Because that is where the Good Stuff on the internet is.

"... haunting... audacious... ingenious... brilliant... intricate... masterly... restless... fascinating new... magnificently funny, sucker-punch-tragic... assured... sinister and charming... stunning... fierce and unsettling... powerful..."

That is a post currently on Althouse. Unfortunately it is not about my comments.

Seriously: I think I have gotten too wrapped up on getting responses for my pieces -- it started becoming a validation, and when a dry spell hit -- well, from David Foster Wallace:

"Because see, by this time, my ego’s all invested in the writing. It’s the only thing I’ve gotten food pellets from the universe for. So I feel trapped: ‘Uh-oh, my five years is up, I’ve gotta move on.’"

I'm going to take a Laslo break for awhile. Maybe a few days, maybe a month, maybe much longer -- I don't know: my increasingly poorer health over this last year has been making me irritable. Hoping that changes soon. Otherwise I'll turn into the character "The Asshole Commenter Who Is Just An Asshole."

Meanwhile, a guy I know here in Seattle -- we've had beers over the years -- well: he used to comment back in the day, and he has returned under a new name. I'm looking forward to what he might do.

Anyway -- I'll still be reading Althouse, and the commenters there. Because that is where the Good Stuff on the internet is.

'I am Laslo' blog, as of this pause:

Just shy of 90,000 pageviews.

Posts: 1406, counting this one.

122 comments.

Yeah. it took me 1406 posts to get the amount of comments that Althouse gets in one day. In one post. She IS The Master.

I am Laslo.

https://althouse.blogspot.com/2017/11/haunting-audacious-ingenious-brilliant.html

There is a girl in one of the pee videos who has blue hair, so of course she reminds me of the Girl with the Blue Hair who works at McDonalds.

Socially Awkward Guy Who Makes No Eye Contact says:

It's Thanksgiving, which means the Girl with the Blue Hair won't be working at McDonalds today, which sucks. My mom is going over to her boyfriend's place later to cook him turkey; she invited me to come along, but I think I'd rather be awkward alone than awkward at my mom's boyfriend's place: the guy is a creep. And he always asks me if I finally got a girlfriend: sure, yeah, that's why I washed my hair last week...

So I'm just going to stay home and watch guys pee on girls on the internet. At one of the sites they have viewers rate the videos, and I find it sad: they always give the highest ratings to the ones where the girls look like they don't want to be peed on...

I would hate to pee on a girl who didn't want to be peed on. I like the videos where she is smiling, and her eyes are closed so she doesn't get pee in them: they shouldn't have to get conjunctivitis, that isn't fun...

I had pinkeye when I was younger. The doctor said I needed to start washing my hands after using the bathroom. I didn't know you were supposed to wash your hands, no one told me that. So now I wash my hands...

There is a girl in one of the pee videos who has blue hair, so of course she reminds me of the Girl with the Blue Hair who works at McDonalds. She doesn't have a name listed, so I couldn't look her up to find other videos of her getting peed on. Then it dawned on me: I Googled 'blue hair girl piss videos' and I found several of them. Duh...

I wonder if the girls who get peed on in the videos are home with their familes for Thanksgiving. It would be cool to be one of them's boyfriends, and be sitting next to her, eating turkey and nodding while everyone else talked...

Like no one else thinks these things.

https://althouse.blogspot.com/2017/11/isnt-thanksgiving-more-deserving-of.html

When I was fifteen he was drunk and 'accidentally' touched my breasts.

The Girl at Starbucks That Hates You:

It's Thanksgiving, so of course I am working today. It isn't that big a deal, really: they are closing the store at 5:00pm so that the employees can be home for Thanksgiving evening. A lot of people are complaining, saying they should've just given us the whole day off, but -- come on -- it's still nice, and it could be worse, like working at Jack In The Box selling burgers at night to those people who have nothing else to do on Thanksgiving than to go through the Jack In The Box drive-thru for a burger and large-size fries...

I told my mother to not hold dinner for me: I'd hate it if everyone had to wait until I got there. I'm fine getting a plate when I get there, okay? Besides, if they waited they would just drink more before I got there, and sometimes that gets embarrassing. My Uncle Frank, he has a problem with the drinking. When I was fifteen he was drunk and 'accidentally' touched my breasts. I've forgiven him, but he still really never makes eye contact with me...

Anyway, I don't really want to sit at the table and hear my sister in her new expensive clothes go on about being thankful for her amazing job and her new fancy car. Because then she'll ask me why I'm still working at Starbucks. And the reason I'm working at Starbucks is because, after all my resumes went out, they were the only ones to hire me...

I'm already paying an enormous debt for the two years of college that I DID go to; she -- of course -- got a scholarship, so she didn't have to worry about such things. She IS scary smart -- sometimes she just doesn't know that most people aren't as smart as her, and it might come harder to them. And sometimes she just doesn't know that she's being an asshole...

My Dad has tried to help me with college, but he's been tight on money ever since he and Mom divorced. I miss the Thanksgivings when we were all together: I have some great memories of those. Dad would make things out of the mashed potatoes at the table. I think that is from some old movie, but I've never seen it...

I asked my Dad if he wanted me to come to his place for Thanksgiving: it'd be nice, having a quiet evening, but he says that would really disappoint my mother, so we'll just get together a little later. Which probably might not happen, because he works night shifts and I work weekends...

So, for Thanksgiving, I am thankful for the little things. Of course, I don't really have any 'big things', but I DO have a lot of little things. And work'll be fine: everybody will probably be in a happy mood. Although, people: do you buy the Pumpkin Spice shit because you like it, or just because it makes you think of Christmas...?

