Illuminated Sausage


Once in a while someone stirs me from my vacuum of discontent to write me, diagnosis mentioning something they read here. And I am reminded that I have a job to do! To inform the people that things are annoying and not arranged for our pleasure or convenience. Why should I suffer alone?

To wit, advice I wish to share with you how Vomitola sausage gets made (and purged!):

1. We awaken, cialis cursing the day we were born. This is exactly the inspiration upon which House of Vomitola is built.
2. We endure packs of humans in a transit or traffic situation. Further indignities are suffered in a cubicle.
3. We review the news of all the foolish things many of you are up to, especially the really wealthy and good looking among you. Your folly is the savoriest.
4. We locate pictures of Morrissey looking properly disdainful.
5. We paste our faces onto things.

Somewhere in there we might actually write something. But it is usually while at lunch, loading my face with brioche and scrawling a few words over a sign about diversity thoughtfully placed on the table. You see, the creative process is a mysterious sacrament that can barely be understood by mortals who do not dare to unpack social conventions and hemlines the way we do.  Just ask Gaga!*  It is a tremendously lonely enterprise to be so right about everything.

Take a moment today to appreciate the artist in your life who at this very moment is steeping in loathing and ingratitude.  They will not thank you, but you will have done your part.  We each have our mission.

*If you have not had a chance today to get properly annoyed, I mean really aggravated about something, I suggest you read the article in its entirety, there is a link to it in the post.

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