So for 2 months I've been working on renovating this bathroom at my mother's house, right? (I'm becoming more and more like Sheldon from Murphy Brown) And this morning I am awakened by my mother's desperate screams this morning when the drain in the new shower begins overflowing. Apparently, the house's drain to the street backed up while she was doing laundry. This caused the sewage to flow back up the pipe into the shower and out the toilet drain (which is still without a toilet). So my 2005 has ended with me standing in a puddle of raw sewage.

Here's to 2006!

I just discovered through Google that there is another online Wriphe who is over in the UK. (At least I think it's the UK. He likes cars, especially BMWs. That Wriphe even says "Cheers" at the end of his postings, so I know it's not me.) I think that's kind of cool. It's like a Mirror, Mirror thing. I hope he has a goatee.

On second thought, I suppose it could be a Fight Club thing. Or maybe a Time Cop thing. You know, it seems that most alternate future/phsycologically destructive alter-ego scenarios have only downsides. Why can't it be a Multiplicity thing? (I wonder if UK Wriphe is sleeping with Andie McDowell?)

Christmas time is stressful. Especially when you live hand-to-mouth and are trying to split your daylight hours between your mother's constantly-redesigned remodeling job-in-progress and puzzling through the legal and financial obstacles hazarding potential small business owners. What I've learned so far: 1) Allow the changes, but charge extra for the time that said changes cause. 2) There is way too much government interference in America's so-called capitalistic industries.

This holiday season, take some time to review the things that really matter. Ponder the big questions in life: If Jesus had been a postman, would he have been mailed to the cross? Do you ruin Santa's schedule if you put laxative in his milk and cookies? If I dream of a white christmas, will I be considered a racist by Morgan Freeman?

I was watching one of my favorite movies the other day, the 1979 TV pilot for Captain America. It features one of my favorite actors, Reb Brown. Reb's acting was never very good, but his great physique, good natured delivery, and unintentionally comic timing always made his onscreen performances memorable. (He had quite a bit of work for nearly 2 decades beginning in the mid-seventies, everything from Fantasy Island to Flight of the Intruder.)

To get a better sense of Reb's style, take a look at this .wma clip from the movie. (Check out Simon's double-take to Steve's (Reb) final statement.) If you've never seen the movie, there are a lot of great moments where it seems that scientist and spy Simon is talking to Steve as though Steve were a special education student. It's great. And it has a big part for Lance LeGault, a member of Elvis' Memphis Mafia and prolific actor who played, among other roles, the A-Team's Col. Decker. Don't worry, you'll recognize him as "that guy with the gravelly voice who always plays assholes."

It's a long way from "Do you think this letter on my head stands for France?" but it's a lot of clean, old-fashioned fun anyway.

I think my printer (Epson Stylus CX5400) is dead. That really annoys me. I mean, it's been a piece of crap for a long time, ever since I upgraded my Win XP to SP2, the scanner functions have failed to interface properly, but at least it did print ok (most of the time). I printed a letter on it just yesterday.

I guess I'll have to buy a new printer. It won't be an Epson, though. Screw those bastards: this thing has been nothing but trouble.

I'm posting a link to a zipped file (320KB) of my new 3rd Edition Character Sheet here so that I can find it this weekend. I never know what computer I'll be in front of, and this thing is too handy to lose. I'll give it a permanent home on my RPG pages sooner or later.

I watched the two pilots to Fantasy Island the other night. They are awful. My fantasy is that I could get that time back! You hear that, Mr. Rourke? Jerk.

Anyway, I have finally finished the update to the DnD pages to include the missing campaigns. I'm uploading now at... what? 4:33AM EDT, so there will likely be some errors I'll work out later. The important part is... Sleep. Colony and the 2 missing Kurse campaigns now live. Go. Read. Leave me alone.

Oh, yeah. If you haven't visited my brother's AWESOME website, follow this link to take a gander: Trey's AWESOME website. It's got pictures. AWESOME pictures. (I taught him everything I know. It didn't take long.)

I have to admit that I just don't understand America's fascination with midgets and monkeys.

Both are staples of comedy bits on TV from commercials to the Man Show. On the big screen Austin Power's Mini-Me became a cultural phenomenon not too far removed from Clyde in Any Which Way But Loose. (And yes, I know that Clyde, an orangutan which is a member of the ape family, is not actually a monkey. This is really a rant against dressing up primates in human clothing, so maybe I should have said "pygmies and primates" instead of "midgets and monkeys," but you get the general idea here.)

