Ashkenaz Loves His Spam

It’s true. Nothing pleases me more than a slew of disjointed comments and thoughts. My favourites are the ones about purses and watches; second on my list would be the faceless, nameless people who claim to love me (well, the team, but that includes me as well).

I have a story for you–it’s more of a parable, really, but who cares.

There were two chimps, and one baby sloth. Then they disintegrated.

Oh, you didn’t learn anything? Well, I did lie about this being a parable, but who cares. Nobody really cares much for my opinion. Not even Jake, and he was the one who discovered me. It’s all about Theo, and that Coopid thing. Coopid’s a parasite, and everyone denies that he exists. We don’t even know if he is a he. Somehow, even Coopid gets more love than me.

It’s not like I really care, or anything.

I’m going to morph into a cat now. Yes, and then someone will find me in their house.

Yessssss . . . 

ashkenaz

Ashkenaz Likes Werewolves?

Horror Quote #9

Another werewolf thing. Like most animals, we spent a large part of our lives engaged in the three Fs of basic survival. Feeding, fighting and… reproduction.
― Kelley Armstrong, Stolen

The third F was obviously farting. Feeding, fighting, and farting. Reproducing is for carbon-based life whose  ancestors were amoebas . . . What am I talking about? Well, it’s not me talking (Penny), it’s actually Ashkenaz. The other mortals have had their free-will (which is just a placebo, as you creatures are simply puppets) sucked out of them. I’ve noticed that this tends to happen to you when you’re preoccupied with work. Work is not as delightful as those illusory cats you desperately try to cling to.

Regardless of what I am not trying to say . . . As an overlord (and apparently an imprisoned resident of Jake’s attic–I have no idea how that happened, I swear) it is my infernal duty to pick up the slack of Team Monster.

I hate my non-life.

P.S: Enjoy your cat illusions! 

P.P.S: I really do like werewolves . . . They are . . . Delicious . . . 

(He really, really, wants to be relevant–Penny)

ashkenaz

Monday Afternoon

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Monday Afternoon (With Ashkenaz)

That’s right, it’s a Monday afternoon, whatever that means for you mortals, and I (Ashkenaz) have absolutely nothing to say (that you could possibly understand)!

And that begs the question: why?

You know, I don’t like that. Begging the question is just the strangest thing you mortals do. What do you think to achieve? Is the question going to feel sorry for you, and then give you a golden star? Can questions even do that in your dimension?

For that matter, and on to other topics naturally, what dimension is this dimension, dimensionally? I know you’re all three dimensional, or whatever . . . What I want to know is why you can only be three dimensional. What is wrong with you all? How are you unable to achieve this mythical fourth dimension? I do it all the time.

Of course, I am metaphysical. And comprised of flame. That doesn’t really help your case, I suppose.

I suppose this all begs the question.

Do you think it will give me a cookie?

(A fourth dimensional cookie?)

ashkenaz

The Eve

This is not a time. It is a thing.

The Eve

Why is it always a thing? It’s as if there weren’t enough problems in the world for us to face. Why not add one more? Who’s going to care anyways? So I will shrug my shoulders, pull an apathetic face, and add another burden for you all to bear.

(Feel free to call me cruel.)

This is the burden of knowledge; knowledge is power they say, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Am I not right? Knowing is half the battle, but at the same time, the more you know about something the less wonderful it becomes. Sometimes. I learned a long time ago that there are more grey areas than countries. Sometimes.

When something new comes into being, it is always a perversion of what already is. I’m not speaking about ideas, things being made, or even the natural world. This touches upon the unnatural world. That is, I should say, the world that defies logic.

When something new comes into being, it is the Eve. The eve of something old, something new, something borrowed . . . Something skewed.

But something alive, something which exists against all odds!

Think of it: the first-born mother of the latest aberration. Just repeat that. The first-born mother of the latest aberration. It sounds like song lyrics, no?

(She’ll be coming around the mountain when she comes!)

My point is that if you happen to come across one, catalogue it for me. You would make me a very happy creature!

With love,

Ashkenaz

ashkenaz

 

Questions Of Life

In which Ashkenaz has no idea.

Questions Of Life

I’ve heard that there was a proposed blog post about something–something about book reviews, or something of the ilk, but this thing called laundry came up.

What is this laundry that you mortals do? And why can’t you ever make it go away? Can you not just get rid of said laundry?

And why is Thursday called Thursday?

ashkenaz

Oh My, Life is Being Intrusive

A message from Ashkenaz, the Living Flame:

Oh My, Life is Being Intrusive

It’s come to my attention that our minions have not posted to the blog for around four days. On behalf of the management, I would like to apologize. Apparently these worms have lives–ridiculous, I know, but they insist that it is the truth. Penny claims to be reading, and working; Jon is working, and reading; Jake is reading, and working; Rhonda and Dave are working, and reading; even Brad is busy. I suppose he’s working and reading too.

I must say, you creatures are boring. However, the fact that you are boring is what makes you so interesting–you all know that you’re very boring, and yet don’t at the same time. It’s like you’re all idiot geniuses (if you don’t mind me saying).

Ah well, lucky for us that you’re a boring species, I suppose.

I was speaking to the Messenger, Coopid, the other day. He had little to say of course. Or she had little to say. Even I, Ashkenaz the Wizard, have no idea what gender Coopid is. It will likely mean nothing in the aeons to come. I’m pretty sure Coopid is just a parasite that fell from Cthu–er–Theo’s backside.

I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the least bit true.

Well, it’s been really mundane talking with you finite beings. Have a nice night? And enjoy your pumpkins I suppose.

ashkenaz