I was recently in Iceland and found myself looking at some amazing things in such a small portion of a rather small country. One of these things was the waterfall Gullfoss, or Golden Falls. The scenery of Iceland is unbelievable, and I have plenty of other photos to prove it.
I hereby formally express my opinion on Weaver: he is the highest degree of bastard for making it to Iceland before me.
Gullfoss looks incredible. It would have been a whole lot cooler if that guy from the movie Slacker would've tossed his typewriter into Gullfoss.
I have long wanted to go to the iced-land too. Now that I know at least one other person has been there already, I will have to rethink the whole damn thing.
Life was so much easier for adventuring purposes back when an explorer, his dusky-hued servants, and a treasure chest full of salted meats could be reasonably sure of being the first folks to visit most places.
Despite my scientifically defensible envy, I salute you for boldly stepping forth and planting the fearsome yet cheeky "Unloosen" banner atop whatever mountain or hillock you surely planted it upon while in that savage land of fire, ice, and a level of social cohesion that the CIA describes as "first-rate."
Quite a surprise that by going to Iceland, I have attained my black belt in Bastard.
You should feel lucky that you achieved Black-Belt Bastardy at all.
With all the huggy-huggy-cuteness and whatnot embodied in the New Kindness, the hippies and appeasers would foist on us a world where a Ph.D in Everything would be easier to attain than true hard-core bastardliness.
Yes, clutch at that belt with pride, give the finger to all who stare as you do so, and give our best to the Vice-President at the next meeting of your elite bunch!