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So I know we haven,t written a new article in eight weeks or whatever but we have good reason. It may come as a shock to some of you Beasts of Burden, but one of our dear authors has recently passed away. You may remember the compelling article written by one Mother Potato. It was an award winning piece discussing and questioning the values of the human endeavour, the meaning found in personal relationships, and the difference between faith and belief. I don,t think I need to tell you that it was extrememly well written and awe inspiring. You can read it here.

Sweet Mother Potato will be missed by all of us here at Bline Zogazine. She was an outstanding woman - full of purity, kindness, benevolence, gummy bears, intelligence, huge boogs, hospitality, and a smile so warm you could roast a marshmellow on her lips.

The Fall of Troy - Phantom On The Horizon

The details of her death are somewhat ambiguous but what we could find out was that she did in fact end her own life. Apparently she has had a pretty severe drinking problem for about the last eight months, ever since her old drug dealer got her pregnant and forced her to have and in house abortion. You know, the kind where you go to whatever cheap dollar store and get that plastic shovel and pale that kids play with at the beach and just scoop the sin out of her guts. It really effected her, emotionally I mean. She was not quite the same after Starflake (her old drug dealer) excavated that semi-formed body out from between her rich, creamy thighs. So she hit the bottle and she hit it hard.

Rumor has it that she got into weird beastiality videos to help pay for the sauce. But it didn,t stop there. She moved from booze to the real stuff. She starting going to Home Depot and stealing fluorescent lamps, smashing them open and inhailing the sweet, stimulating mercury vapor hidden beneath the glass. Her addiction took over her life. She would show up to work with bleeding gashes around her nose and lips from jamming those broken bulbs in her face to get a quick high. She was getting deeper and deeper into the flame game and before she knew it our dear Mother Potato had gone off the deep end. All I know is that she was found with a couple of broken fluorescents in her pooper, a half pint of Uncle Tiggly Wiggly,s Old Timey Stink Whiskey hanging from between her clam strips, a map of Jerusalem in one hand and an empty revolver in the other. She had shot her self in the nose trying to sniff the burnt gun powder out of the barrel. She mentioned in passing once that her Chinese friend told her that if you get a good hit of hot, burnt gunpowder it,s a high unlike any other.

I spent some time researching the perils of fluorescent guffing (that,s the term they use). This will give you an idea of what,s happening. If you want the whole truth though, here is a link to David Groot,s shockumentary on the subject. He,s been involved with the bulb guffing struggle for years and knows exactly what,s going on. Read it. Get involved! All the resources are there!

So that is how it happened.

We held her funeral service on November 19th and thought it would be a good idea if we all sort of took a break for a while from the whole writing thing to pay our respects to one of the finest women ever born. So that is why this month has been a little lacking in articles. But now that that stupid bitch is in the ground we can get back to our meaningful work.

Mournfully Yours,

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