I believe that the reason that these two things are commonly considered humorous is because they are both (to different extents) miniature versions of the human form. Midgets are humans, small humans. Monkeys are hairy, small humanoids with tails. Notice that in both descriptions, the only common word is "small." That's right, to America, small equals fascinating. (Perhaps because we as a culture are now all so ridiculously large ourselves.)

Look at our obsession with iPods, Chihuahuas, cell phones, babies, and Tom Cruise. If a monkey reminds you of a small version of your office companions (which is exactly the point of a recent commercial for a internet job site), then you are likely to find the antics of the monkey funny as you project your office companions' activities and motivations onto the monkey's diminutive form. When Curious George falls into hijinks, we laugh. When Billy Bob Thornton gets into a shootout with Tony Cox in Bad Santa, we laugh. When Homer Simpson skips out on a robbery to watch the drive-in movie Hail to the Chimp, we laugh. (Though when Dunston Checks In comes on cable, we change the channel. We Americans are a fickle bunch.)

Perhaps it is because I don't much like people in the first place that I also don't much care for miniature versions of people. (Note to the Little People lobby: it's not that I'm a midget hater, I just don't find you particularly funny simply because you've got really stubby fingers.) I'm sure that I'm in the minority here, but I'm just damn tired of monkey jokes.

Oh, and happy thanksgiving. Can you guess what we talked about over our ham and potatoes this year? (That's right: a midget football league.)

We lost to Auburn. Sure, we had some bad calls go against us (such as Offensive Pass Interference 40 yards away from the play), but in the end, we gave up over 50 yards on 4th and 11 that put the game in their hands. We got what we deserved in the end. Bummer.

On the up side, the pre-game military parachutists (as pictured poorly above) landing out of the pitch-black night sky was way cool. It was like living through Red Dawn.

Alright, I've spend the entire night working on updates to the site. Those of you who have been pestering me to restore the DnD wrap-ups will be pleased to know that I finally have something online now. The original Thorgillian Wars campaign is up. To see it, find Wriphe on the home page and follow the d20 to the page.

What? You didn't expect me to make it easy for you, did you?

The single greatest panel in the history of Batman comic books appeared waaaaay back in Batman issue 1 in 1940:

It was followed shortly thereafter by the second greatest panel in the history of Batman comic books:

.

In fact, everything I know about relationships I learned from reading Batman and Robin comic books. You beat up villains (who love you for it), you play rough with the ladies (who love you for it), and you endanger the safety of little boys (who love you for it). What more do you need to know in life?

As you no doubt know by now, Georgia lost to Florida. Again. I've gotten so used to it that I'm over this year's loss in just 3 days. (Hell, I even started mourning a day early just to go ahead and get it out of the way.)

It's not bad enough that our football team is so convinced that they can't beat Florida that they are defeated before they ever enter the stadium. ("Neutral site" my ass). The Gators have now grown so cocky that they took the field in the ugliest uniforms in the history of football.

I've complained in the past about the uniforms of the Denver Broncos (those fat orange stripes are definitely not slimming), the Miami Hurricanes (lines gone wild!), the Buffalo Bills (for no apparent reason, no two sections of their uniform are the same color), the Oregon Ducks (Green! Yellow!), and the Seattle Seahawks (even kids with an 64-pack of crayons excessive better color theory), but the uniforms worn by the University of Florida were the worst that I've ever seen. It looked like the designers couldn't even make up their own mind what the uniforms should look like. A relatively normal uniform with one orange arm made them look lopsided. Were they dressing up as Frankenstein for Halloween? Does the team need color coding to figure out how to line up in the same direction at the line of scrimmage?

So, in the end, not only were we beaten, we were beaten by an inferior football team wearing uniforms that costumed super-villains would have found insulting. What a blow to our confidence. I hope we can recover before we face Auburn in their new-look tiger-stripe/eagle-feather costume.

