7:45 P.M. Mellow greetings, citizens.
Y'see, I was told this odd thing, in university, about being a writer. To be a writer, you actually have to write. Surprising, isn't it? So here is my periodic exercise in rambling prose, adding yet more high weirdness to the Net, leading to the strangeness supernova that might spawn a idea beast somewhere being the Creature of the Id from Forbidden Planet, and Shemp Howard. J.R. "Bob" Dobbs only knows where this journal may lead, considering the ADHD-addled imagination of the author. Okay, well, we know we can expect much neurotic angst, but I swear, it will be very funny neurotic angst.

If you wonder where the blog's title comes from.. Although I have never found the article again, I read somewhere once that these Israeli scientists were trying to raise pigs that met the kosher standards. They were going to make them chew cud, have cloven hooves, and keep them on raised platforms off the ground. Now, in my third decade, I doubt the veracity of this memory, but then when did truth ever stop a good idea? Or a bad one, for that matter. But I've always identified with these porcine compatriots, these pork paradoxes. Keep it in mind when you read.