I'M OFF

Well, here we are, then. Last article. Well, not last article, I'll be sending writings to Chefelf to stick up somewhere, but this is the last Fully Ramblomatic article before I skedaddle. Yes, on Sunday the 2nd of November, by the time I usually put up Monday's update I'll be in a car mid-way from here to Heathrow Airport, there to catch a flight to Brisbane. I'm already thinking of flowery ways to describe airline food.

So, the daily updates of Fully Ramblomatic are being packed in. I'm sure this will devastate the ten or eleven people who read the page regularly, but this is just how things must be. My time can be better devoted to the rewrite of my novel, getting a life, and flicking elastic bands at earwigs.

But fear ye not! The archives will remain, at least until my lease on the domain name runs out in July of next year. I may be able to get back onto the server at some point, but not immediately, and I definitely won't be updating daily. Doing so for the last 'yonk' has turned me into a withdrawn social retard, and while this could perhaps describe me beforehand as well, the updating thing certainly didn't help.

I've been trying to think of what to put in this, the last update, and eventually I decided on looking back over the last year and a bit and recapping just what we have learned from the experience.

So, a year and a bit of philosophising, and ruminating, and opinionating, and swearing my little cocking bastard head off. What have we learned?

We've learned that you can get a maximum of three updates out of the word 'orgasm', two of which will be reaching a bit.

We've learned that the makers of the Matrix trilogy have absolutely no regard for that portion of the human race who do not constantly wear shades and faggy black leather.

We've learned that the woman from the Daredevil film suffered from Attention Deficit Disorder.

We've learned that one should never give weekend updaters too much leeway.

We've learned that Jedi Knights have a really pisspoor pension plan.

We've learned that there is no such thing as the absolute zenith of nappy technology.

We've learned that Anne Rice is a dangerous lunatic who should use a word processor programmed to deliver a massive electric shock whenever she types the word 'sex'.

We've learned that you should never trust English professors who stick computer chips in their arms, breakfast cereal mascots, Stephen King, the Borg collective, vegetarians, Christians, Microsoft Word helpers and people who put five exclamation marks on the ends of their statements.

So, that's just about it. I'm off, and I won't have a place to stick all my really funny ideas anymore. So I'd better get this one over with quickly, since it just came to me as I was writing:

THE SIMS: A NOVELISATION

Wendy walked stiffly into the house, the door slamming rapidly shut behind her as she entered, and stopped. There, applauding a potted plant in the corner, was Brad! Instantly fury began to well inside Wendy. How could he act as if nothing had happened, when she had caught him hugging that slut Cheryl from two doors down! As if sensing the sudden drop of temperature in the room, Brad turned, and his gaze met Wendy's. A shamefaced air surrounded his unchanging expression, and for an instant there was immediate understanding on behalf of both parties. Wendy placed her hands on her hips and tapped her foot for a few seconds, until Brad trudged over and stood a couple of feet in front of her.

For several seconds they stared into each other's eyes without a word, then Brad opened his mouth to speak.

"Mountain," he said.

"Mountain," replied Wendy.

Sorry, I just had to get that down.

So, this is more or less it, then. The End, at least for now. And if I learned anything at all from the film 'Grease', it's that tight-fitting vests never make you look anything other than gay. But it also taught me to finish on a song.

(orchestra starts up)

Liiiiiiiiife,
Is biggerrrrrr.
It's biggerrrrrr than you, and you are not me.
The lengths that I will go to,
The distance in your eyes,
Oh no, I've saaaaaaaaaid too much,
I set it uuuuuup.

That's me in the cornerrrrr,
That's me in the spot, light,
Losing my religion,
Trying to keep up with you,
And I don't know if I can do it,
Oh no, I've saaaaaaaaaid too much,
I haven't said enoooooough.
I thought that I heard you laughing,
I thought that I heard you siiing,
I think I thought I saaaaaaw you try.

Every whisper,
Of every waking hour,
I'm choosing my confessions
Trying to keep an eye on you,
Like a hurt lost and blinded fool,
Oh no, I've saaaaaaaaaid too much,
I set it uuuuuup.

Consider this,
The hint of the centuryyyy,
Consider this.
The slip that brought me to my knees failed,
What if all these fantasies,
Come flailing around,
Now I've saaaaaaaaid too much,
I thought that I heard you laughing,
I thought that I heard you siiiing,
I think I thought I saaaaaaw you try,

But that was just a dream,
That was just a dream

That's me in the cornerrrrr,
That's me in the spot, light,
Losing my religion,
Trying to keep up with you,
And I don't know if I can -

(gunshot)

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