On February 20, 2009, one month into the presidency of The One Who Lowers Sea Levels, a humble insignificant blog debuted called Manhattan Infidel.
Well it’s eight years later and this humble, insignificant blog has turned into, well, a very humble and very insignificant blog with only three regular readers (not counting the NSA).
As I do every anniversary a theme is chosen. This year it is the Vulcan mating ritual of the Pon Farr. (Pon Farr not valid where prohibited by law. Do not Pon Farr if you are taking nitrates for chest pain as it may cause an unsafe drop in blood pressure.)
C.H.E. from somewhere in the alligator-infested swamps of Florida writes, “Manhattan Infidel, parted from me and never parted. Never and always touching and touched. I await you.”
You’re paying for dinner, correct?
L.T. of the savage land of Astoria, Queens writes, “One touches the other; in order to feel each other’s thoughts.”
Hey look lady, you have no claim on me. It was just one night of passion.
A.P. of Poughkeepsie, New York writes, “How do independent contractors choose their mate? Haven’t you ever wondered?”
To which I responded, “I guess the rest of us assume that it’s done quite logically.”
A.P. of Poughkeepsie: “No. No. It is not. We shield it with ritual and customs shrouded in antiquity. You who use a W2 have no conception. It strips our minds from us. It brings a madness which rips away our veneer of civilization. I’d hoped I would be spared this, but the ancient drives are too strong. Eventually, they catch up with us, and we are driven by forces we cannot control to return home and take a wife.”
Remind me not to shake your hand next time we see each other.
M.P.A. of confederate territory, Maryland writes, “Would you make me some of that plomeek soup?”
Do I look like a cook?
O.B. of California writes, “Here begins the act of combat for possession of the woman, T’Pring. As it was at the time of the beginning, so it is now. Bring forth the lirpa.”
You know what, I’ll just use Tinder thank you. Pon Farr my ass.
D.B. formerly of Philadelphia but now living out of suitcases trying to stay one step ahead of the Feds writes, “The air is the air. What can be done?”
Well for starters reduce your carbon footprint you climate change denier!
E.K. retired and living in luxury somewhere in NYC writes, ““I burn T’Pau. My eyes are flame. My heart is flame.”
Change your saline solution and stop eating so much spicy food.
S.D. of Minneapolis writes, “It is said, thy Vulcan blood is thin.”
I have very poor circulation. That’s why my hands and feet are always cold as ice.
LSP of Lone Star Parson writes, “You will instruct Mr. Chekov to plot course for the nearest starbase, where I must surrender myself to the authorities.”
Chekov? I knew you had shady ties to the Russians.
Bob of Bob’s Blog writes, “Manhattan Infidel, lock me away. I do not wish to be seen. I cannot. No blogger could explain further.”
Is this about those pictures on your iPhone? Come on I have over 600 photos of my penis on my phone. You don’t see me complaining do you?
J.B. of Chicago, sometimes known as D.N. writes, “You have become much known among our people Manhattan Infidel, almost a legend. And as the years went by, I came to know that I did not want to be the consort of a legend.”
But I’m wearing sexy underwear!
And there you have it. Eight years of Manhattan Infidel. Will there be eight more years? I don’t know. For I have killed my captain and my friend.
Okay so he was getting on my nerves. Like you’ve never killed anybody.