(This entry ws originally posted on Thursday, but then Blogger "accidentally" deleted it. I know they're out to get me. They're all out to get me. But I will not be thwarted. So I present a mostly-accurate representation of the original entry, recreated entirely from my notoriously terrible memory. Enjoy! - Management)
Last week, this shameful excuse for a blog began something spectacular. Something that has already changed the face of INTERNET as we know it. This titanic undertaking, this sacred observation of Kuato Appreciation Month, is a true labor of love from all of us here at The Book Of Lies. And I have the feedback to prove it!
Three days ago, I received an e-mail from somebody calling himself "Geodude 19964". The body of the e-mail reads: Why the hell are you doing this? That's it. A single, simple question. I'd love to answer that question, "Geodude19964", but because you clearly have no understanding of what we're trying to do here, I consider you inferior, and therefore your childish query is beneath my concern.
But that's water under the bridge. On this fine Thursday, I have returned from my subterranean sweatlodge to deliver part two of The Kuato Tapes.
Fun fact: Kuato Appreciation Month itself was actually inspired by some time spent in my sweatlodge. I ingested copious amounts of what I thought to be peyote, but what was actually paint thinner (I have bad eyesight), and slipped into a psychedelic coma the likes of which even God has never before seen. As I journeyed through the blasted landscape of my psyche, tormented by terrible manifestations of my own numerous shortcomings, I stumbled upon the perfectly preserved corpse of Emo Philips (who is very much alive), and as I stared into his pale, lifeless face, his eyelids fluttered, then sprang open.
It took me some time to come to terms with what I was confronted with, I must say. Eventually, I realized that instead of human eyes, I was staring into dual miniature Kuatos, writhing within the comedian's empty eye sockets. They cleared their tiny throats and spoke to me in unision. They told me three things. The first thing they told me: the exact date and time when the world would end. The second thing they told me: Beau Bridges is an underrated actor. The third thing I promised never to reveal.
After the tiny Kuatos shared their ancient wisdom with me, they disappeared in a puff of smoke, and the eyeless corpse of Emo Philips stood, summoning a six-legged, fire-breathing grizzly bear with a wave of his frail hand. He then mounted his terror-steed, and rode into the gaping mouth of Scott Baio. Then I snapped out of my vision quest, vomiting copious amounts of perfectly edible coleslaw into my fur-lined bucket.
This experience changed me. I returned from the shadow of death a new man, reborn in the fires of crippling failure and turpentine poisoning. I knew I had to share the knowledge, the spirit, the very essence of this magical creature called Kuato. The world needs to know that Kuato's love is real. As is his terrifying love of barbituates.
This brings me to the aforementioned The Kuato Tapes. In case you missed it in the previous post, or if you just want to listen to it again, just look below and get your Kuato fix.
Enjoy it, and don't forget to join us next Thursday for the thrilling third chapter of The Kuato Tapes!
The Kuato Tapes
P.S. - The Thor dual review thingie is coming soon. I guess.
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