posted 5/18/2012 by the Salt City Sinner
With so much fomenting and "journalism" and whatnot flying back and forth at this blog (or, as my good friend and confidant has coined it in a much more continental way, "bloggue") sometimes I forget the little things. It would be my pleasure and delight to take our few readers who have internet access in shantytowns and under the freeway on a brief tour of Salt City Sinner headquarters.
We have a totally legitimate place of business, easily accessible by the front door.
Well, "accessible" might not be the right word. To open the front door of our fallout shelter cum information center, you have to have a key. In particular, a nine-pound iron key that fits this lock:
I admit, in terms of administrative overhead, having cast-iron nine pound keys forged is a bit of a bear, which explains the limited cast of characters you see here.
Each day on my way to my legitimate job, I have to remove my Guy Fawkes mask, comb the blood out of my mustache, and ditch my superhero costume. I've found an easy and convenient way to do this - I wrap said items in a filthy blanket and stow them in a small tree near my workplace.
I perform my ablutions in the runoff of downtown SLC's street cleaners, who reliably leave behind a large enough puddle for me to rinse the grit of blogging from myself for the most part.
We do have regional outposts established: for example, I understand that Gerald Long posts exclusively from our main compound, although towing the nine-pound iron key to Salt City Sinner HQ has cast an unfortunate penance upon his health. In fact, this is the most recent photograph we have of Gerald:
I assure you he's more lively than he looks. Some recent photographs of fellow contributors:
LawNerd:
ViewFinder:
(Although I would add the caveat that ViewFinder is raising adorable children, and thus is not completely an image capturing robot sent from the future.)
Last and least of all, you must be wondering what the Salt City Sinner looks like and where he spends his idle days. The short answer is: f#*& off. The long answer is that "I" am actually a complex series of neuroses and "Psychocosms" amalgamated specifically to sustain the order of Salt City while secretly undermining it.
Have a nice weekend!
With so much fomenting and "journalism" and whatnot flying back and forth at this blog (or, as my good friend and confidant has coined it in a much more continental way, "bloggue") sometimes I forget the little things. It would be my pleasure and delight to take our few readers who have internet access in shantytowns and under the freeway on a brief tour of Salt City Sinner headquarters.
We have a totally legitimate place of business, easily accessible by the front door.
Well, "accessible" might not be the right word. To open the front door of our fallout shelter cum information center, you have to have a key. In particular, a nine-pound iron key that fits this lock:
I admit, in terms of administrative overhead, having cast-iron nine pound keys forged is a bit of a bear, which explains the limited cast of characters you see here.
Each day on my way to my legitimate job, I have to remove my Guy Fawkes mask, comb the blood out of my mustache, and ditch my superhero costume. I've found an easy and convenient way to do this - I wrap said items in a filthy blanket and stow them in a small tree near my workplace.
I perform my ablutions in the runoff of downtown SLC's street cleaners, who reliably leave behind a large enough puddle for me to rinse the grit of blogging from myself for the most part.
We do have regional outposts established: for example, I understand that Gerald Long posts exclusively from our main compound, although towing the nine-pound iron key to Salt City Sinner HQ has cast an unfortunate penance upon his health. In fact, this is the most recent photograph we have of Gerald:
I assure you he's more lively than he looks. Some recent photographs of fellow contributors:
LawNerd:
ViewFinder:
(Although I would add the caveat that ViewFinder is raising adorable children, and thus is not completely an image capturing robot sent from the future.)
Last and least of all, you must be wondering what the Salt City Sinner looks like and where he spends his idle days. The short answer is: f#*& off. The long answer is that "I" am actually a complex series of neuroses and "Psychocosms" amalgamated specifically to sustain the order of Salt City while secretly undermining it.
Have a nice weekend!
Oh sweet mindful friend- you do thrill with this ever so kind sharing of such a private photograph- that was meant to be for my spouse's eyes only, you must have been computer stalking to have found that RARE photograph!
ReplyDeleteYours truly,
ViewFinder