“Internet traffic froze this morning for a fraction of a millisecond in honor of The Arm Chair Pontificator which published its 3 millionth post at 8:54 AM, CST,” said WordPress publicist, Fr. Peddy O’File.
WordPress Publicist, Fr. Peddy O’File
“We here at WordPress have never known one of our blogs to be so popular, so pertinent, and so bloody Nobel Prize worthy as to inspire its author to publish 3 million posts in just 16 months. Our hats are off to you, Mr. Pontificator. We thank you. We congratulate you. And we beg you, kind Sir, to please sire children with every fertile woman who works for us in order to insure the survival of your manly, brilliant, Nobel Prize worthy DNA. Do this, if not for yourself, because we know how modest you are, then for the billions of readers whose lives will lose all meaning should your DNA not be passed on to another, Nobel Prize worthy, being like yourself. Congratulations once again, and thank you. Thank you from the deepest, darkest corners of all our souls here at WordPress, for being such an important, central part of our blogging family. $Amen$”
Bigfoot Struggling To Walk On His Tiny Feet
“Yep,” said Bigfoot to David Letterman last night, “I would’ve come out and let people know about my existence much sooner had it not been for the intense shame I feel at the diminutive size of my feet. I often leave really big foot prints because I have to strap huge boots filled with rocks to my feet or I’ll fall over like a cut tree every time a stiff wind blows. I’m ten feet tall for Christ sake. That’s a long way down. Life for me, before I started wearing the rock-filled boots, was an ungodly hell. Words can not truly describe it. Forget about dating, man. I mean once a babe took one look at my tiny feet, she logically assumed the rest of me was tiny too (it isn’t, BTW). And even if a babe did by some chance agree to go out with me, she almost always had to help my sorry ass get up off the ground cause some fucking wind would always blow and knock me down. Not a way to impress the ladies, I’m telling you.
Once I put on the rock-filled boots, however, and got given the name ‘Bigfoot’, babes were knockin’ at my door to go out with me. Thus, I decided to live a lie and not reveal myself to the world, and for three centuries, this has been my life. Rock-filled boots and babes. But I can’t do it anymore. The pressure is too great. I live in continual fear of being outed as the tiny-footed beast-man I really am. So it’s over. I hope the world can forgive me and can accept that there never was a Bigfoot, only a ten foot tall hairy beast-man with size two feet who wore some heavy, rock-filled boots in order to not fall down.”