Boob - A -Thon: gratuitous title.

My computer is like a desk of old where I put all my letters and lock them up. My key is my password. I do not have to fold the letters and hide them in little nooks and crannies; I can store them in little theoretical folders. If the letters are hurtful or in anyway offensive I don't have to burn them; I just delete them to the black hole purgatory of cyberspace where the letters that have sinned must then remain until their cyberspace god deems them worthy or banishes them to cyberspace hell. The same place where Michelle Malkin and the Right Wing Nuthouse's stuff is going lately. My computer's like a desk of old. My password is the key The letters, true, I do not fold But they mean the same to me. It's extra nice, I must admit That I don't have to burn The acrid words that make me hurt To the D key I do turn. There is a black hole in cyberspace where all the ugliness goes; I am as sure of it as I am of Intelligent Design. ;) Random musings: I have heard that early on Pierre Bonnard painted his lover and future wife Marthe in various forms; as a child-women walking on sidewalks; in black stockings sexually spent on unmade beds. Later on it seems she was painted as a sexless plain and domestic fact. What becomes of life I say? Still time to join the bloggie boobathon. They take male precious bits as well so get out your camera and flick a few of your precious bits, your significant others precious bits. No precious bits under eighteen allowed. Takes three seconds. That acerbity comment on my last post was so not right Weird Bird. Interpol rocked; it was wise to choose a concert less than a mile from where I lay my head over a concert that requires train-age. I am nothing if not wise. Belief and social life in china anyone??? I thought not.