May 25, 2007

#131 aka Tagging me tagging you, kapow...



With the exception of MOB, who has every right to tag me - in the plutonic sense amidst the daily virtual embraces and back-pats of the blogosphere, and whom I have already forgiven in my heart of hearts although not in writing (until now) - I would like to give all other blogaholics inclined to include me in any form of future intercontinental tagging event one of two options prior to inlcuding me in any form of future intercontinental tagging events: (A) Send me a detailed account of your suicide by way of visual documentation where you've included an original thought so that I'll have something to remember you by (remember: No quotations!) or (B) Send me a list of seven reasons why seven is a number with unusually high levels of irritation in seven separate envelopes (that's seven in total, not forty-nine) sealed by red wax using seven sets of high-heeled shoes worn by seven former nude models from the Czech Republic (remember: Not from the Democratic Republic of Congo!).

The root of my concern can be found at a fellow scribe's blog HERE. But I'll cut to the chase, he writes without paraphrasing the stem of problematic text: Unless you're spreading the highest quality porn where quality = jism flying across state borders onto eager end-of-the-teenage-spectrum faces and you are inclined to believe that I would otherwise miss out on such essential global entertainment, do me the favour of tagging yourself on the head a few times with any form of blunt instrument that happens to be lying around the room at the time of your freakishly bewildering brain fade. If that fails after the first dozen blows, any sharp object should do the trick. My personal recommendation is a sharpened pencil because the resulting skin discolouration after a few days of inactivity usually promotes a form of rare artistic endeavour which, as anyone who has ever discovered someone who has suicided will tell you, is a subtle way of implying that you were willing, if not able, to leave this mortail toil with an original thought.*

PS 'ave a good weekend, ai.



* Void in select parts of Botswana.

6 comments:

Mob said...

A thousand pardons, my funk soul brother, I tend to share your general attitude towards the whole tagging thing (although if asked I will generally still participate, like a fool, negating my highly prized 'curmudgeon' status for a few days) and just felt you might be an interesting candidate because you are further away than any of the other bloggers I tend to correspond with.

If you can find a way to hook me up with someone in the Arctic Circle, you're totally off the hook from now on...

In my defense though, I can completely see myself dead by my own hand at some point, if that makes you feel any better about things.

benjibopper said...

random taggers do suck - lame attempts to generate traffic i guess, but just to clarify: this one wasn't random - she's an old friend of my wife's.

mob: feeling okay?

Kaufman said...

For purposes of clarification: Mob, I wasn't having a go at you. In fact, I virtually gave you the green light to include me in any tagging in the future. I'm actually going to participate in the Top 5 Eateries tag thingo as soon as the time is right. I have no desire to see you dead, my friend. In fact, the way you go about your work in the blogosphere makes me proud to be associated, albeit virtually anonymously. Benji Le Bopper, I didn't realise that you knew/know the person in question. It read like a random thing which is why I went off fully cocked. Thirdly, I wanted to post something to coincide with the new layout.

The Bottom Line: Random tagging = bad. Buddy chum-chum tagging = good.

benjibopper said...

then we agreed, as per usual.

Mob said...

I figured we were cool, but I was just covering my bases, lest I be burning bridges in the land of Oz.

The wife likes to travel, and I like having folks to look up one day...

And Benji: Feeling great sir, but who knows how long that will last? The happiness of the current life and marriage is such a strange feeling after 29 years of blah, I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Kaufman said...

Gentlemen, if the world were mine for the taking, I'd be the guy Bill Hicks referred to as being the strongest member of the I Hate People Party because during my time on this God-fearing planet I've noticed a significant shift towards the side where a 'fuck-you this shit's about me' attitude determines the way people behave towards others, and I don't mean just the religious prats. In short, there are times when it feels like I've joined this merry band of self-centred numbskulls I speak of. This post was one of those occasions; written on the stroke of knock-off time on Friday when my judgement had determined that I had spotted a breach of the unwritten code of human decency (which has since been adjusted by the party in the know). Besides, subconsciously I'm a jealous mess because I realise there are people out there with more free time than I who are able to submerse themselves more often than I in such trivial matters. As a self-evaluation of my actions, I'd say I was exercising my right to spit the dummy across the delicate framework of the interweb.

BB: Chalk up another vertical line on the side of agreement.

Mob: I don't know of any bridges to Oz which would mean there were none to burn with me (sweet as, mate!), but taking flight on the back of one of our flying kangaroos remains the most promising alternative to getting your skin and bones over here. Some of our flight attendants may even (offer to) shag you if you look remotely famous. ;)

Do let me know if you intend on coming down here as I'm always looking for another set of hands to help me with the weeding and concreting.

You lads have yourselves a good weekend now. Ooroo.