Earlier tonight, I was flipping channels on TV as I was eating sardines and saltines. I had stopped surfing to watch two guys on the Howard Stern Show engage in a trivia contest with a porn star. (Some television is just great. Really, really fantastic.) I was playing along at home. The only question that I missed was Jimmy Carter's middle name. (I'm from Georgia, and I didn't know Jimmy Carter's middle name. I should be both tarred and feathered, I suppose.) During a commercial break, Pat Boone came on my TV and tried to sell me gold. To quote Pat from the Swiss America Trading Corporation website promoted by the tv spot:

Stocks, bonds, real estate, cash, or gold? Which do you think offers the most potential to investors in the next few years? Well, according to Swiss America, the answer is... ALL OF THE ABOVE!..IF you have a truly diversified portfolio that includes U.S. gold coins.

Re-read that to make sure that you got it. That's Pat Boone's advice: stocks, bonds, and property are worth just as much as gold, but only if you own gold. (That's not even English, Pat.) If you can figure out how to follow that golden nugget of wisdom, I'm sure that you'll be just as successful as Pat Boone.

Now, I wasn't around in the 1950's, to be sure, but I think the fact that Pat Boone is never mentioned anymore by anyone in any context should give you some kind of hint about his importance to American music and popular culture. His white bucks and dulcet tones may have managed to repackage black r&b music for white America, but I have sever doubts about his ability to pitch anyone on gold futures 20 years after he stopped being a household name. Please note that the commercial does not run during Hee Haw or some other old folk's fare where Pat's name may spark a faded memory, but in the middle of a Howard Stern episode where the younger blue-collars lurk. Strikes me that it is a TV commercial for fool's gold, and you know what they say about fools and gold.

By the way, the porn star lost the trivia contest. And Jimmy Carter's middle name is Earl.

By the skin of their canine teeth, the UGA Dawgs continued their winning streak after a 23-20 nail-biting win vs. Arkansas. I've been here for wins vs. Tennessee and Auburn, and the last 6 minutes of this game were about as desperately exciting as it gets in SEC football. The home crowd was on its feet and screaming until the last 44 seconds. Who says that homecoming games are supposed to be easy? I think the scoreboard says it all today:

Even though we may have lost Shockley just before the Cocktail Party in Jacksonville, I promise to savor the win for a whole weekend to before I start fretting about FLA.

I just posted a new Flash toy over on the media page. It's a "generic television script generator." I got the idea while channel surfing the other day when I realized that I could go through the better part of 100 channels without stopping and still have a damn good idea what was happening on most of the shows.

There is another Flash toy in the works, it just needs a little fine tuning. Really, I made it years ago but never got the polish on it to post online. I'm determined to get it up now. I don't know why I'm making them right now, I just sort of feel possessed to do it. (Probably because my mother is coming to town this weekend and Flash scripting is preferable to house cleaning.)

On a related note, I saw Desperate Housewives for the first time this past week, and I was appalled. This is what America has been going nuts over? It's just a tawdry Sex and the City clone with bad manners. Whatever happened to the good old shows? I know, I know, there were no good old shows. I mean when Ben Jones is trying to pass off the original Dukes of Hazzard as wholesome family entertainment after the phrase "Daisy Dukes" has entrenched itself in the American lexicon, it really opens your eyes to the fact that the more things change, the more they stay the same. However, there was a time when Barbara Eden couldn't show her belly button on Jeannie so they had to actually have the characters (*gasp*) do things to get an audience. Now Debra Messing's bra-less erect nipples are the punchline of half of the gags on Will & Grace (in the syndicated early-evening, after-school hours, no less). Don't get me wrong, I'm a huge fan of erect nipples, but when cheap schoolboy thrills are what pass for Emmy award winning writing, you can't expect me to cheer about it. I certainly understand why they call it the idiot box these days.

I hatched about a half dozen new ideas for the site yesterday, and I've already begun working on 3 of them. (Though that doesn't count for much, as I have about a half dozen old half-completed modifications sitting uselessly in folders on my desktop. I'm an idea man. A very lazy idea man.) The main page intro movie is still in the works, as are several interactive Flash pages. There's just not enough time for me to work on them all and still play Katamari Damacy! (If you think updates are slow now, just you wait until City of Villains is released. BWAH-HA-HA!)

Anyway, I'm also working on squeezing the old campaigns onto the new site since several of you keep bothering me about them. Keep hassling me and I'll get them added. The link to them will appear on the main page only when Wriphe is out. (I guess you might call it a hidden link, but it's not really. You'll know when it's active.)

Speaking of distractions: is there anyone else in America who is NOT watching Lost? It's like the Melrose Place phenomena of the 2000's. Take a look at this insanity. (Now you know why I live alone.) If you have to watch TV, I recommend that you stick to My Name Is Earl. It's as good as it gets: funny and poignant. by that I mean that it tugs at my heartstrings and I laugh.

