At about this time every year, the FSRI likes to sit back and take a break from its hectic blogging schedule and take a moment to thank each and every one of our faithful blog followers. Sure, you could be checking up on other blogs, or checking your Facebook and Twitter accounts for more timely updates on more relevant news. But for some reason you keep coming back, year after year, for something you don't quite get from those other social mediums.
But we know why you keep coming back to visit. We know why you return, because we get in the minds of our readers and produce exactly what they need (not necessarily what they want), and that is a feeling of familiarity and comfort. At Faking Smart! you get just that... A feeling that you find nowhere else.
When you visit this blog, it's almost like gliding into a reading parlor on a pair of rollerblades. The next thing you know you're sitting in an enormous chair (a chair about 56 feet tall) and all you can do is relax and close your eyes. The you start to drift... drift... drift into that expanse we like to call infinity, until every last one of your muscles is loose and all your thoughts are far, far away on a distant planet...
Where a futuristic galactic race is shooting plasma rays at your escaping planetary exploration team! You round the corner and see your ship. But when you turn back to rally your comrades, a plasma ray cuts through your sex partner's right clavicle. And she drops.
In a scream of vengeful madness you turn back and rush the advancing aliens, past your team and right into the heart of the hoard. You raise your woefully primitive projectile weapon and say these words: "I might have been a furniture maker if it wasn't for my father!" and then you fire indiscriminately into the flesh of the fiendish attackers. One desperate look gains you a meeting with your lover's sorrowful yet glimmering eyes. Her lips part to form a word. It's "I..." or something like that. "I... lll..." she stammers, blood oozing from her wound. "I llllllloooov...."
But a directed plasma ray strikes you in the side of the head and a brilliant flash overcomes you.
That's right. That's what we're talking about. That's what it's like to visit this blog. Out.
KWA
But we know why you keep coming back to visit. We know why you return, because we get in the minds of our readers and produce exactly what they need (not necessarily what they want), and that is a feeling of familiarity and comfort. At Faking Smart! you get just that... A feeling that you find nowhere else.When you visit this blog, it's almost like gliding into a reading parlor on a pair of rollerblades. The next thing you know you're sitting in an enormous chair (a chair about 56 feet tall) and all you can do is relax and close your eyes. The you start to drift... drift... drift into that expanse we like to call infinity, until every last one of your muscles is loose and all your thoughts are far, far away on a distant planet...
Where a futuristic galactic race is shooting plasma rays at your escaping planetary exploration team! You round the corner and see your ship. But when you turn back to rally your comrades, a plasma ray cuts through your sex partner's right clavicle. And she drops.In a scream of vengeful madness you turn back and rush the advancing aliens, past your team and right into the heart of the hoard. You raise your woefully primitive projectile weapon and say these words: "I might have been a furniture maker if it wasn't for my father!" and then you fire indiscriminately into the flesh of the fiendish attackers. One desperate look gains you a meeting with your lover's sorrowful yet glimmering eyes. Her lips part to form a word. It's "I..." or something like that. "I... lll..." she stammers, blood oozing from her wound. "I llllllloooov...."
But a directed plasma ray strikes you in the side of the head and a brilliant flash overcomes you.
That's right. That's what we're talking about. That's what it's like to visit this blog. Out.
KWA
No comments:
Post a Comment