LumpenBlog Redux: The Saga Concludes

28 05 2007

(First published Feb 16, ’05)

This is the new home of LitBlogs. Welcome to a new season of finding interesting stuff. I know this idea has been asleep for awhile and I don’t honestly know how long it will stay awake, but for as long as I can keep it up, I’ll bring you new and not-so-new sites that are playing with the blog as art form.

To start with, the impetus for reviving LitBlogs is the news that Dan Roentsch has brought the current LumpenBlog storyline to a, well, startling and hilarious conclusion. A conclusion that includes a blimp–yes, blimp is what I said and blimp is what I meant–and the mysterious Mickey Snaketail. I won’t give it away, but it seems Nefertiti Snorkjutt and Desmond Cork have hunted down the infamous Bruce and Lola (otherwise known as the Babecat) with the help of a team of detectives and the two of them are, um, rocking a, well, dumpster.

“Time to track down a misogynist, boys,” I said. They mumbled amongst themselves, seated on the metal chairs in my Belverton basement. Six men, all in black suits with red ties, and one, by the name I believe of Ervin, or maybe Irving, with an ivory-handled pistol strapped to his hip.

“We’re gonna go through that guy like crap through a goose,” rasped Ervin (or Irving), “the way the Carthaginians did at Ostium!”

The boys used their connections in the hotel and food-service industries–waiters, waitresses, cleaning ladies, front-desk bastards, managers, and hotel dicks (whom I despise as a class)–to shut Bruce and the victimized Lola out of all inns, motels, and hotels.

Ervin reported their progress to me. “We’re gonna squeeze that misogynist bastard. We’ve got the beds over here and the breakfasts over there and the enemy in the middle. We’re gonna hold him by the nose and kick him in the ass! We’re gonna gut that bastard on two fronts, the way the Parthians gutted the legions of Publius Crassus!”

“Lovely, Ervin,” I said, circling him. “Or is it Irving?”

He did say something, as I recall, but I’m not really sure what it was, because the phone rang–his cell or mine, I don’t know anymore–and one of the other hired dicks reported that they found a dumpster rocking in the alley behind the Belverton Improv comedy club.

“Comedian groupies,” I said to the man on the receiving cell, “have disgusting kinks.”

“Yah, Ms. Snorkjutt,” said the caller. He blew smoke into the receiver like he was written by Raymond Chandler. “But I dunno if a comedian could hold his own like this. Citizens on the scene say this thing’s been rocking for going on three hours.”

“My God …” I said. “It is Bruce!”

If you don’t laugh so hard tears are running down your leg, you’ve got no sense of humor left. Go catch up with whatever you missed. I spent two hours reading it all the other night and I could barely breathe by the time I was finished.

Then when you’ve done that, come back here. In a day or two I’ll have a review of a new site that’s kind of hard to describe. Part blog, part personal diary, part rambling stream-of-consciousness spilling over the page like an uncontrollable bladder, there’s nothing else quite like it on the net. And as soon as I figure out how to describe it, you’ll find the description here. Til then.

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