Yesterday I fell off a ladder onto a chainsaw.

It'd be damn funny if that happened to someone else. Like floods and earthquakes.

I was just searching Amazon.com for the movie Side Out (with C. Thomas Howell), and my search returned a listing for crotchless panties. (God bless the internet.) Which, naturally, got me thinking about crotchless panties. What exactly is the point of these things? It has all of the bulk of underwear and none of the function. (But what a breeze!) I like easy access, but why wear panties at all if they are simply going to have a big hole in them? When my underwear develops holes, I throw it away. I've always said that I think people look more appealing with some clothing on, but this is not at all what I had in mind.

Amusingly, under "Features," Amazon lists the following for the "String of Bubbles" crotchless panty:

• Surprise someone special
• Allows you to wear jewelry in places you never though about
• It feels amazing
• Fun to wear
• Adds spice to your life

Certainly, none of these "Features" answers any of my questions. But ladies, so long as you can have an excuse to wear more jewelry ("Ooh! Shiny!"), why not crotchless panties?

Selling my old 3-3/4" G.I.Joe figures on eBay has got me thinking: What the hell was Cobra Commander doing?

The stated goals of Cobra were to destroy the American Way of Life on their way to total world domination. I'm not exactly sure how those two goals go together. To rule the world you have to overthrow Coca-Cola and Apple Pie? Rednecks and hillbillies are crucial obstacles to global monarchy? Microsoft seems to be doing fine, and Bill Gates doesn't wear a stupid blue handkerchief on his head.

On TV Cobra Commander was a coward with a speech impediment, which sort of explained why he would want to take over the world. But why did this loser have any followers? You can understand how Dr. Mindbender could combine a bunch of corpses to create a more charismatic leader. And worse yet, in the comics Cobra Commander had a son ("Billy"). Who would sleep with a freak like Cobra Commander? I'm sure Billy had some great genes; 1/2 from a sociopath megalomaniac, 1/2 from a blind, alcoholic hooker. We'll definitely be seeing Billy on Dr. Phil one of these days.

Could Cobra really have been so powerful that the entire U.S. military couldn't stop them? The solution: create a very, very small band of quasi-elite soldiers in useless specialized fields (Muskrat on Swamp Patrol?) to combat the titanic global juggernaut that was Cobra. Regular U.S. hardware and hundreds of thousands of well trained soldiers weren't good enough so the brass hired Canadians to help out in the fight. They never turned to any other country for help. (I always thought that Dial Tone looked a little French with his little mustache, but that's beside the point.) Other countries had to fend for themselves against a cohesive global menace. Russia had it's own anti-Cobra force, the October Guard, who employed even fewer members than the Joes did. Great military powers no doubt think alike. World War 3 breaks out, and the countries of the world decide that 100 soldiers with specializations in "Deceptive Warfare" and "Pirate" are going to hold the line. I feel safer already.

On a side note, the well-groomed chrome-domed Destro was supposedly a master weaponsmith and exclusive weapon supplier for Cobra. You would have thought that he could have made a laser rifle that could hit something. And yet the genius that Cobra Commander was, he kept buying from him.

I played with these toys for years and never once realized how ridiculously stupid it all was. To think that I simply accepted all of this at face value during my formative development. At least no one ever tried to pitch me on the concept of an omnipotent but impersonal universal architect when I was a child. *shudder*. Knowing is half the battle.

Yo Joe!

I've been watching a lot of Star Trek, and I've decided 2 things:

1. Leonard Nimoy is spectacular.

We all know him as Mr. Spock, a distinguished role among many on TV and movies. He is also an accomplished director of both media. Even more astonishing, he is a singer with nearly a dozen albums to his credit. ("The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins" gets all of the glory, but if you've never heard Nimoy sing "If I Had a Hammer," you haven't lived. It brings me to tears every time I hear it.) And I've just recently discovered that he is a photographer specializing in nude female photographs. Damn, Leonard, do you have to make all of the rest of us look like such spectacularly lazy bastards?

2. Captain Picard is a shitty captain.

Sure, he strikes a distinctive pose, all regal and bald, but he has no idea what his ship or his crew are ever capable of. When confronted with any new situation, he is as confused as an old man presented with a new children's cereal box. Worse still, after he acquires even a little information about his new situation, he jumps to some immediate, outlandish solution that could only possibly be correct on a syndicated science fiction television show. (Better to be lucky than good, eh, Jean-Luc?)

