privatevelvetanimalemptyt.v.
they'refishinginthekitchen
buttheyhaven'tcaughtuptome

King Crimson, Sex Sleep Eat Drink Dream

A hollow voice says, UGH.

I am not Ptomato The Fleep. Some people call me De Fliep. Few people call me Ptomato. Most people call me Philip. One of them is my name. The others are not. I answer to all but two (of the four, not of the three.)

I do have hobbies. They include, but are not limited to, calligraphy, fencing, coding, writing, doodling, reading fiction, reading science, reading science fiction, discussing philosophy, buying CDs, listening to music, cooking, daydreaming, upholding my ideals, playing NetHack and improvisational theater. These hobbies were listed in no particular order other than that in which I thought of them.

"You seem to be about 1 feet, 7 inches tall," droned the computer voice. "Ha, ha! Just kidding! You seem to be about..."

..__.n... .

SOMETIMES WHEN THE SUNLIGHT CREEPS PAST THE DARK VELVET CURTAIN AND ILLUMINATES EACH DANCING PARTICLE OF INCENSE I DIE OF JOY

find . -name "*.[ch]pp" | xargs sed -e's/\/\/.*//' -e'/^\/\*/d' -e'/^ *\*/d' -e'/^ *$/d' | wc -l

The P is silent. Please don't pronounce it Pee-Tomato. There is no Pee in Ptomato. Any Ptomato with Pee on it would automatically be Ptomato Sticking An Orat-On-A-Stick In Your Left Pnostril.

"Not Hercules could have knock'd out his brains, for he had none."

— Shakespeare