The Uncle Drinky Scale of Interwebs Affection (tm):

a) Those of you whom Uncle Drinky doesn't even know; he still loves you.
b) Those of you whom Uncle Drinky knows marginally only via the interwebs; he loves you.
c) Those of you whom Uncle Drinky knows well via the interwebs; he really loves you.
d) Those of you whom Uncle Drinky knows in real life; he loves y'all so much.
e) Those of you whom Uncle Drinky has known in real life for a while and is dear friends with; his love, it is nigh-unto boundless.

f) Those of you who know damn well who Uncle Drinky is talking about, those of you that know Uncle Drinky, and he knows you, and we're like a fucking box of Peeps, with our sides all melted together so that we're practically one big slab of squishy sugar?

Well, Uncle Drinky loves the living hell fuck shit piss ass out of you.

And he means that in the best possible way.

Seriously.

Hell yeah.

"This song goes out to all you modern day troubadours out there....and I think I know who you are." -- "Alienation's For The Rich" - TMBG
Dear Interwebs,

PROVE IT.

Love,

b
Reasons to love my interwebs friends even more, #64,788:

When told that I will soon be On Call for Jury Duty, [profile] livenud made me this:

11 Angry Men and 1 Who's Really Having a Pretty Good Time
I just made a companion piece to this:



AND THIS IS IT:



EDIT: Permission to steal granted.
Having a pretty unique handle on the interwebs makes you find strange things when you google yourself, especially if you've made all of your Flickr photos "Free use, attribution only" on Flickr.

I mean, I'm not totally stunned that a photo I took is featured in the About.com article about thongs, but...

...

Just right click, download, and watch this.

It's a good song, and...

Well, yeah.

b

EDIT: My flickr photos are all useable by anybody for any reason, as long as they credit me and they earn no money from it. Fair use, baby!
Dear Interwebs,

In the three days (!!!) we have been apart, I have missed you so much.
Am still in Seattle, and must abandon you for another few hours.
Soon I will be back to you.

I'm so sorry I left, baby.

I'm'a hump the SHIT outta you when I get back.

Love,

benjamin lee sTone
In case you can't be arsed to listen to my phone post--in which case, you're a fucker--I'll be alone in my house this weekend, with absolutely fuckall in the line of  obligations--with the exception of going to Effingham on Saturday night to marry some people to each other.

Time for booze and foul-smelling food and foreign films and too much interwebs.

Help me.

benjamin
As though H.G. Wells weren't brilliant enough for predicting/advocating things like feminism and air conditioning and portable television sets and video recordings, et cetera, all in the 19th century, check this shit out.

I'm reading his book The Conquest of Time (1940) {EDIT: A Non-Fiction Book} right now, and dig this passage:

He can contrive urban and suburban roads that will carry him at his ease to air-port, sea-port, or wherever he wants to go...before very long he will be able to summon everything there is to be seen, every machine, every show, every living thing, every masterpiece and movement, in its utmost vitality and in any detail, to his study table; he can hear all the music in the world, and, if he wants to do so, all life's edifying discords. All this he will will be able to do whenever he chooses to do so as a species. For all this we have chapter and verse. The experiments have been made; the samples pass muster...these are man's present possibilities; and without haste and without delay he can complete his material conquest. He will soon be able to talk to anyone anywhere , and laugh at the tides and seasons that once chased his hunted heart-beats round the year.

Am I wrong, or did this Brilliant Bastard just predict suburban sprawl and highways, a vague concept of the cell phone, AND THE MOTHERFUCKING INTERNET?!

Why don't we have a fucking HERBERT GEORGE WELLS day every year?

benjamin

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