That's right, I'm gorgeous; get over it. That ridiculous human of mine is out terrorizing the countryside looking for 'spare parts', so it looks like it's up to me, Wednesday, to educate you dim-witted bipeds. This blog is redolent of B-grade humor and Renfield worthy madness. I swear, sometimes it's like living in a world run by children. Wipe that look off your face you hairless ape--It's not my fault cats are superior.
We'll begin our gothic cultural training with a short novel by a lesser known author of the late Victorian period. The Lost Stradivarius by John Meade Falkner is the tale of a cursed violin and one very unrestful ghost. I have no doubt this story will haunt you for some time to come and perhaps you'll glean a bit of cadaverous culture from it.
Speaking of cadaverous culture, Thirty years ago this month saw the release of Ozzy Osbourne's debut solo album Blizzard of Ozz, The Dead Kennedys' Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables, and David Bowie's smash Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps). Ok, so I'm not all Lady Grey and opera glasses. Sue me. That just about wraps it up for this week cats and kittens. I'll be back to insult your intelligence and look down my furry nose at you next Wednesday.
Wednesday
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