People do things. It's a fact.

I've got to write a quick response to the simmering pile of crap below this post, which has somehow managed to squirm and slide its Brown, greasy trail into this previously pristine blahg of ours.

Something that all (three) readers should know before venturing any further is that Eli likes to string together lots of strange words into strange sentences for the sake of, well, being strange. You may love him for that, but not many people do. Most are simply confused and even nauseated by the unforgiving image he projects of a battered and wasted intelligence bogged down in a shameful, Baroque style of writing. Don't bother reading that sentence again. What I'm saying is that he's bombastic. That means over-the-top. HE USES DEM DUR BIG WORDS, Y'ALL, HURKADURKA. So don't mind him.

Now, I have a habit of actually speaking in person to Eli. I'm not proud of it. It's sort of like picking your nose, which is, when you think about it, a small, self-conducted enema. How this resembles speaking with Eli should become apparent soon enough. In regular conversation he uses phrasology such as "bowels of mediocrity," and "duly noted," and "stick it in me, soldier," without so much as batting an eyelash. This is all abso-fucking-lutely true. If you don't believe me, just ask him yourself. What's that? You're afraid to? That's what I thought, pussy. You'll just have to trust me.

But I'm getting a little sidetracked. What I'm trying to tell you is that there really is no need to ever take Eli seriously, nor should you ever feel compelled to analyze something that seems mysterious, confusing, or subtle. It isn't. That's just the result of Eli's freeflowing writing practices, which involve little more than a deck of dirty cars, a half-empty boggle container, and copious dosages of Nyquil. That doesn't mean you shouldn't read him. You positively should. It's sort of like brushing your teeth. If you don't, your teeth will fall out and you'll need to live off oatmeal for the rest of your lonely and unfulfilling life. Such is the case with reading Eli. How is that, you ask? Doesn't matter.

So what I'm really getting at here is that when Eli decides to call us--meaning Tim and the Real Eli--juvenile, hypocritical, or irrelevant, take it all with a grain of salt. Chances are that he's totally right. But he writes like such a cockfaced stoner that you shouldn't even listen. Leave that to Brown. Lord knows they need something to do. And just remember, if you're ever offered a spot in a play written by Eli, just decline. He's more obnoxious than Harold Pinter, and if you don't know who that is, go hit your head against the wall, because it's basically the same thing.

Much Love,

Tim