A slap happy hello to my fine and loyal companions, who have borne with my lack of postings. I am exceedingly well, and I trust that the internets which so bless me, have blessed each of yourselves in turn :-)
My dearest friend, favorite after-dinner mint, and South American mountain range has requested that I continue her meme. To understand her odd request, I first consulted my dear hellbound friend Richard Dawkins: "These alleged problems of memes are exaggerated. The most important objection is the allegation that memes are copied with insufficiently high fidelity to function as Darwinian replicators." I trust no further explanation is required.
I have been requested to provide seven things about my lonesome self, which my dearest readers were unaware of. Sadly, I am afraid this is impossible, as I have made my heart open to the critical eye of the Web, who have chastised and abused it to the point of disrepair. But in the hopes of passing on my liquidy memes to future memerations, I will search my soul once more.
1. Sarah Nielson was not my first love. Indeed, I have loved many and lost many, from Lisa Bonet to Marty Feldman. In my mind I had oft lived the polygamist lifestyle, mentally fornicating with dozens, nay, baker's dozens at a time! But upon seeing the beautiful face of Miss Bellum, I promptly halted all other imaginary relationships, to devote my full attention to her and her alone.
2. While working in the fields of South Dakota as a child, Pa Jangle -- influenced by a bottle of "jolly juice" as he affectionately described it -- and myself would often dance nude on the nearby highway. Oh would how jolly we were, the breeze flapping our genitals about like windchimes, the slaps against our thighs keeping cool percussion with the melody to which we danced.
3. While Miss Bellum is, and shall always be, my true love, I have grown increasingly fond of RLO in these latter weeks. My dreams of establishing a euphoric den of pleasure in the Sierra Madres with Daisy and Snielson may, indeed, be able to squeeze and make room for the ably-bodied metrosexual. But 'tis no sense fantasizing about the icing when I have not yet attained the cake itself, as my dear father says.
4. I bathe with water alone. The Janglestein family has always preached the importance of liquid, and an absolute disgust for all cleansers, which erode away at the nerves of the skin. I am valiantly hoping that Sarah is also of this opinion, so that no arguments may break out during the inevitable intimate showers which would occur in our relationship.
5. As miss Nielson no longer posts on the weekends, I have pursued other activities to pass the time. These include kegels, mead brewing, and autofellatio. Sadly, none has yet been mastered, and many a muscle has been twisted in the process.
6. When my mother finally admitted the falsity of Santa Clause's existence, I wrenched every hair from my head, and promptly stuck them in the chimney, in a moment of extreme childhood tantrum. Paralyzed with depression, I did not post on Sarah's blog for three days after this incident.
7. For months I have poured out the broth of my soul upon the crock pot of the web. Yet often, my dearest friends claim to know nothing about me. Baffling as this is, I heartily invite any and all to remedy it at this instant: ask me any question you desire, and your lowly Jangling companion will answer for this, the 7th of my Memographic off'rings.