Kiss my druid, death metal viking! By Mark Morford

[madokie]

Kiss my druid, death metal viking!
How do you find your niche in an ocean of wonky weirdness?
By Mark Morford

There I was again, just another typical workday cruising Weblandia for nimble ideas with which to stimulate the senses and better illumine the human experiment, feeling a bit more anxious and antsy than normal, but not really sure why.

What could it be? What was this deep need, this itch craving a rusty, rough-hewn scratch, a needful void I couldn't quite name but which nevertheless had, I quickly recognized, a certain tang, a grubby, ancient stink of what I can only describe as stale beer meets hoary facial hair in a pile of really old meat served to me on a flaming sword by a dozen buxom whoremaidens on a creaky wooden ship in the pre-dawn mist in the year 975, gruntingly?

Do you know that feeling? Of course you do.

Suddenly, like a lightning bolt made of gold bullion, rotted teeth and musty stone tablets covered in worm slime and virgin's blood, it hit me. ...




(Full URL: http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/g/a/2009/11/04/notes110409.DTL&nl=fix)

[madokie]

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