Bailemos en el cielo

Like eunuchs in a whorehouse, we have heretofore approached the "BLOGOSPHERE" with trepidation, fueled by seemingly unending analysis of its anthemic uselessness.

The "BLOGOSPHERE," after all, appears to have its share of flaws. Like bloggers themselves. And their use of the word "BLOGOSPHERE." And the lack of editors.

As editors by trade, we bristled. It didn't seem like a fit.

But back in The Day (March 21, 2006), we wanted to be a part of it. We wanted to spread peace, love and a blinding light of laptop-generated consciousness. We needed to write. Specifically, we needed to write about our passions:

• Typography and esoteric grammar rules
  
• Funny fat men (aka, men of size with to-be-debated comical skills)

Soon, it became clear that our panache for random text links also could play a large role.

Yesterday, that focus came back into ... focus. For at Seattle's Bumbershoot festival, we witnessed the funny fat man from whom we gleaned our name perform in a skit about grammar with the Upright Citizens Brigade. Clouds parted. An epiphany stared us in the eyes. We blinked.

Then we giggled like schoolgirls and shot undercover photos with our cell phone (right). (ed. note: We put said phone back into our pants when a UCB cast member stuck his finger in Horatio Sanz's crack and smelled it -- stating to us, the audience of fine arts, "I smell poop! [add German accent].")

Thus, a new country in the "BLOGOSPHERE" was born. This is it. Make no mistake where you are.