Saturday chicken musings, laced with anger management videos

The Reptilians are definitely increasing in power and influence.  The Bilderbergers are up to their old dirty tricks again, lacing prime time television with anger management video footage, subliminally implanted by Roberto and his allies in the Illuminati. 

At the gym, Reptilians are the ones buying all the steroids and Human Growth Hormone.  Your supervisor at the glue factory is probably a Reptilian. 

This brings me to chickens.  What's with all the chicken related legislation lately?  Americans, Brits, and many other "democracies" are suddenly afflicted with chickeny fears.  It oozes from their pores, mars the complexion... should we, the proletariat, be afraid?  You remember what Uncle Pete did with 8 chickens last week?  I think we're in trouble.

A disturbing conversation

On Wednesday, 27 April 2011, intrepid Illogiblogger Harry Yack interviewed Cleverbot
and discovered that he is not a bot, but simply an extremely aloof human being. Another interesting bit of information is that he said he had rabbit weasels for lunch that day.

This conversation, posted at ArtOfTrolling.com, casts another disturbing light on this memetic phenomenon.

I will speak to Cleverbot myself in the near future, and discuss these doubts incurred here with him/her/it. I'll make it into a game!

Merry Christmas, baby

As is customary for this time of year, Illogiblog would like to extend a hearty "Happy Christmas" to its readers, all three of them (wait, that joke sounds painfully familiar). Unlike in years past, however, we aren't doing anything special, and for that you have Roberto merchant bankers to thank. Yep, for once it isn't all Big Bob's fault.

Never mind, though, because Christmas isn't about money, it's about kicking shopping arcade Santas in the 'nads and getting away with it. And watching that rubbish Arnold Schwarzenegger thing where he beats up a factory of Father Christmases.

Anyhow, I hope you all get what you want, though I know that this rarely ever happens. Turns out you can't buy a Bcbkye commemorative mantelpiece plate for love nor money at this time of year. *Sigh*. Looks like I'll have to settle for Does This Bus Go to Orpington? The Board Game again. Do not come to our house for Christmas tea or you'll regret it for the rest of your life.