The kind of posting you've come to expect

Last night I was up half the night with digestive discomfort, as we say for the ladies, or painful gas, diarrhea, and a raw and ravaged rectum, as we say for everyone else. "This is what you get," says my conscience, in a whiny, wavery voice, shaking its finger in my face, "This is what you get, Ste'en Quint, this is what you deserve for drinking half of your daughter's milkshake! Gas has overtaken ye! Squirm in discomfort, Ste'en Quint! To the bathroom again! Squirm in discomfort..." Some horrible night I should be visited by three spirits -- The Ghost of Bowel Movements Past, The Spirit of the Present State of Your Guts, and the Ghost of Intestinal Incontinence Yet to Come, who could teach me the error of my ways, or at least not to eat anything after 7:00. FORTUNATELY FOR US ALL there is Immodium or its generic store brand equivalent and ANTI-GAS pills with simethicone. I finally took a couple of those beauties, my daughters convinced me not to sit alone on the sarcophagus in the ruined chapel and that there hadn't been any pirates in Brooklyn for centuries, and I was back in bed by 4, dreaming about crossing the channel and tossing about in a steamer from Haridge. But at what price...

I will continue in roughly the same vein with more rantings about WILLIAM SHATNER. It was a week ago this very day that I gave you the link to Shatner's mad "Lucy in  the Sky." While I was up with the vapors last night an unseen force guided me to  A Steaming Load of Shatner, a site devoted to real life run-ins with the massively bloated ex-space hero. Shatner obviously had to get so obese to contain his wild, appallingly childish ego. We realize that those Klingon bastards killed your son, but for the love of that God-being on Sha-Ka-Ree, get over it. Be the hero of your own life, asshole.

Comments

[Doug]

My friend Gina was recently in the South of France. She went to an ancient church and saw what is reputedly the skull of Mary Magdelene.

[Mr. Steve]

She's been in the news lately (M. Magdalene, I mean, I don't know about Gina). There's an article in the New Yorker this week. Did she go to the church looking for the skull or did some giggling Al Lewis-type lunatic monk just point to an altar and say "Hey! American Go-Go! You know what's in that box? JESUS' GIRLFRIEND'S HEAD!!!!"

[eva]

Who wants to look at an old falling-apart human head? I don't care WHO'S it was - that's just gross.
P.S.: I hear that the human body tastes like pork.

[Mr. Steve]

It does taste like pork except for the cheeks (upper), which taste like pecan pie! And the boogers which .. well, why should I have to tell YOU what a booger tastes like?

[Doug]

Actually Gina was there with Jane, and staying at Belinda's house. Between the three of them I'm surprised the skull didn't animate on it's own and sing We Got The Beat for them.