Manhattan Infidel Celebrates Five Years (The Crappy Kenneth Branagh Frankenstein Edition)

Manhattan Infidel contemplates his life

Manhattan Infidel contemplates his life

What is life?  Where does consciousness come from? Can dead tissue be reanimated? Would the reanimated life have a soul? Why do college-age girls run away from me when I approach them wearing my trench coat?  These questions have haunted me for decades.

What does this have to do with the fifth anniversary of my blog? I don’t know.  But my medication is kicking in and they seemed like relevant questions.

When I started this blog five years ago I had one goal:  To provide much needed satire where satire was needed.  And to prove to college-age girls that a man wearing only a trench coat was nothing to fear.  Okay, so I had two goals.  Three if you count getting the college-age girls into my crawlspace.  But that’s a post for a different day.

I now present my five-year anniversary post (the Frankenstein Edition.)  No, not the classic with Boris Karloff, or even Young Frankenstein. No, I mean the laughably bad piece of shit that was Kenneth Branaugh’s 1994 movie.  You have been warned.

Jim from Asylum Watch writes:

Congratulations on five years.  However you are materials, nothing more.  And lose the trench coat.

You’re wrong. Did you know I knew how to play this flute? From which part of me did this knowledge reside? From this mind? From these hands? From this heart? And reading and speaking. Not so much things learned as things remembered. You made me. And you left me to die! Did you ever consider the consequences of your actions?  And you think I am evil!  I’m not evil.  And what have you got against my trench coat?  It’s stylish

Matt from Conservative Hideout 2.0 writes:

Five years!  Wow.  Congratulations.  You do speak!  But Jim was right. The trench coat is freaking us out.

Yes, I speak, and read, and think, and know the ways of men.  You gave me these emotions, but you didn’t tell me how to use them. Now two people are dead because of us. Why?  And those two dead people?  They definitely did not panic when they saw my trench coat.  And they are absolutely not in my crawlspace.

Bob Agard of Bob’s Blog writes:

There was something at work in my soul which I do not understand.

And what of my soul? Do I have one? Or was that a part you left out? As for your soul, try a trench coat.  It works for me.

Chandler’s Ghost of Blackmailers Don’t Shoot writes:

You fool!  How could you know what you have unleashed?  How was it pieced together? Bits of thieves? Bits of murderers? Evil stitched to evil stitched to evil. God help your loved ones.  I bet they don’t have trench coats.

Hey, I tried giving them trench coats for Christmas but they sent them all back.  Some people just have no style.

PeterMC3 of the MC3’s of Chippewa Falls writes:

Do you share my madness?

If by madness you  mean a sober and dignified love of approaching college-age girls while wearing a trench coat, the answer is yes. Oh god yes!

D.B. of Philadelphia writes:

Um, I’ve never read your blog.  But I’d just like to say that the Yankees will suck this year.

I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other.  And the concession prices at Yankee Stadium are outrageous.

The infamous and incorrigible M.B. of Brooklyn writes:

Oh, isn’t it convenient? Or doesn’t it fit in with your plans? Don’t you ever think of anything or anyone than yourself?  Think of those poor college-age girls who are frightened by your trench coat.

For as long as I can remember people have hated me. They looked at my face and my body and they ran away in horror. In my loneliness I decided that if I could not inspire love, which is my deepest hope, I would instead cause fear.  Hence the trench coat.  Though over the years I have found that the trench coat keeps my groin area warm and protected from the wind.  And a warm and protected genital region is the key!  Which is an entirely different key than the one to my crawlspace.

And so ends my fifth-year anniversary post.  You were warned!  Don’t bother to scream.  I shall have my revenge!

Revenge void where prohibited by law.  Revenge valid in continental United States only.  Please allow four to six weeks for revenge to be delivered.


5 Responses

  1. I don’t know what you’re complaining about. When we put you together, we provided a warranty for only thirty days (some of the parts we used were really, really old). We are not responible for what happened after that. Read the contract!


    Get a see through trench coat. Then the girls will know what your intentions are. Afer all, they now have access to free condoms.

  2. petermc3 says:

    Hey Infidel you are ahead of the game. After 5 years in the Soviet Union you would have had to sell your trench coat for food.

  3. Alternatively, you could eat your trench oat. (Never mind the odd spelling substitution.)

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