Slim Whitman reflects:
LIKE SANDS IN THE HOURGLASS, THESE ARE THE DAYS OF OUR STILE!

Can you believe another year is coming to a close? Where does the time go? It's a jolt when you realize it's another year down, another year closer to death. Come, take my hand and let's jump into Slim's patented "Way Back Machine (and Fried Chicken Shack)" and take a look at the events that have shaped Stile Project in 2001. Hold on tight, its gonna be a bumpy ride... er lower please, thanks!

JANUARY:

It feels like it was years ago, but in January people were still excited about All Your Base and could admit to such without incurring major injury. We held our first (and only) Link Whore contest. Indeed a learning experience, teaching us that breasts and vaginas come in different shapes and sizes... unfortunately, those shapes include the octogon and the rhombus (on the same person). Readers across the country were heard to exclaim "Mom, is that you?" Sadly, like the mammaries, the competition flopped.

FEBRUARY:

BMEZINE gave us fellas some makeover tips we could all live with...well, except maybe me. I tried it, but being a slow slung brother, I got aroused and just burst the shit like Bruce Banner turning into the Incredible Hulk. My girlfriend needed extensive oral surgery afterwards.

Stile gave us the a preview of his upcoming autobiography "Don't Beat Me With a Curtain Rod Mom, I'll Stay in the Basement" by way of an essay entitled "Information Junkie." We all felt a little better about ourselves...until we realized Valentine's Day was two days later.

Valentine's Day is the bane of 95% of Internet population, along with anything that has been touched by organized religion and living, breathing, legal aged women. We also groused about the Peter Pan guy looking for a girlfriend, and we all felt better. That is until he (inexplicably) found a "soulmate", which plunged most of us into a depression from which we will never recover.

The upside to this was that congestion on EFnet decreased slightly when 15% of the users shot themselves in the head. w00t!

MARCH:

Stile decided to give back to the little people and talk turkey on the mean streets of NYC. Beloved schizophrenic and urologist Lowtax joins the Stile Project team, a mixed blessing since he hadn't yet sought help for his goatse addiction. Stile bitches about the Taliban months before it was de rigeur to do so. (Hmmm... makes you wonder.) He also contracts a horrible illness that compels him to post links to content on Alltrue. Somehow we forgive him when he reveals he's got a bit of heart.

APRIL:

Nothing like a seizure to kick off April Fools day. Once the confusion and vomiting ended, Zeebarf reminded us how much we enjoy taking in the theatre. The preceeding was originally a home move from the last Whitman family barbecue. Due to bandwidth constraints, we had to shorten it into its current flash form. Uncle Leon sure can sing purdy! Pappy Stiles also gives us some handy tips, you know... just in case. When all seemed right with the world, we were once again reminded of how stupid we really are... really, really, stupid. Thanks Granny!

MAY:

Stile breaks it down, explaining why its hard to find a date when your standards are so damn high. Dog-collar-suburbanite Rach and her fleshy angstbags resurfaced, but quickly dissolved back into the ether so she could sulk at a mall somewhere.

Reader submission contests finally paid off with the Naked Stile Sux/Bucket Head competiton. We were treated to some hot bodies, without all that face nonsense gumming up the works.

Stile posts what he deems "the most offensive video clip EVER"... boy, we were all in for a surprise a few months later.

JUNE:

A fresh greasy face joins the Stile Project family. Guiseppe aka Da Woppy with his little monkey Emil, shuffles his way into our hearts with his broken english and horrible bad luck. Chosen by God to assist Fuhrer Stile, nobody did a better job cleaning out the septic tank. Stile showed us what he's really made of and sets manbeef hearts aflutter. There's only one way to deal with those admirers. In the end it's really all about the children. Besides don't need another hero! WooHAH!

JULY:

We finally get some answers to our pressing Stile related questions. Unfortunately, it didn't answer why he still pays me minimum wage... there are sharecroppers in SoCal that get more than I do! At least he gives me as much food as i can eat, and a really nice pair of tap dancing shoes. Perhaps we have learned too much anyway.

I don't know what's worse, this jackass getting the Stile Project logo tattooed on his leg, or that he DIDN'T EVEN KNOW WHAT IT MEANT WHEN HE GOT IT. Hey, Sparky: getting some random guy's name and logo on permanently etched onto your body might be the thing to do in prison, but now that you're out, you ain't gotta be the bitch no more, ya dig?

The servers hadn't combusted in nearly two weeks which meant we were due for a hack Looks like the plushies finally exacted their revenge. However, we perservered and concerned ourselves with what really matters.

AUGUST:

August was greeted with the launch of GO aka "Am I Stile or Not", providing our normally soft spoken readers an opportunity to tell us us how gay/fucking old/lame our image collection is (well, minus the Lesbionese photos.... some call it art). As a further service to our readers (whom we love more than personal hygene), we helped open up those lines of communication. I heard the e-cards were used to frighten the elderly to death at nursing homes in dire need of furnace fuel.

On the subject of disposable people, some hack at Salon write an article about camgirls , and that's just SUPER. Woppy gives us one last adventure.

The infamous kitty eating video debuts. PETA and folks who enjoy laughing at abortion montages and Chechnian soldiers getting their throat slashed gives us the lowdown. No problem with our priorities... no siree.

On the upside, at least Stile ends up getting some. C'est FANTASTIQUE!

SEPTEMBER:

After a brief change of management, September kicks off nicely with more arts and crafts and a word from our friends at the Danish Tourism Board.

Then everything goes fucking insane. The best or worst day of your life depending on where you live. World weary disaffected youths put down their Caramel Macchiatos and slap some knowlege on us... Intro to PolySci really must have paid off! We all keep it together, and for a short time we realize how both lucky and vunerable we really are. The lines at WalMart runneth over. Would we ever laugh again? Hell yes!

OCTOBER:

Flash afficionados do their part for the war effort and we learn you can trust nobody in these dangerous times.

Useful info on our friends of the Far East and a high ranking officer. Igor teaches us how he makes new friends, and we provide a bunch of other useful advice. The site is hurtin' for a new server. Stile's readers were nonplussed that we asked them for help, but many contributed anyway and we're VERY thankful. Hey, it was either Paypal or hanging out by the docks in a cheerleader costume. Never again, not after that summer in Bangkok!

The Gods smile upon us all with the unveiling of the ultimate in digital FAPology. The world was never the same again... emergency rooms across the country overflowed with patients with blistered dongs. Stile was definitely onto something.

NOVEMBER:

As if once wasn't enough, Stile kicked the bucket again. Thankfully, he got better... depending what your definition of "better" is. At least we could take refuge in the soothing words of our leaders and the love of a good woman.... over and over again.

Stile threw my black ass onto a Greyhound bus bound for Sheboygan, Wisconsin to cover the Lil Ms. Stile Project Beauty Pageant. What a delightful affair! When I realised I was the only black man in the entire state, and I made a hasty exit and watched a few movies at home.

PeeWee got busted (sorta) again! We all knew it was fucking bullshit anyway.

DECEMBER:

Here we are, three quarters of the way through December.. and what do we have to show for it? Lovely ladies from across the Atlantic, your first time sex stories and lots of fucking christmas cheer.

So as we edge nearer to the precipice at the end of 2001, what have we learned? Personally, I've learned absolutley nothing. My attention span, much like my chances of running for public office, are shot to hell. I know I sure am more paranoid though!

Oh yeah... never trust the Japanese.

I'm going to hide under my couch and look for corn chips. Have a super holiday.