Hey, Malcolm here. I’m really sorry about the recent lapse in updates. As you can see, the site has a new look to it, and also a few different things. For one, there is a forum now, where you can all go and yammer to your heart’s content. And eventually there will be a proper Archive, once I finish making the thumbnails. And, most exciting, by this time tomorrow we ought to have a proper site logo, with an easily merchanisable mascot animal and everything!

Anyhow, this is all a very roundabout method of telling you lovely people that update droughts like this are not something we here at TLG plan on making a habit of, and in that spirit, here’s a little poem Jay whipped up in honor of Memorial Day.*

FUCK YOU, THIS IS A MEMORIAL DAY POEM

By Jay Thomas

Twas the day of Memorial, as I sat in my room
Watching t.v., and tripping on shrooms.
While a dragon and elf made love in my bed.
I sincerely hoped they were just in my head.

The summer was sweltering, humid and hot.
“Shit! I need fireworks.” I said as I thought.
Excited and smiling, I rose to my feet.
Then the elf winked at me and said, “take a seat.”

I ignored the elf and his lover the dragon.
And got in my car, a Ford Taurus Wagon.
With a wizard beside me, I rode into town.
And searched for fireworks while I came down.

I stopped at a station and pumped some gas.
Saw an old shopkeep and thought I would ask.
“Sir, I need fireworks. Where might they be?”
“Not here.” He said. “Them’s illegal in Tennessee.”

To Alabama I went, despite my head being clearer
When I noticed the gas pump, in my side view mirror.
I stopped and trashed the hose, right next to a sign.
“Welcome to Alabama – where we don’t like mine… orities”

When what to my wandering eyes should appear
But a specialty store, selling fireworks and beer.
I walked in and demanded I be sold some wares.
And walked out with Chinese explosives bundled with care.

I started driving back home, feeling just super
And saw the blue lights of TN state trooper.
He tapped on my window, but I stepped on the gas.
“Eat my dust, you hole of an ass!”

I floored it back home, not feeling dumb
Lit up a rocket and blew off my thumb.
“Holy shit! Holy shit!” I said with a shout
as ounces of blood. Wait. No. Pints poured out.

My douchebag neighbor, Ted called 911.
And the paramedics arrived, stopping my fun.
The police came with them, arrest warrant in tow.
“Fuck you, Ted! I blame you, you homo!”

I was put in a squad car, still minus a thumb.
And seated beside an old smelly bum.
The hobo turned to me, coke dust on his nose
“Who are you? And where are your clothes?”

“Quiet down back there.” Said the cop in the front.
I hated that guy. He was such a huge cunt.
It’s Memorial Day, so go have a blast.
As I await trial and cover up my ass.

*Of course, being Canadian I don’t celebrate Memorial Day. Unlike citizens of some nations, I had to work today. I mowed sixteen goddamn lawns while you yanks were shoving firecrackers up your nostrils or whatever it is you do on you queer-ass holiday.