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July 19, 2001About three summers ago my mom bought me a Tomogotchi. Remember those? They were like these virtual pets you wore on a keychain, and depending on how you cared or neglected your, ah, pixelated blob, it could turn into a full human (with wings) or possibly, sadly, something slightly less cuddly. a three-legged duck with IBS, for instance. Guess which one I produced. An angel, you say? You're so sweet, but no, it was closer to the latter.So I'm looking at this website and it's kind of like my public Tomogotchi. Neglected, hideously deformed, unloved...sound familiar? That's because it ends up like this three or four times a year. Please don't take it personally. I'm not saying fuck off to the public. It's just that my short attention span results in the withering and putrefication of long-term projects. This is why I like sitcoms, Polaroids, McDonald's, and Raymond Carver -- they don't take sustained attention to glean pleasure and satisfaction. In time we'll give you something worth reading. Until then, call me Curmudgeon. posted by Fender Bender at 4:21 PM
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