Hey JLP gang, let’s welcome in our old friend Francisco Pizarro!
I assume he has come to bring toys and Spanish happiness to us all! What a glorious day this is!
What’s that, Francisco Pizarro? When you say, “the time of the JLP is over,” what do you mean? Do you mean that you have brought us all fake mustaches so we can prance about in a spirit of frivolity?
Why are you holding aloft a Bible, Francisco Pizarro? What do you mean by this? Are you requesting a brief moment of silent prayer before we hold hands around the mirthberry bush and sing songs of friendship and innocence?
Look, JLP friends, Mr. Francisco’s friends with the silver hats are gathering together in a line facing us! They want to play red rover!
Let’s send little Billy O’Houlihan on over!
NO! The Spanish men with beards cut little Billy O’Houlihan open with their steel blades and have thrown his severed, red-haired head back to us!
This is not fun at all! Why would the gods turn against the JLP like this? Our blogprophets who foretold apocalypse were right! I should have heeded their word instead of spitting half-chewed Cap’n Crunch in their faces!
My precious JLP friends are now scrambling for their lives from Pizarro and his men mounted atop their terrifying demon-steeds! The JLP’s hubris is collapsing down upon us all like a stone pyramid of whimsy!
I suddenly feel cold and feverish. My skin has grown sallow and is newly blemished with pustulous sores. I am about to die a pitiful death at the hands of Francisco Pizarro!
I will throw myself into the ravine instead!
Franciscooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!
Omigosh, I haven’t had Cap’n Crunch in like, forEVER!
Dear Peter,
You haven’t blogged about your son for a while. Naturally, I’m going to assume that you’ve stopped loving him. Please advise.