Also missing, evidently, is journalfen. Not being able to read the wank communities is probably like not having bags of chocolate chip cookies in the house: virtuous but dull.
I use my pissy red dragon icon the way the Lady of the Camellias used her red camellias, as warning to the world that les Anglais se sont debarqués and I am in, well, a pissy red mood. Sorry, tammylee.
More happily, I was listening to Phil Collins the other day and came across It's Not Too Late. Having totally mondegreened the first line into 'Jelly rolling for the time' I had no idea who the he in question (one of the he's) was and got an image of some Akama kind of youkai murmuring outside people's doors or whispering smiling poison into newborn's ears, encouraging them to despair and die because well, hell, the human condition is nothing but despair and death anyway, right?
Which is nice, and might even turn into a story, and rather reminds me of Mischief in Skelton's Magnifycence, urging the young prince to suicide. (Magnificence is a neat play to see acted and if you're into words, back in the days before words got settled and middle-class, it's also a fun read.)
MISCHIEF. And I, Mischief, am comen at need,
Out of thy life thee for to lead.
And look that it be not long
Ere that thyself thou go hong
With this halter good and strong;
Or else with this knife, cut out a tongue
Of thy throat-bowl, and rid thee out of pain.
Thou art not the first himself hath slain.
Lo, here is thy knife and a halter! and, ere we go further,
Spare not thyself, but boldly thee murther.