"Can you blog about contraception," asked one email. "I mean, doesn't contraception imply, like, sex? Are people still allowed to have sex?" (Well, the wastebin in the Arts block toilets clearly shows that they do, allowed or not. And responsibly, given the number of used condoms in amongst the Coke cans and sweet wrappers.)
Others found other aspects questionable. "You shouldn't hope to visit the US soon," cautioned the Nipple Owner. "You won't be allowed in." This after mentioning at the start of a post the desire, bred out of a frustration with modern capitalism, to bomb the US embassy.
The Nipple Owner went on to list topics he self-censored. Including an incident some decades ago where a party had gotten out of hand, featuring a (now) respectable academic. This, of course, got the Cow's mind working. She recalled many such parties - vaguely, and through a rather inebriated haze, it's true - from the days in which Cape Town still had an Intellectual Left.
She sighed heavily. Gramsci looked up questioningly. She shook her head, nostalgically. "I sometimes wish Cape Town still had an Intellectual Left!" she sighed.
"What about..." began Gramsci, hopefully. He paused, confused. Were there any intellectuals left? There were some clever people, sure. But were there any he'd classify as Intellectuals? He panicked. It reminded him of the discussion he'd overheard between the Cow and Mr Timberland, about clever people of a certain ethnic group. Now that, he felt, was definitely something not to blog about! Quickly, he turned to the Cow.
"So what did you think about the storms this past weekend?" he asked, nervously.