Welcome to the 21st Century

Ned Ludd's the name, though I guess we're supposed to use fake names. So, Ned Luddington here. Slow but steady wins the race. That's been my motto since my mother birthed a king after 4 meals, 3 doctors, 2 sponge baths, and a 76 hour crowning ceremony. People sometimes think I'm developmentally disabled. I don't necessarily think that's true, though I guess if it were, I would be one of the last to find out. Such is the cruel nature of my disability. I take the right amount of time with my brain food: masticate my thoughts, digest them into words, and "blow logs" onto the page with a pen. We call these nuggets of ancient wisdom "blogs" in the biz. I'm far from being in the business, unless you mean the short-bus iness. That didn't really make any sense. Part of the disability I guess.

Oh, now you want to make fun of me? You're already thinking of witty things to say behind the back of ol' General Ned, huh? Yeah, I just dropped a bomb on ya. Maybe you should look into my past a little bit more, before you accidentally bite off more than you can masticate. Word of the day. The General. And I ain't just talking about my mustache who I have also referred to as "The General" numerous times in the past.

Ladies.

I'm a one man wrecking crew. You remember when those newfangled textile machines were all the rage and were putting our brothers and sisters of the loom out of work? I broke one my first day on the job - apparently there's a finesse thing with the lever - and people started calling me revolutionary. Suited me just fine. Anything to cover my ass. We became known as the Luddites, and shit got a little out of hand. It usually does when I'm around. I'm good at groupthink. When someone says "wouldn't it be something if we torched the mill," I start rubbing sticks together. I don't think; I act. That's why I have a mustache, and that's why I'm The General.

Valentine's Cheer

I take pride in knowing I was one of the first 500,000 people to view this video. Says I's in the know.

Dis just a little gift from da Stuff Po crew to you. We luv people who read!

Coffee Versus Tea

When this topic was posed to me, I thought, how can I choose? Tea, who is there for me at the first sign of a cold and stays with me during those long sick days. Even coming back around on hot summer days, adorned with lemon, sweating seductively into a cardboard coaster. Oh, and there are so many varieties….When I visit my sister I drink black tea with milk and sugar, other times it is green tea I crave. I have never been one to refuse a cup of Sleepytime and yet I think mint is my all time favorite.

All that being said, the smell of coffee wafting in from the kitchen to my bed is akin to a siren’s cry. I get up knowing I will soon be in the sweet embrace of caffeine that will carry me through the day. I have to shake the thought of a tangy cup of lemon zinger and remember it is coffee who sustains me. That black tea with milk and sugar my sister is so fond of making only gets me through to unearthing the old french press she has banished to her garage.

I am a fair-weather friend to tea. I’ll see tea at a party and we can pick-up where we left off, never skipping a beat. We’ll make plans for lunch or to get together at the pub some night after work, but we both know neither of us will call. Tea has grown used to hearing my hoarse voice pleading, beckoning it when I succumb to my seventh cold of the year and it always comes to my rescue.

But, it is coffee I need. Coffee who at 22 made me feel like a haggard old bag lady when I dismissed it one morning. Coffee who when neglected exacts its revenge in the form of fatigue and headaches. Maybe it does taste like a shoe, but I don’t care. It’s my shoe.

More Mo Kerrington

So you wanted to know a little bit more about me, or you didn’t, in which case you have stopped reading. I’ll start with the most important stuff…

My neighbor’s neighbors have so much junk in their yard they actually had to post a sign that said, “No Dumping”, that sign replaced one that said, “No Trespassing” which I think is funny but in a sad sort of way. I procrastinate about seventy-eight percent of the time. I have never lost my wallet, but once I lost my debit card inside my wallet. I like to think of myself as a non-picky eater, but since I am a vegetarian, nobody believes me. There are a lot of things that I like in practice, but not so much in theory. I have a tenuous relationship with eggs and would rather not talk about it.

Teas and Coffees. And, Rush!

In the world of hot beverages there really are only two contenders. If you think yerba matte is close, you're off. If you love hot cider, great, that's not on normal folks' radar. You got coffee and tea.

I begin the majority of my weekdays with a hot tea. I've never cared for coffee. The taste, simply, reminds me of a shoe. And, I don't always want the caffeine coffee brings to the shoe-like world in which it resides. Sometimes I just want a hotty that will warm me up and leave my taste buds saying, "yes, i know what's going on here. It's a Tuesday. Peppermint, yo!"

I've included photos for you to admire. Either the photography is akin to an orgy or your souther regions ain't a-workin'!

Several weeks ago while drinking my morning peppermint tea I stumbled on a lil' news story about my favorite conservative talk-show host: Rush. I've taken the liberty of attaching the clip below, so you can enjoy Rush's latest. In it Rush concedes his hope for an Obama failure. If Obama fails doesn't that, too, mean this country fails? Maybe it's just Obama's "socialistic" tendencies that he hopes fail. I'll admit that I don't agree with everything Obama does, but I can tell you that had an analyst on any side of the issue said, "I hope he fails" about Bush that individual would have been clearly labeled, by several of the rights more vitriolic talking heads, "un-American" or "anti-American" faster than you or I could say Joe Ray McCarthy.

