Woohoo! Back in!

Well, sale it was a busy day today at the Ohmyfuckinggodsomepeopleareinsane U. for your old friend Keyser. Solid meetings from 2 pm until 8:45. You have no idea what self-restraint was necessary not to commit moronicide. But, hospital luckily, no incriminating evidence was left behind… And that, combined with Keyser no longer being locked out of his own website, means we’re pack to the ability to post dopey pictures. Enjoy!

Black.Bra

Ooops

Keyser will spare you the details, generic but it would seem that the security stuff to keep people from defacing the Lair can be a bit fussy, so the address of the computer at home has been “locked out” for a few days. Needless to say, this makes posting a bit difficult. This post comes from a Secret Location (Keyser would tell you more, but then you’d have to die, and frankly the information really isn’t that interesting), but it’s not so easy to post from here, if you know what Keyser means (and he hopes you don’t, since once again, that’s classified information). Anyway, updates as warranted/possible.

Man.Mirror

Oh, Maybe That Explains Why Canadians Like That Stupid Game

Curling

True story. Once, cialis sale many years ago, buy viagra Keyser and the ex-Mrs. S had ABC’s Wide World of Sports on the television, and she was out of the room. I wasn’t really paying any attention, so when I look up at it, I’m puzzled to see some weird event where women are shoving these round things down an ice rink, and there’s people with brooms sweeping. I call Mrs. S in and say, “Hey, what the hell is that?”

Her: “Oh, that’s curling.”

Me:”Oh, stop it!”

Her: “No, really. You push rocks down the ice to try and shove the other team’s ice out of the way, and some people smoother the ice in the path of the rock–”

Me: “No, cut it out, that’s totally ridiculous!”

Her: “No, really. That’s what they do, they” [blah blah blah, insert techno-curling babble].

I swear to God, in response to her absurd attempt to make some sense of this completely implausible activity, I bent over in uncontrollable peals of laughter until the tears streamed down my cheeks, and her increasingly exasperated efforts at maintaining the reality of this song and dance, and it took five minutes for the spasms of laughter to die down.

And then we moved here to Iglooville, and it turned out the joke was on me. She wasn’t making it up!

Busy Day!

Back after an evening meeting that didn’t get out till 8, recipe this after a regular day of teaching the regular three courses on daemonology and Hungarian history. Oh, ampoule and taking for an hour and a half to a doctoral student about comps and conjuring low-status devils. And still I’ve taken the time to post something for you. You’re welcome!

Blonde.Colors

I promise

Okay, sildenafil in order not to go AWOL for months on end (as recently), pills I’ll try to post something everyday, even if I’m really busy. Actually, national security interests preclude me from going into details, but I’m up for a really time-consuming gig, so this resolution may prove hard to adhere to. Still, I’ll try. Promise!

Looking.Back

Are Some Sins So Bad You Can’t Forgive Yourself?

Time.Waits.No.Man

I hate going to sleep. The reason is that if I’m in the wrong mood, and I think of bad things I’ve done in the past. I have a large bag of these memories that sits in the back of my mind. The earliest one I can date is from 1968. Most of them are trivial stupidities that I would be embarrassed if other people found out about them. Some of them aren’t even about me, but there about bad/stupid things other people did that I’m associated with. Some of these I had a certain amount of control over. Others are things other people did when I was around. It seems foolish to feel guilty about other people’s failings, but there you have it. And there are a few that I feel very bad about.

If I’m sitting in the dark trying to fall asleep, and one of these memories comes up, then pretty quickly the whole horrible bag of them opens up and they spill all over the place. Sometimes I can stop it by saying, “No. No, I’m not going to think of any of that crap.” But usually there’s no stopping it. One stupid memory after another comes spilling out of the bag. The memories are often quite vivid, in brilliant technocolor and lots of smell and tectile details added in to rub salt in the wounds.

I bet most of the people concerned wouldn’t even remember the events, even if they’re still alive (and undoubtedly some aren’t). There’s no way to ask forgiveness from them, and even if you could, it would make no difference. The guilt is in my own mind, and I can’t seek forgiveness, forgive myself, or even do atonement. They’re just these awful memories that patiently sit around until their time comes to torment me.

It also happens when I wake up in the middle of the night and then they emerge. Sometimes I have to turn on the light to read in a (usually) futile effort to try and forget. After a few hours, I get tired enough to fall asleep, but a lot of time has been wasted in the interim.

There’s a scene in the movie Undergang where Hitler takes the person papers and other items that he’d kept in his safe and he has them burned. He also sent an adjutant to his Munich apartment during the final days of the war to burn similar items he kept there. I wish I could do the same. But the only burning of my memories will be a metaphorical one that takes place after my death.

At It Again

Yes, cialis I know, ed I’ve been a bad “blogger” (and, advice let’s face it, don’t even really qualify for the term).

For a while, the potential site stealers laid off the Lair, but now they’re at it again. Can’t they find honest work?

Anyway, let’s hope we don’t have too much repair to do on the Lair like what’s in the image here…

Pleased.Craftsman

Someone’s Desperate

I dunno what’s up, sickness but whereas the regular failed attempts to log-in to the site for malicious purposes number maybe a few a day, there seems to have been an on-going stream for the past 24 hours or so. I got home from the Igloo U this afternoon to find something like 65 attempts about which notifications had piled up in the less than six hours that had passed since I went out, and then another 55 immediately appeared. They seem to have trailed off a bit, but for a while it seemed a few were turning up every minute. Not sure what they want, but no doubt it’s nothing good… No need to describe what they’re up to, but it seems rather clumsy.

Reading.2