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"When I was 18, I had an incredibly disastrous string of relationships..."

They say that diamonds are forever. In cyberspace, Google is forever.

Congratulations on finding my blog, and thank you for having clicked through from Shooting War. Feel free to set a spell, have a look around, and enjoy a choclate-glazed doughnut and a tall glass of tangerine-flavored Emergen-C.

Or, perhaps, you were looking for the text of Tom Weller's parody of Beowulf, from the classic CVLTVRE MADE STVPID. In which case, you've found it:

Beowulf vs. Godsylla

Meanehwæl, baccat meaddehæle,.....monstær lurccen;
Fulle few too many drincce,.....hie luccen for fyht.
Ðen Hreorfneorhtðhwr,.....son of Hrwærowþheororthwl,
Æsccen æwful jeork.....to steop outsyd.
Þhud! Bashe! Crasch! Beoom!.....Ðe bigge gye
Eallum his bon brak,.....byt his nose offe;
Wicced Godsylla.....wæld on his asse.
Monstær moppe fleor wyþ.....eallum men in hælle.
Beowulf in bacceroome.....fonecall bamaccen wæs;
Hearen sond of ruccus.....sæd, "Hwæt ðe helle?"
Graben sheold strang.....ond swich-blæd scharp
Stond feorth to fyht.....ðe grimlic foe.
"Me," Godsylla sæd,....."mac ðe minsemete."
Heoro cwyc geten heold.....wiþ fæmed half-nelson
Ond flyng him lic frisbe.....bac to fen
Beowulf belly up.....to meaddehæle bar,
Sæd, "Ne foe beaten.....mie færsom cung-fu."
Eorderen cocca-cohla......yce-coeld, ðe reol þyng.