Thursday, June 03, 2004

Statement of Missin' Porpoise

Posed the querulous query, "Hobbies?" We here at the Rubber Bomb responded in the following manner:

Forming independent letters into sounds and stringing them together in order to produce "words." Then (in a laboratory environment/parent's basement), breeding these so-called "words" in order to produces phrases (or "sentences," we've heard them called). Finally, orphaning these alphabetic behemoths in strategic locations whereby innocent readers are most likely to stumble across them, regard them with a combination of horror and pitiful affection and gather them up to read and write them as their own. Utilizing an array of highly unorthodox (read: patently illegal) surveillance devices, we monitor the progress of our budding verbiage. When these bastard word-strings bloom into the full flower of their bitterness... when the meaning of their existence mutates in the miasma of muddled lineage... when they rebel against their rearers and rip their roots from the fertile soil of their sole solid foundation to seek their syntactic framers, we will be waiting.

And golf.

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