John Turningpin’s Workload of Fear

A strange, ugly thing has appeared in my inbox, dear Reader.

Eventually, this thing will transform itself into money, something I seem to have offended somehow because it has been so cold and distant recently. In the short term, however, this thing is called hell, a translation project shat out by Belial himself that will unrepentantly gobble up my nights, my weekends, and — if not for sweet, sweet alcohol — my sanity.

October 15 is the date upon which I lash this project to a feathered shaft and fire it back into the stygian depths from whence it crawled, but until then, I regret that posting will be sporadic.

I have a few posts in progress and a few shorter ones I’ll be posting in the interim, so be sure to keep checking in; however, I’m afraid that for the next two weeks, there will be a comparative slowdown in the amount of witty postings on this blog. And you all know how full of wit I am.

4 Responses

  1. Don’t forget your drinking time, even if you have to schedule it in.

  2. Yep, fair point Billy …. not too mention time in front of the grill … although Sunday night i realised i could have eaten some more salad that night.

  3. 😦 <— me, without JT blog postings to look forward to.

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