Mungolian Jetset



Dear Great Britain

Dear Great Britain,

Today you cast votes to decide something. What, exactly?

The Dhaqwaan of Po-Lonte once said:

"Democracy's been dead a long time ... voting is just a ritual to remind us of what it was like when it was alive"

Perhaps this is true ...

Just remember that the majority of these people will - no matter what the outcome - continue to reap financial rewards for doing next to nothing for you. Whether in power or in opposition, they will be smiling. And you will still be expected to bend over and take the full length and girth of the winning side's offerings.

May your gods have mercy on your souls.

Of course, the quality of your masturbatory practices should remain unaffected by the whole thing. You see: Every cloud has a silver lining.

Best regards, (Great) Britain

The Homunculus of Mung

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Just before everyone pisses off on their lascivious way for Easter shennanigans, I would like to ask you: what is dancing?

Having been observing in clubs over the past while, I have no doubt that the majority of you have two left feet.

This "dancing" you do is pathetic, and often consists of little more than jumping up and down, sometimes bedaubed with glo-paint and waving glo-sticks in the ultraviolet light of a seedy little sweatbox.

There is a lot to be said for real dancing - you know the kind: where you had to learn the steps. Yeah - steps. Proper, co-ordinated, choreographed movements laid down by someone with some imagination.

I humbly suggest that someone out there makes an effort, and begins a campaign to bring back real dancing. Or at the very least, a set of acceptable moves that can be strung together in a manner that suggests sentient thought on ...

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Supplement to Cyborg Women Fetish

Uh huh ... told ya ...Without much surprise, a Japanese friend (wishing to remain anonymous) has sent me this link:

... from which I have taken the picture ... Oh yes ... it has long since begun ... These things can be customized as well, with hair choices, breast size choices, and all manner of oddities.

Saying that, I may get myself one ... it would be great for tormenting the Dhaqwaan and his aescetic poetical stance.

I also have heard there is an even more realistic one with a heartbeat and pulse, warm skin and the ability to adminster a great Mung Job. And I think it's Austrian or German ... I'm sure someone out there will know ...

Strange people ...

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Cyborg Women Fetish

gagaFidel, former lifelong friend of the Late Pierre called around last night. First time I've seen him since my cat regrew its fur (furry or shaven pussy? ... I flip-flop between the two according to the most esoteric of atmospheric elements ... even the weather ... actually, especially the weather ... oh! Such arbitrary vacillations!)

Fidel has fallen in love (again). Not with me, I hasten to add. Nor with my cat (denuded or otherwise). Poor Fidel. He's fallen in love with Lady Gaga ... and not Lady Gaga in general, no. He's fallen in love with Lady Gaga on crutches in her video to Paparazzi ...

He even found himself with an indiscriminate boner at the sight of Beyonce Knowles in her Gold armour in the "Sweet Dream" video ...

Yes, Fidel is one of the latest casualties of the cyborg women fetish.

Even Barbarella gets him floating on a cushion of make-believe ...

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Twitter and Facebook: Sir Dhahii better watch his back.

What the hell is going on?

I sit here, writing these little prose-based thinklings for my readership of 3 people (myself included), and Sir Dhahii goes on Facebook and Twitter and writes this kind of thing:

Homunculus seems to be truly back in action. And almost is positive about something: Charlie Brooker. What next? Backrubs for Chris Morris?

Or ...

Yeah. The Homunculus is back. We're still not sure that's a good thing ...

Or ...

Gurgles from the Pool of Embellished Cyber-nuns suggest that the Homunculus may be back from his travels.


Just because he's the webmaster here and occasional "backing lyricist" for Mungolian Jet Set, he thinks he can write this piffle.

And my activities in the Pool of Embellished Cyber-nuns are none of anybody's business.

So, Sir Dhahii, here it is:

You can take your remarks, your RAWK inclinations and you proto-gothoid Hammer Horror fanship and safely lodge it in the depths of a ...

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I don't like you ... get over it.


Today is: (just in case you're a moron, or recently thawed out after a cryosleep)