Greetings, Alien Visitors of Tomorrow

Hello gentle readerfolk, and welcome to a quick introductory aside from your temporary host, Jonathan. Yes, Brian's off waltzing about the continent attacking pigeons and raising an army with which to wage lightning-war on Luxemburg and in his absence, I've been tasked with updating his blog. If you look at the nice picture of His Prettiness there at the right, you can see my Hat of Awesomeness, also referred to as "A Lovely Tea-Cosy" by a classy lady who stuck her considerably large head out of the window of a car driving past Brian and I as we left the cinema following Harry Potter and the Muggle Muggle Voldefahlala specifically to call it so.

There's no real reason why I should be doing this, as it's not like the blog was on a schedule of regular updates that the author would like to adhere to while he's gone, but I have plenty of mildly diverting missives I can paste, some of which might even raise a brief "Heh", causing the reader to ponder "Did I just chortle or was it just my breath catching?". Plus, my ego simply couldn't resist the urge to show my meanderings on popular culture (or, in the case of the Paris Hilton blog I'll be pasting, last month's pop culture) to Brian's sizeable audience.

So, for the duration of my tenure in charge of updating, one can expect things to take a sudden and abrupt turn towards lowculture. There shall be no considerations of atheism or essays on purpose and function, because I'm blonde and a faggot and my skill, if one can call it such, lies in ridiculing the ridiculous. Like Paris Hilton. And Scooby Doo. And L. Ron Hubbard. And therein, perhaps, lies the secret of why Brian asked me to contribute in his absence: his writing is going to look so good and so very intellectual in comparison when he returns, heh.

I'd like to think that in a few millenia, after the planet has reached sentience and destroyed mankind for inflicting so much damage upon her, an alien race will find our world and interrogate our digital archive. They'll investigate the life of famed author Brian Carey (well, THEY won't, rather an alien phd student doing a thesis on early 21st century Terran fantasy novelists will) and conclude, using a series of slanderous articles in The National Enquirer and these particular entries of mine as evidence, that Brian actually wrote the blogthings I am going to be responsible for, and that the abrupt change of style was a symptom of the latent schizophrenia that would emerge spectacularly when he reached his thirties and led him to declare himself "Pope of the World" before murdering a bus full of elderly passengers on their way back from Knock in what Sky News described as "Breaking News".

On with the show!