To disguise his foolhardy blustering, many Picard defenders point out that Picard is simply a more calm and rational man than his forebearer (the great and mighty Captain Kirk). This could hardly be further from the truth. To jump to a faulty conclusion at the drop of his last hair is neither rational nor commendable. Picard's outrageous temper tantrums, seen frequently in outbursts against his crew (especially including that impetuous young Ensign Crusher) but rarely discussed, are further evidence of his instability and inability to lead. The fact that the crew follows the old man (who leads from the rear *tsk, tsk, tsk*) demonstrates only that they are just as sick of him and desperate for escape from his tyranny as I am.

At least he's still better than Captain Janeway.

Remember the television Incredible Hulk series? I watched an episode tonight where David Banner finagled himself a job as an orderly at an insane asylum. Now, you would think that would require background checks before a drifter who mumbles his last name (which always starts with a "B," that way David, a genius with degrees in physics and medical science, won't forget what his last name is supposed to be each week while still remaining "incognito") could get a job with no references or qualifications. Maybe you can work as a mechanic, short order cook, handyman, electrician, grocer, laboratory technician, gardener for an elementary school, boxing trainer, bartender, unlicensed driver, truck loader, nanny, store clerk, sports reporter, oil rigger, janitor, or choker setter without proving your qualifications, but I think it takes a little more to work for a hospital. At least I would hope that it would.

David, David, David. *sigh*

After however many weeks it was finally pointed out to me that the bio pages STILL didn't work. (I thought they were fixed way back in August, but no, I am an idiot.) But, they're fixed now. I'm sure of it. I've shown them!

Has it really been so long since I last posted? Seems like forever. Guess I've been busy. You know it is football season.

Dawgs win again. (And I think my picture taking is getting much better.)

In the car the other day it dawned on me that "False Humility" is a redundant statement.

The Dolphins kickoff at 1:00 PM today. Maybe this season won't suck. (I won't get my hopes up.)

The nailbiting 17-15 victory over Spurrier's South Carolina yesterday was really quite an exciting game. I really enjoy being in a stadium full of fans being put through an emotional wringer.

New this season, Sanford Stadium has a whole new set of electronic boards, including the gigantic screen in the west end zone, as visible above. The screens are cool, yeah, but they are being used almost exclusively for advertising. They even took out the clock so that they could have more advertising room. (No clock in the entire stadium now. That's bullshit.) The information boards are practically useless. Only rarely do they give us stats for the game, replays, or even scores from other games. Instead, they spend all of their time giving us adverts for Coke, SunTrust, Kodak or useless prompts showing us CGI American flags to salute or telling us to "Make Some Noise." Good job, UGA; thanks for spending a fortune on signs that discourage us from looking at them. What a brain trust you have.

Labor Day. Really. I get the day off. (Chuckle.)

Go Dawgs! We crushed the reigning king of the WAC, Boise State, 48-13.

Next week we will give Redskin failure Spurrier his comeuppance! (Oh, yes, we will beat his Cocks!)

The Dawgs kick off tomorrow at 5:30 PM. (I thought that was important enough to make the blog.)

On another note: why the hell is everyone in America endorsing donating money to the Red Cross? Has everyone forgotten the lessons of 911 already? The Red Cross received millions because of that, and then they kept what they wanted and diverted a large portion of donations gifted for 911 victims and New York natives to other causes. Do you think that they money that you are giving the Red Cross to help the New Orleans natives is really ending up there?

I heard on CNN that Diddy, Nick Cage, Celene Dione, Hillary Duff and more are giving millions (that's right, millions: who says that the Gilded Age ended over a century ago?) to the Red Cross. Let those rich bastard throw their money away if they want to, they have enough, but why am I hearing about it? Did their press agents release the news so that I would be motivated to give what I could? (Social pressure from celebrities? Wow!) Or did they just want me to know what great people they were for giving so much to those who have so little?

Maybe I'm really damn cynical, but that doesn't mean that I'm wrong.

Ah ha! Site basics are complete tonight with the addition of the media/flash page. Should the page actually work as designed (I'm sure it won't, it never does), I'll finally have all the planned pages at Wriphe.com up to full speed. Now I can move on to other projects. Of course I'll keep this site updated, as at least 3 of my planned projects should have artistic merit.

