hot moist morford
I couldn't even get through most of Morford's rant about the Bush action figure without having to consult Babelfish, but then I remembered that Babelfish doesn't translate gibberish or magnetic poetry paragraphs so I just shrugged it off and plowed on, hoping to find some clue that there is indeed lifeform within Morford's brain and he is not really a LeftyBot as some people have suggested.
Down towards the bottom of Morford's nonsensical ode to glass dildos (I think that's what it was about, anyhow), comes his definition of a hero:
Maybe we've forgotten that a hero is, of course, someone who goes deep into the underworld and has terrifically spiritual and self-revealing adventures full of danger and mystery and hot moist goddesses who offer him magic and mysteriously juicy fruit.
All coupled with the ever-present threat of death and/or immortality, endless failures and setbacks and strange gifts, and yet he re-emerges above ground stronger, more aware, attuned, enlightened and potent.
I took an Excedrin Migraine, which I always keep handy when reading Morford, and read through the definition again and then last sentence of his screed:
Because the hero you most need? It's you. Simple, really.
Well yea, if you're playing Zork or Zelda.
Which leads me to believe that Morford is, indeed, nothing more than a computer program designed to spit out the most inane drivel ever (as its fed a litany of keywords including BushCo, dildos, asexual, daddy and stolen), and some strain of a nasty virus infected the inner workings of its code so it got mixed up with the ROMs for adventure games and this is what we get.
We've all been had. The virus IS Morford and he's infecting your computer right this minute, downloading naked pictures of Arianna Huffington and sending emails to A.N.S.W.E.R.