The Lost Blogs (34 page)

From:
http://www.eva_peron.com/blog/

Subject:
Buenos Aires!

God, I am so relieved to be out of my boring, stinky little miserable town and here in Buenos Aires! This city is huge! It
is more exciting than I ever imagined! Of course, things didn’t turn out exactly how I’d hoped—remember when I told you about
meeting Mr. X
? The musician? And how he promised to make me a movie star here in Buenos Aires?

The guy disappeared like two weeks after getting here. What a you-know-what! Girls, do you hear what I’m saying!?

Well, things are good now. I just booked a few small radio jingle ads—singing and voice acting—and that’s helped me get considered
for this role in this small film! It also helps that, you know, I’ve met some producers lately… Wink, wink!! LOL! ROTFL!

Last night I was staying at B’s place, who I met last week at an audition, and he was asking me what my dream was. You know,
where I wanted to be in the end? It was so funny, I was all joking with him and saying how I wanted to be the ruler of Argentina!!
You know, loved by all, respected by millions, that sorta thing. We laughed for hours. How about just being a movie star,
he wondered. That sounded good to me!!

B says he thinks I’ll make a great actress—he says he can tell from my presence. He says other people are saying it too. That
makes me feel good, even excited about the future! Who knows! Maybe I’ll be so huge in the movies that after I die they’ll
make a movie ABOUT me? LOL. What a joke.

Well if they do, I told B, they’d better make sure it’s got a lot of music (‘cause I love singing) and whoever plays me must
be able to sing. You know, really be able to sing. How else could they act out the parts of my life going on right now without
me singing for the radio and in movies and stuff!? You know? Someone good. Some really well regarded actress could play me.
I mean, if I really become some huge actress like B says he thinks I will be—well, no B-listers.

Anyway, like THAT will ever happen. I have more luck becoming some kind of spiritual leader of Argentina before any of that
ever happens.

LOL.

What a joke.

P.S.—I think I’m bored with B.

From:
http://www.hannibal.com/warblog/

Subject:
Amazing Idea #45D

War elephants.

I was sitting around last night with some of my other military commanders, drawing up plans for our march from Spain, over
the Pyrenees and the Alps into northern Italy, when the idea hit me.

War elephants.

We affix them with saddles, sharpen their tusks, get them all bothered and angry, and take them into battle against the Romans.
Horses, sure. We’ll bring horses. But just think for a moment—if you’re running into battle and you see me charging toward
you on a war elephant what are you going to think?

You’re going to think, uh oh, there’s some guy running at me with a war elephant and that’s way more dangerous than a war
horse (even though we don’t call them war horses) and you’ll probably get out of the way as quickly as you possibly can because,
well… war elephants.

It’s a totally good idea, I think. War elephants. Say that a few times and don’t tell me it doesn’t send a shiver down your
spine!

You can go ahead and chalk this one up with some of my other successful ideas, which include:
Amazing Idea #44A (Intimidating Capes
),
Amazing Idea #43F (Incoherent Screams During Battle to Confuse
), and the classic
Amazing Idea #12A (Dogs in Sheep’s Clothing
).

The more I think about it, the more I am confident that “war elephants” are not only visually scary but just hearing what
we call them could cause some to back down against our forces before ever witnessing the battle at hand. I can imagine the
conversation, can’t you?

Roman #1: “
Did you hear, Hannibal’s got war elephants
.”

Roman #2: “
War elephants
?”

Roman #1: “
Yes, war elephants
.”

Roman #2: “
Really? War elephants
?”

Roman #1: “
Yes. Seriously
.”

Roman #2: “
Wow. War elephants
.”

War elephants. I will let you know what the rest of my advisors think about the idea, but I’m open to any of your thoughts
as well.
[email protected]
.

From:
http://www.wild_bill_hiekok.com/blog/

Subject:
Spades, Clubs & Hearts

My new wife, Agnes, keeps getting on my back about the poker playin’.

I love her with all my heart but she keeps sayin’ it ain’t a respectable thing to do, and that there are far better ways to
be responsible. She keeps goin’ on about how I’ll never make a worthwhile living playin’ poker and it’s gonna be the death
of me, she says. She throws a fit if she sees me playin’ on the
Sitting Bull Online Poker Emporium
, which, by the way, is one of the few good things that’s come out of this whole Native thing.

Playin’ poker professionally is somethin’ I’m very serious about—it ain’t just some kind of game to pass the time with. It’s
serious business. If there’s a game of poker goin’ on in a town, that’s my job. Better than workin’ in some stage show (no
offense to
Buffalo Bill’s
) and better than bein’ a marshal or even a gunfighter. Those are the dangerous professions, where in a split second you can
end up with a bullet in your skull and have no money to show for it.

That’s what I keep tellin’ Agnes. Would she rather I be single-handedly trying to capture outlaws on the run? Would she rather
I go back to bein’ a constable? Holdin’ people to the laws? A man is pretty much guaranteed a nice hot bullet in the craw
for doin’ a job like that where you make a lot of enemies. But not in poker. Like I always say, as long as you know when to
hold ’em and know when to fold ’em and know when to walk away and know when to run and you never count your money while you’re
sittin’ at the table—well, your safety is pretty much guaranteed.

Poker’s a gentleman’s game. Now that I’m in Deadwood, I wake my ass up and head on down to Nuttal & Mann’s Saloon No. 10 where
there’s always a game goin’ on. Not always an empty seat—but I’m so addicted to the game that no matter where there’s an open
slot, I’m sitting my butt down in it. Sometimes the room’s so packed that the only seat left is the one with the back to the
door… But you gotta do what you gotta do to get into a game, that’s what I always say.

Besides, it’s sorta an unspoken law that if a man’s got cards in his hands, you never blindside a fella. It’s a rule I live
by, and I like to think everyone else does too.