I won't do that, because I feel the term, in itself, is un-American when applied to dissent. I think Rush has crossed a line, though. This isn't merely dissent, Rush.

Seriously, who takes this guy seriously? I've also taken the liberty of adding some Bill O'Reilly gems below. Enjoy!

Let me know what you think!

Yo, Eye Bee Bennington

Dis me! I wear a watch. I have a fish with an under bite. I put both pairs of socks on my feet before I reach for my shoes. I also write for Stuff Po. It's joyous, but not nearly as gay as an evening with Ned Luddington, that guy knows how to party.

With each passing day I get a little older. I am finally starting to be cognizant of that fact, and I don't like it as much as I should. One day I'll embrace it, I suppose. But, really I just want to build a time machine. It'd have to have comfy chairs and an auxiliary cable plug-in, so I could listen to some tunes on board. Also, depending on the length of the time travel, I might have to install a killer fridge/toaster oven combo. You know, for some cold beer/snack action. But, that's this whole 'nother story.

As far as anonymous personas go I think B. Bradlington is going to work well for me. With it I've accomplished the perfect balance of alliteration and sophistication. Now all I have to do is remember how to spell the damn thing.

One last thing: if you have quesadilla recipes feel free to contact me. I'm compiling a cookbook solely devoted to the quesadilla: the caviar of North America.

Who we is!

We're new. We're youngish. We're hip. Well, at the very least one of us is (hint: Ned ain't the hip one). That makes it worth it, right? It's your visit. It's you. It's a mention to your therapist that you found a little corner on the information highway road that makes you look completely sane. Remember when you did that thing with the cat? Well, that wasn't shit. You found this new, youngish, hip bunch of lefty or centrist or mildly right-leaning nuts that make Richard Simmons look like a square.

You're therapist will ask, because that's what the dude/ladydude gets paid for, to act like he/she isn't thinking about a three-way with Yoko Ono and party animal Ted Haggard (who's the one that needs help? you? me? i think not - it's the ladydude/dude across from you with the fancy writing pen, man!), after you've mumbled along about parallel parking and dog walks, "yeah, well, hey, what was that about Stuff Po" in that delayed oh, of course I was listening, because this is so interesting kind of way.

What will you say? What! I don't know, but if I, we, have any say in your personal goings-on you'll turn, look directly into ladydude/dude's over-paid eyes and in your best, bravest (think Meg Ryan) voice you'll say, "Stuff Po is, well, it's silly, wait, they wouldn't use that word - it's sophisiticated and pretentious and advanced and, well, the shit's all about stuff. You know how I was going on earlier about trying to park before I took my dog, Freddy, for a walk, well, it's kind of like that, but not."

Note: Stuffington Post has nothing to with stuffed bears, although we love bears. And, we love stuffing. A ton!

Bennington's Clip uh da Week

I know you still do this. I do. You do. If you have fingers and access to pitted olives, why wouldn't you place olives on each of your 8-12 fingers and slowly enjoy a fun, friendly, handsome snack? Better still: a lover's olive hand! Olive hands caressing your most erogenous areas. Ecstasy, I say. Be gentle, lover. Don't tear the olives.

Olives are a sign of peace. Or, at least their branches are. Sure, the branch symbolizes goodwill and peace, but the fruit is delicious, and obviously was created to fit snugly over fingers. Yum!

Clip uh da week

Fresh and clever! A double serving!

One down

We, the staff at Stuffington Post, the fastest growing anonymous blog that we're working on, regretfully announce that Fancy Pantsington, a former employee of Stuff Po, was dismissed from his/her writing duties earlier today. Presently, it isn't a big deal, but given Fancy's desire for drama and love of pyrotechnics, we have reason to believe it isn't over yet. As a mutual friend said, "Fancy's a lot like NBC's Brian Williams, but without the fame, talent, looks, or hygiene." We're sorry to see her/him go.

Let's Do This?

Guys, is that the best we could do? Let's do this? Really? Honestly?

What, and I mean who, is going to read this shit?

Seriously, who adopts the pseudonym Fancy? Fancy Pantsington? Let's run this by one another from now on, because obviously Fancy needs a helping of feedback.

Let's Do This

We's gonna get this shit bumped into high, or at least starting, gear by the 1st of February in the year 2009.

Our team consists of a tall anonymous person, a glasses-wearing anonymous person, and another tall anonymous person. We'll have random contributors who will also either wear corrective lenses or be greater than average in height, and you'll like it. Sounds like something you'd like to be a part of, in so much as you read it and then tell all your friends that you found "this site that's like, you know, something ya'll should check out," right? Fuck yes! Yes! Fuck!

We's Stuffington Post.