Cross-Posting

In the future, I will probably not take the time to cross-post my writing for Patum Peperium here, but the first time will be an exception. How could I not when Mrs. P found such a delightful picture?

Hell-o

Hellfire Club
FLG





There are two types of people reading this right now. The first group has read my other blog. The second has not. If you are in the first group, then you are probably asking yourself, “Self, why is FLG, with his heretical, sophomoric, profanity laced blog and his strange obsessions with pirates, robots and sex with inanimate objects, writing for my favorite Catholic, intelligent, generally non-potty mouthed internet magazine that has nothing at all to do with pirates, robots, or sex with inanimate objects?” That’s a great question.


If you are in the second group, then you were probably wondering who I am, but after that last paragraph you are asking yourself the same question as the first group. That’s okay, too.


Wait. Where are my manners? I should have introduced myself. My full name is Fear and Loathing in Georgetown. My friends call me FLG. We’re all friends here, right? I’ve prepared a short memoir. Inspired by Thomas Hobbes, I wrote a Latin verse autobiography for this occasion, but unfortunately I’ve misplaced it. You’re stuck with a prose, third person account.


Fear and Loathing in Georgetown was born in Independence, Missouri to a couple in a traveling circus. His father, Roger, was the star trapeze artist. His mother, Marcia, was the assistant to a knife thrower. Her left ear was prosthetic. They met after Marcia left her former knife thrower and joined Roger's circus. Roger didn't own the circus, mind you, he was only the trapeze artist. Fear and Loathing in Georgetown was born in the back of a pickup truck between performances. The traveling prohibited a formal education. So, he was tutored by the bearded lady, who happened to have a degree from La Sorbonne. However, he was also trained in the art of lion taming, and saved up enough money to go to college, where he continued his lion taming on street corners for spending money.

From time to time, I may refer to my childhood in a way that implies that I did not, in fact, grow up under the big-top. Ignore these delusional ramblings.


To return to the original question of what is FLG doing here, well, I lack the erudition and lucidity of the other contributors to this august Internet magazine. As such, I’m gonna wing it. As the United States Marines would say -- Adapt Improvised and Overcome. Patum Peperium is sort of the Mount Suribachi of the Catholic Internet. “Exactly,” you say. “What is a heretic like you doing here?” Ah ha! Did you know that Iwo Jima means Sulfur Island? No, you didn’t. Well, maybe Basil did. And isn’t a place called Sulfur Island the perfect place for a heretic? I know. The logic is so clear now that you can’t believe you even asked the question in the first place. It’s okay. Don’t worry. I used to have the same feeling when watching reruns of the 1960’s Batman TV show. How was I supposed to know that a baker makes dishonest shortcake with lie-berries, which meant Batman needed to go to the library?