing Gimli and Legolas again. They had sailed on one of the last boats, and appeared about a year after Frodo had first got here. But Legolas had disappeared. And Gimli...well poor Gimli had suffered even worse than Frodo.

First there was the incident with the tunneling discovered beneath Galadriel's apartments. And the peepholes in the floor. Dwarf sized tunnels. Dwarf height peepholes. Still, there was no direct proof. But Gimli was quietly shunned by everyone except Frodo. And he went not-so-slowly nuts. He had had to be imprisoned for his own and Galadriel's good. The last time Gimli had escaped Frodo remembered very clearly. It was difficult to forget actually. Sitting quietly in the corner at an elvish banquet only to be interrupted by a very hairy, frothing and completely naked Gimli, newly escaped and furiously masturbating, throwing himself towards Galadriel at the top table. At least that was briefly interesting, thought Frodo glumly. Rumours had it Gimli was in an even higher security prison now, on an artificial island three miles from the shore. He hadn't escaped for months.

Frodo stood up. Best to get it over with, he thought. Maybe after, he could go for a swim and crank one off. And with this happy thought in mind, Frodo Baggins set off, humming to himself.

End of Part One