2.13.2009

Are You On "The List"? It Doesn't Matter

Every human being has what scientists call "a critical period." During this time, it is essential for a young child to learn basic skills such as speech and body functionality as they will never fully learn these skills if attempted at a later time. Right now is the 901's critical period, and I feel that in the blog's fledgling days I have the best opportunity to shape its promising future without much ado. So thanks to some helpful feedback I have already received, a change is now in place and stands as such:

The Bouncer Has Been Bounced: Some people feel that the nickname The Bouncer implies a man of large build, low education, and high douche. This is not me, as I would like to think I possess none of those qualities, though being bigger would be nice. So I am doing away with the Bouncer label and am now simply "The 901 Blogger." There are other titles besides Blogger that I could implement, but all would imply some type of personality I don't want. For instance, I am not a teenage girl with a fake ID who likes being hit on by older gents, so "The Only Type of Person Who Likes the 901" would be misleading.

So I hope none of you loyal readers were attached to my former avatar, and can handle this minor change with poise and grace.

Until next time,
The 901 Blogger
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2 comments:

  1. AnonymousFebruary 14, 2009 at 1:20 AM

    Sweet jesus! You jump in behind that Jap wheel to spin East LA. Key never makes ignition. Staring at you from above the dash, the palpitating dripping gore glob, ripped from now heartless chest, is whispering...trying to say something...you lean closer..."be..be..my .....valentine". You don't believe. Terror grabs at your tightening testacles. Piss runs through the greasy seat. Now the freed heart is on top of your golden locks with entrails wrapped around your chin whispering further into icy ears "i...l..o...v...e...you..forever"

    The scream bounces through the deserted parking garage. You fall. Scratching, ripping finger nails, every ounce of what's left of sanity is making you run ...now crawl ...away. What? That large lump ..mass ...slumped against the retaining wall..with gaping hole where the muscular chest kept vigilance not long ago. Getting away but every inch brings you closer. Only sounds coming from you are "Nooooo....noooo" and from on top, "luv ..u." Inches away from a splayed out leg your bugged eyes stare at the bottom of the sole. You blink to clear the gore and ...read..."Boss, I will always love you."
    vivaldi

    ReplyDelete
  2. Thatcher RobinsonFebruary 14, 2009 at 1:50 AM

    this would be really creepy if i didn't know who it was. but since i do, it's crazy awesome

    ReplyDelete

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