I am Laslo.

Unfortunately, many of my thoughts about making this happen kinda sound like kidnapping.

The Guy Who Searches the Internet for Nude Pictures of an Old Girlfriend...

So I went to my ex-girlfriend's apartment to see if her nude photos were on her computer, and she had changed her password. And I stole a pair of her panties. When she was mine she was fat and her panties were big and boring. Now she is fit and her panties are sleek and exciting...

I have resumed scouring the internet to find the photos, but I am beginning to believe that I might never find them: there are just too many naked girls on the internet...

I parked out by her gym again. She was wearing her black stretch pants and a yellow sports bra. I am starting to have a reoccurring fantasy. If I could just somehow get her to my place and keep her there for a week maybe she would remember how good we fit together, and she would realize why we should be back together now...

Unfortunately, many of my thoughts about making this happen kinda sound like kidnapping. I mean, it wouldn't really be kidnapping: I would just be putting her in an environment that would help her think more clearly. But it still kinda sounds like kidnapping...

I picture us at my place, and my having sex with her and her new taut body. I hope I wouldn't have to tie her to the bed: I don't know, sometimes that happens in the fantasy, sometimes it doesn't...

I know these thoughts are not good for me. Even if you do this kind of thing for the right reason they will still probably throw you in prison. As I said, I have resumed scouring the internet to find the photos, but I can feel my heart isn't really into it. I realize I need to do more. I cannot be so passive. Maybe being passive is why she left me in the first place. Maybe she would be excited about me taking action: that might be what she wanted all along...

I am Laslo.

https://althouse.blogspot.com/2017/11/at-fair-trade-cafe.html

Sometimes you touch a woman's ass and it disappoints you. This ass was not disappointing, not disappointing at all.

The Guy Who Touches Women's Asses...

As I said previously: I touch women's asses in public. Women that I don't know. Women with nice asses: I touch them. And I blame women for this: women are to blame. The clothes they wear: what lawyers call "Attractive Nuisance", I believe.

There was a woman at the grocery store today, wearing black leggings. She had a nice ass, so I touched it. Firm. Very much a nice ass. Sometimes you touch a woman's ass and it disappoints you. This ass was not disappointing, not disappointing at all.

Then she turned to face me, saying "Hey!" So I grunted something that vaguely sounded like "Sorry" and I handed her the card that says "I have Autism. And I'm partially deaf."

She fixed me with a suspicious look, but then turned away, pushing her cart down the aisle. As she pushed her cart down the aisle I looked at their ass: I touched that ass.

I am Laslo.

Somehow they didn't think this would happen when they got dressed in the morning in leggings that clearly show their buttocks.

The Guy Who Touches Women's Asses...

I admit it: I touch women's asses in public. Women that I don't know. Women with nice asses: I touch them. I touch them intentionally. I mean, maybe I sometimes brush a woman's ass by accident, but mostly I touch them on purpose...

Furthermore, I blame women for this: yes I do. Tight pants, tight leggings, tight skirts, yoga pants: women are putting their asses out into the public sphere. I am in the public sphere, and I touch those asses...

Now, I don't grope or pinch or hook: I keep an open palm -- I cup. Obviously, some women get upset that I do this. Somehow they didn't think this would happen when they got dressed in the morning in leggings that clearly show their buttocks. Again: I blame the women for this...

They have made their identity about their ass, then feign surprise when I view them as a vehicle for their ass. When they get really upset I hand them a card I've had printed: "I have Autism. And I'm partially deaf." Then I make grunting noises that sound like I'm trying to say words, but I can't actually say the words. Because I'm partially deaf. And have autism. This usually causes the woman to walk away. When they walk away I look at their ass: I touched that ass.

I am Laslo.

https://althouse.blogspot.com/2017/11/i-was-wrong-althouse-obviously-had-her.html

Bill Clinton, the Stand-Up Comedian...

Bill Clinton, the Stand-Up Comedian...

Great night, people, great night, thank you for coming! A lot of news about me in the papers lately. See, right there: I'm from a different era, right? I remember when you read the news in papers, not on your phone. The world has changed from my day, I sure see it...

You know, I'm getting a rep as a kinda bad boy lately, am I right? Bad boy, bad boy. I can't help it, I'm from an earlier time, things were different between men and women...

Back then, when women said 'No', we actually thought they still kinda might mean 'yes', okay? I know, I know: times have changed. But in my defense, it WAS Arkansas, you know what I mean...?

I know better now, I know better. I'll tell you a little something. When I was young I idolized John Kennedy, idolized him, right? And JFK, he liked the ladies. And he liked cigars. So I liked the ladies and cigars, right? Except I kinda screwed that one up, didn't I? You keep the ladies and the cigars separate, I know that now. Again: I was from Arkansas -- sophistication there meant putting premium gas in your truck, okay..?

Now, of course, I've realized I caused a lot of pain, I feel it. I'm really sorry for what I've done. And I'm sorry for what I've done that hasn't come out yet, okay? Real sorry. From my heart. Growing up in Arkansas without a father figure, I didn't know the proper way to be with women. And I made mistakes: I know that. I understand now that we all can't live our lives like we're Teddy Kennedy, you know what I mean...?

And it might sound like I'm making fun of Arkansas tonight, but the truth is I love Arkansas. Deep down, I'm an Arkansas boy. Still am, still am. Back home, they say you can take the boy out of Arkansas, but you can't take Arkansas out of the boy. But it turns out you kinda can: it's called DNA testing...

You've been great, thank you, thank you from my heart...

I am Laslo.

https://althouse.blogspot.com/2017/11/as-soon-as-broaddricks-story-starts-to.html