I think I've been spammed

Last week I posted this quote from Margaret Cho about George Bush :

I just think he's just fucked. He's so fucked. I want to send him some poppers and Crisco.

Much to my surprise, I got the following comment:

Cool blog! I was just reading about your mention of poppers. I'm a huge poppers fan!

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Hope all this is helpful and of interest.

Keep up the good work!
Stephen Caliph

I was a little taken aback and so I visited Stephen's "website." For one minute, just one split second, I thought it was real and some guy had devoted a whole blog to poppers and their history!! It was hilarious. In fact it's still worth checking out just for a laugh. Just go to http://stone2005 dot typepad dot com. It's a must read with lines like:

"Have you ever wondered where the good old poppers from the ‘70s went? The ones that never gave you a headache, stayed fresher longer, and packed far more punch?"

Why in fact I was just asking myself that the other day.

You can read the original comment with all the links here. It's so outrageous that I just can't bring myself to delete it. Of course now I will probably get deluged with spam for poppers.

While I'm on the subject, I remember the time Psycho and I were at my parent's and my mother was making some appetizers before dinner. She goes downstairs to get something out of the freezer and returns with a box with the word "Poppers" written across in big red letters. We almost fell over in laughter. Of course they were jalepeno poppers, but just the sheer obliviousness as to what she was holding was too much.

Now I understand that poppers have their place in the world. I mean, how else are you going to shove that pylon up your ass? I've tried it a few times, but the residual headache isn't worth the 30 second high acheived. I don't understand why they are so much fun on the dance floor either. There's nothing worse than trying to enjoy yourself while this cloud hangs above the crowd from the idiot passing a rag around to his friends. It might as well be glue.

However, the one thing that I will untimately never understand happened to me a few years ago. I was at the first Folsom Fair North party in Toronto. It was held in a parking lot and had a few booths, food, beer garden, dance area, and of course porta-potties. I was waiting in line for one of said potties, when I see the guy ahead of me take a huge huff from a small bottle. Then he turns to me and says "Want some poppers?" I politely declined. Seriously, how can sniffing amyl nitrates while waiting in line for the bathroom be fun? How is that even remotely enjoyable?? Maybe it's to cut back on the smell, or maybe he had a dirty public toilet fetish. I don't know. All I know is that he went in by himself and came out by himself so he was left to his own devices the entire time. For all I know he was unbelievably constipated and had to loosen his ass so he could reach in and scoop out his shit by hand. It only makes sense.