can't sleep for thinking, set my head a-reeling
It's been a while since I've updated in here, hasn't it? Ah well.
First of all, there was that little incident on my big brother Mannie being irrationally angry at the halfling Frodo for being insensitive in his manners towards his step-son's death. I could go on a lengthly diatribe on how judging and oppressing others by your own subjective morality is fascist but I will refrain from doing so.
So I will direct my attention to this: I am removing Frodo and his aborted children from their so-called 'solitary imprisonment' in a single cell together on several reasons. One, I believe they have stayed long enough and have perhaps learned their lesson, whatever it was, whatever you had intended for them. Two, I work right next to their cell and their constant sing-alongs of hobbit drinking songs is starting to grate my nerves. And three, as much as I enjoyed recording this incident on my tapestries with the sweaty High King of Arda with bloodshot eyes, stammer, and a needle sticking out of his arm plucking a bejeweled-eyed halfling out of a party in a stupor amused me, the absence of Frodo in Middle Earth has been quite detrimental to my work. Where I would usually record daily amusements of troubles and overuse of scathing language and snobbery, Frodo's absence has reduced the subjects of my tapestries to an endless amount of sexual encounters and exploits between these Middle Eartheans who copulate like fucking jackrabbits.
Big brother Manwë, I don't fucking care about your little lesson to Frodo. You're not the one who's reproducing the fucking bathhouses of Pompeii into your loom. And I'm getting pretty damn tired of staring at the infinite ways a Middle Earthean can manipulate a dick.
Námo happily gave me the keys to Frodo's cell. An unhappy Vairë makes an unhappy Námo, period.
And Mannie, if you object, I have recordings of the sexual escapades of which I have been forced to weave as history. Hours and hours and hours of recordings to subject you to. In brilliant colour, in great detail, in Dolby Digital Sound.
YOU MUST UNDERSTAND THE PAIN I RECEIVE FROM THIS. IT IS ENOUGH TO DRIVE ANYONE INTO UNLOADING THE FUCKING SEA UP THE MORTALS' COLLECTIVE ASSES IN A COLASSAL ENEMA OF OMNIPOTENT FRUSTRATION.
Now then, I'm finished.
*goes off singing to self*
First of all, there was that little incident on my big brother Mannie being irrationally angry at the halfling Frodo for being insensitive in his manners towards his step-son's death. I could go on a lengthly diatribe on how judging and oppressing others by your own subjective morality is fascist but I will refrain from doing so.
So I will direct my attention to this: I am removing Frodo and his aborted children from their so-called 'solitary imprisonment' in a single cell together on several reasons. One, I believe they have stayed long enough and have perhaps learned their lesson, whatever it was, whatever you had intended for them. Two, I work right next to their cell and their constant sing-alongs of hobbit drinking songs is starting to grate my nerves. And three, as much as I enjoyed recording this incident on my tapestries with the sweaty High King of Arda with bloodshot eyes, stammer, and a needle sticking out of his arm plucking a bejeweled-eyed halfling out of a party in a stupor amused me, the absence of Frodo in Middle Earth has been quite detrimental to my work. Where I would usually record daily amusements of troubles and overuse of scathing language and snobbery, Frodo's absence has reduced the subjects of my tapestries to an endless amount of sexual encounters and exploits between these Middle Eartheans who copulate like fucking jackrabbits.
Big brother Manwë, I don't fucking care about your little lesson to Frodo. You're not the one who's reproducing the fucking bathhouses of Pompeii into your loom. And I'm getting pretty damn tired of staring at the infinite ways a Middle Earthean can manipulate a dick.
Námo happily gave me the keys to Frodo's cell. An unhappy Vairë makes an unhappy Námo, period.
And Mannie, if you object, I have recordings of the sexual escapades of which I have been forced to weave as history. Hours and hours and hours of recordings to subject you to. In brilliant colour, in great detail, in Dolby Digital Sound.
YOU MUST UNDERSTAND THE PAIN I RECEIVE FROM THIS. IT IS ENOUGH TO DRIVE ANYONE INTO UNLOADING THE FUCKING SEA UP THE MORTALS' COLLECTIVE ASSES IN A COLASSAL ENEMA OF OMNIPOTENT FRUSTRATION.
Now then, I'm finished.
*goes off singing to self*