Okay, I’ll check back with y’all tomorrow! Headin’ down to the saloon. I am feelin’ lucky… Hooo boy. Luck luck luck luck
luck.

From:
http://www.william_wallace.org/scot-blog/

Subject:
Scotsmen! Meet up!

Sons of Scotland—you have arrived here at the William Wallace blog, and by making that choice you have taken the first step
in joining me and my other Scottish brothers in our crusade against the English!

The word has come to me from Andrew de Moray that the English army is approaching with over 10,000 strong. We must challenge
their forces, no matter our lack of numbers. I ask that you come to fight now, as free men—since free men are what you are!
But if we allow the English to take that away from us, then we will have nothing!!

Including
this really fun time-wasting online game
—check it out when you get a chance.

Yes, you may fight and you may die. Yes, if you run you may live… at least for a while. But years from now, when you’re lying
on your deathbed you will wish you had stood and fought for your freedom, on that one day, instead of living a life without
it.

Will you join us?

I have arranged for a special
Battle of Stirling Bridge Meet-up
. Just click on the link to find out all the information. The location, the time we’re to meet, and what we may need you to
bring (i.e., weapons, supplies, food, etc.). As this will be a battle won by passion and not numbers, any and all Scots are
welcome to meet up with us. In fact, they are urged to join this cause!

If you have friends who you think would also like to meet up with us at Stirling Bridge, feel free to copy the above link
and send it to them. There is no charge or fee for participating—we are welcoming any and all to this event. Please be sure
to submit your picture so we can know who’s coming. We’d hate to identify you as one of the English and kill you, only to
find out you were coming to meet up with us!

It’s happened before, so… you know.

Join us, my brothers! JOIN US in our fight! Seriously, JOIN US. Every one of you who clicks on the link above and joins us
will also receive the opportunity to possibly win something as well. Something extremely good.

Freedom!

From:
http://www.L_Frank_Baum.com/blog/

Subject:
The Wicked Witch of the West Chicago

Selling china door-to-door is not something I consider to be the best part of my day, although it does take up a great deal
of my time and if I am someday able to write about such experiences (which is my ultimate wish) it may provide me with some
interesting stories. Unfortunately, some days these stories are about my unfortunate experiences with mean-spirited and unhappy
potential customers.

Today was one of those days.

I had gotten off to a late start already, so I was frustrated to begin with. I have been out this week in West Chicago pounding
the pavement. It hasn’t borne much fruit, as the neighborhood is populated by professionals—most everyone is off at work during
the daylight hours. However, I did happen to find someone home at one house in particular.

The Witch, which I will call her from this point forward, had a sour look on her face when she noticed me standing there in
my black suit and brand-new shoes—ready to negate anything I was about to say. But when I uncovered the place setting of china—her
eyes lit up like someone desperate to have it. She welcomed me in, only after asking me to take off my shoes in the foyer,
which I happily did. (It’s not often you get invited in, so I thought this would perhaps be a sale.)

Once inside, the Witch perused the china, looking at herself in the reflection of the dinner plate. She did that for what
seemed like minutes, obsessed with her own image. It was about that point that her children and their friends (about six little
creatures running all in and around us at the kitchen table)
came screaming at us… Honestly, they were everywhere. Under the table, on my knee, in the living room and dining room. In
the midst of it all, one of these little monsters knocked a salad plate onto the floor, smashing it into a thousand pieces.

The Witch immediately flew off her handle, screaming wildly and chasing the little creatures around the room—eventually after
she had chased them away, she took out her broom and got to cleaning up. She didn’t even apologize, quickly revealing that
she had no interest in these place settings, but wondered what brand my shoes were and if I would be willing to sell them
to her.

My shoes? The Witch wanted my shoes. I told her that my shoes weren’t for sale and quickly pulled my things together only
to realize when I reached the front door that my shoes were gone. I asked her where they had gone and she pleaded innocence.
I demanded that she give them back, to which she sweetly replied that she had no idea where they were. I threatened to stay
right there until they were returned, which she ignored. She sat on the couch, eating an apple, pretending I wasn’t even there.

I demanded again to get my shoes back. This Witch feigned innocence. She knew nothing about it and there was no more to be
said. I eyed a half-full glass of water on the coffee table—thinking in this moment of frustration that I would throw it on
her… but I refrained. My sanity meant more to me than this horrible creature and my pair of shoes, and so I walked out (barefoot)
and ended my day right there.

Perhaps tomorrow will be a better day. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll get a new pair of shoes. Because, let me just say, pounding the
pavement barefoot is a horribly painful process.

From:
http://www.joseph_stalin.ru/blog/

Subject:
The Great Purge

In response to the inordinate amount of notes I’ve received—yes, I have deleted every single link to every single blog from
this site.

It was a purge that was necessary, cleaning house and removing the clutter that suffocated me each and every time I glanced
at the site. By getting rid of these blogs (which were, I admit, quite helpful in linking to me in this site’s infancy and
granting me a great deal of traffic and support), I can now move onward and upward without the deadweight.

In addition, you may or may not have heard that I am enacting laws that will require all Russian bloggers to abandon their
personal blogs and begin writing daily for
Soviet.com
—the daily news, review, culture, art and entertainment portal that the government has been working on for months now. If
you are a blogger and you currently have a personal blog, please be aware that such personal blogs will be shut down by the
end of the month. Instead, you will be provided a brand-new username and password and required to produce a certain amount
of content on a daily basis. I believe that such steps will allow the Russian blogosphere to thrive and grow from this day
forth.

Those who are not in agreement with such a change will have their internet connection killed, their accounts suspended, and
they will be, for all intents and purposes—“dead to the digital world.” I suspect the alternative is better than the punishment.