Endorsement: Morrowind. Very engrossing. (I still hate Xbox. I'm playing the PC version. I know it came out forever ago, but that shouldn't stand in the way of good gaming, should it? Maybe one day I'll even play Half-Life.)

I have to leave town for the weekend to take care of the best poodle in history, but before I go, I've stopped to complete the contact page. Now that's dedication! That leaves only the "media/flash" page in need of heavy work. Hopefully I'll get to it next week.

On another note, a friend called this morning to complain that I water down my typically salty language too much on this blog in an attempt to "prevent offending anyone." Gosh darn it, that's just not the frickin' case.

He also thought I should include a disclaimer about the costume pic I included back on the 15th. I think that everyone who knows me knows that isn't my body, but I don't see why I should include a disclaimer when perhaps I can convince others. Everyone has to have an avatar for their porn site BBS postings, right?

Finally, I put content on the Bio pages. It took 3 versions of this site, but now my adoring public will have some scant knowledge about the evil genius behind this site. Not that they really care. (Rule #1: no one cares about your site.)

On a much more interesting note, I just sold a set of Crossbows and Catapults on eBay for $100.00. As much as I'm going to miss those l'il plastic vikings, the cash sure helps to cushion the blow. A lot.

I've discovered that the trick about quitting your job so that you'll have more time to work on your own projects (the "great American novel," a new boat, or -- as in my case -- a comic book) is that everyone that you know says, "hey, you don't have a job, why don't you come give me a hand doing >insert diversion task here< for little or no money. In my case, the activity of my social life is inversely proportional to my economic income.

On a very related note, I took to watching T.J. Hooker seasons 1 & 2 on DVD this week. Hooker represents the golden years (cue tv host Tom Massie: "GoooOOOOOoooold!") of Shatner television. The character of Hooker is somewhere between Dirty Harry and Joe Friday; a television recycling of the high-water points of previous TV cops into a confusing mess of ideology and practice. Hooker is a walking cliche: a "tough-as-nails" ex-soldier turned cop who left his cushy detective desk job to return to the mean streets of the unnamed "L.C." city as a beat cop with a rogue streak and a rookie partner. Confusingly, these beat cops spend more time solving major crimes (snipers, stalkers, gun runners, and other common television crime cases) than the plain-clothes detectives of the uncommonly mundane named "Academy Precinct." Shatner pulls it off with aplomb. If you've not seen it yet, get to it, cadet!

I have spent the last 8 hours working on listing things on ebay. Now, if I was to make $10 per hour, then that's $80 I'd need from the sales in order to justify the time spent. WIll I make good? Only time will tell.

A friend emailed me a link to spandexman.com, and I couldn't help playing with some of the pictures there. He's got unitards of all sorts, including Spider-Man and Superman costumes. I wish I could make things like that. All I can do is create digital pictures of things that don't exist. That doesn't exactly feed you in the woods, know what I'm saying?

Damn, I wish I looked that good in a unitard. Spandex Man gets 2 thumbs up.

More site updates. The art pages should be linking now, and I've updated the blog pages to include text from the previous 2 years of Wriphe.com. (Just in case anyone wanted to read my old wisdom; remember: wisdom doesn't get old, just the people who have it do.)

I just returned home from my trip to Canton, Ohio, where Dan "The Greatest Quarterback of All Time" Marino was inducted into the NFL Hall of Fame. We were surrounded by thousands of Dolphins fans wearing Marino jerseys. The level of fanaticism was almost creepy.

We drove through Amish country to get there. I was really quite surprised to see that there is still such a high demand for carriage & buggy shops. When you think about it, they are already compliant with President Bush's new energy plan, so maybe they are ahead of the game, not a more than a century behind it. (Vote Amish in 2008! They are no strangers to federal government; look at C. Everrett Koop.)

In fact, the Amish may be one of the last reamining groups that someone can carelessly insult on the internet. They certainly aren't going to find out what you flamed them about.

At long last, the new Wriphe.com is finally off the ground. I said back in October of last year that it was coming. That must mean that I have "foresight."

Updates are pending, but between rushing around the country and looking for gainful employment, I'm not sure how fast they're coming. I'd say that I'm updating faster than I updated the last version of the site, but I don't want to make promises that I can't keep. At least every page on this site functions as it ought to, which is a huge improvement already.

More to come.