Oh, I'm droolin' here. Sam gives us the enviable role of doing exactly what we want with a comment/trackback spammer, without fear of retribution. Normally, I'd say turn him over to the police for a hitherto non-existing statutory transgression that will bring nothing, seeing as the perp more than like lives in a country whose name consists of 17 letters, not one of which is a vowel. So let's think outside the box for a minute.

First, you take a 12-foot length of 400lb fishing line. The you put a mess of fish-hooks on one end of it, and a ping-pong ball tied on the other end. Now, you take your subject and remove all his teeth, or at least the upper incisors. Then, you bind his hands behind his back, and lay him face down, naked, on your basement floor. You take the ping-pong ball, and force him to swallow it.

There's some funny things about the human body. One of those funny things is peristalsis, which is the process by which things are moved along the intestines 'til they get to the business end. Seeing as the human digestive tract is about 24 feet long on average, and needs about 5 hours for a complete tour, your subject will have about two and a half hours to watch that roll of fishing line unravel, and the fish-hooks travel towards his maw. There will be a lot of comic relief during this period, seeing as he'll be trying desperately to chew through the fishing wire with his gums, but this stage is all about anticipation.

Once the hooks get inside, the subject will have another 2 and a half hours to contemplate exactly what it feels like as his own body's muscular contractions pull a handful of fishhooks through his alimentary canal, and into his large intestine. The pain will be excruciating, but that's irrelevant, as this is a dead man walking. Well, a dead man laying toothless and naked on a cold concrete floor with a gut full of fishhooks, but we've all been there, now, haven't we. Once the intestinal wall is breached to any significant extent, the poisons there will flow out into the abdominal cavity, condemning all the vital organs to a slow, toxic death, and the host to death by septicemia.

At this point, the innkeeper can go for the quick thrill, letting the subject's small intestine take over, with its quicker peristaltic pace, raking the hooks 12 feet behind, leaving the subject screaming in agony until his inevitable death through internal blood loss. Or, if he has the time and/or patience, he can take the subject to a secluded parking lot, toss him out, and call an ambulance. There's no helping him, of course, but it will be amusing to watch him mutate into a swollen, jaundiced, piss-smelling monster while paying $5000 a minute for all manner of dialysis and blood-purification procedures, all of which will not stop the fact that his liver and kidneys have been handed down the death penalty. This could go on for six to eight months, and never ceases to amuse.

I'm a quick-thrill kind of person, myself, but to each their own.

There are cases, of course, where nobody wants to be number 1.

So, I was just sitting here, and I realized that my last blog entry was in something like 1963, and I thought to myself, how the hell do you fuckers do it? It's bad enough when you want to post, but don't have time. What's even worse, is when you don't want to post, when the shining light within you has guttered and died like a wet match, but the hole calls. The hole must be fed.

But I think now, I've taken a little break. I would like to start putting stupid little thoughts into glass boxes again, and have to defend them against Gentoo zealots and Islamic terrorists. But drawings are always good. So, here's an old drawing that I kinda like.

Makes me think of Guantanamo.