Belphegor - 10-22-2005 - Updated Tue/Thu/Sat

Just out of the nick of time

"Hurry up and finish the comic so you can drink with us," they said. "Quit screwing around on your computer and come drink with us," they said. Well, pushy bastards, it's done. And where are you all? Collapsed on your pallets like so many unused marionettes. Your boozing is weak! It is only 2AM, and where I come from, that's the time when the conventional drinks are stowed safely away and the shots of house cleaner and swamp water begin. Seriously, are there no drugs that can keep these people awake long enough to entertain me in my post comic revels? Alas, it is me and a tall glass of porter, then a distinctly mundane sleep cycle. Once upon a time, men were men, and sleep was for the bitty little children.

I read something very interesting today that may or may not be from the heart. It's an internal memo from the executive editor of the New York Times to his journalists and employees. On the one hand, it seems to profess a desire to create solidarity among the writers for this paper, setting a new standard of fearlessness and integrity in those who form vanguard of democracy. An admirable sentiment, and one that should be mimicked throughout the industry. On the other hand, if it was an internal memo, it's not internal any more. Which begs suspicion in my eyes as to why. The Times has a damaged reputation in the industry that this memo goes a ways towards repairing, if sincere. So it's good PR to let it leak. Perhaps that was in the editor's mind when he wrote it, making every word in it earn its own grain of salt. That's 1,502 grains of salt, which might just be a tablespoon. Ever eat a tablespoon of salt? Of course you have, you filthy degenerates. So you know how that tastes.

Maybe I'm too jaded to enjoy the world anymore. I should shut myself away like a hermit and only emerge once a month to roll into town for supplies and hookers. Think I could do that on welfare money somehow?