The redoubtable Kristen thinks Jason
and I need a blog. Unfortunately, the hysteria-inducing Jason and I are too lazy to put together all the design and coding necessary to make one truly worthy of your time (yep, we don't even have the five minutes it takes to set up a Blogger
account—really, we're that
busy. So, here I am, posting to a deserted site that really has no chance of living up to its name. Good times!
So, I'm thinking about becoming a Scientologist. I wonder if I can set up a PayPal donation button here or something, so that you can fund my opportunity to join Tom Cruise in the ranks of the OT-VII. I'm not sure what exactly that is, but if it uses Roman numerals, it must be good. Plus, it'll only cost a few tens of thousands of dollars. Perhaps this would be a good time to fulfill my plan of filling a hefty metal briefcase full of rubber-banded stacks of Monopoly money.
Some people have expressed concern about my choice of religions, but all I have to say is: I won't forget your utter lack of support when I am mastering my universe. Watch your back, Tocci. Anyway, I'm pretty sure that Scientology is awesome, and I plan to use my new found brainwa—er..."thetan rehabilitation" skills to show many attractive young actresses the error of their ways.
Barring the whole Scientology thing working out, I'm considering starting my own religion based on a series of science-fiction books. If a guy who has never communicated to his editor without the use of voice-masking technology can get a seven-figure book deal with Doubleday, this oughta be a piece of cake.
Oh, and you owe it to yourself to read Wil Wheaton's interview on Slashdot. No, seriously, you were here just a minute ago, demanding I tell you this. And you were looking a little strung out, so I suggest you...uh...do as you say.
Also, if whoever broke Pakistan steps forward right now, I promise I won't be angry.