Ugh, so the thought of posting regularly to a blog kind of makes me want to punch myself in the dick. I mean, I've long held the jaded position that the blogoshere is little more than an over-hyped nexus of open diaries, a place where people wanting for actual problems in their lives can gather to whine, and listen to other people whine, about the trivial bullshit that plagues their Starbucks existences. That, and I sort of feel like blogging is an activity that just smacks all to loudly of honkeyism, a pernicious ill bound to disrupt the very fabric of American culture. Then again, I'm pretty much the whitest whitey I know, so maybe my reluctance is just a weak attempt to protect myself from becoming all too enmeshed in the song of my people. One a scale of one to ten, one being not terribly white and ten being The most blinding whiteness imaginable, I rate in at about a Weezer. I'm whiter than a croquet match in a Trader Joe's parking lot. So I guess I should just shut the f*ck up and make with the blogging already.
See, this exercise in regular blogging is really just about consistent and regular writing. Which writing, I'm hoping, will improve steadily as the days turn to weeks, allowing me to eventually overcome an embarrassing lack of production, joke-wise. Fun fact: if you google my full name, you'll find a link to my most recent youtube video, now almost two years old. The bulk of the jokes on that video are at least twice as mature. I really haven't written all that much new stuff in the last half decade. Of course, if you read the post that directly precedes this one, you will see that I've been kinda busy not losing weight. Pretty much a full-time job. Oh, that and my full-time job. So I'm thinking that what's really called for here is to just open the flood gates, to let out all the dogs and see which ones come back carrying something edible. I'm hoping for ducks and pheasants, but right now I'll settle for the odd squirrel. By which I mean that even the hackiest cheese-it of a one liner is more than acceptable to me at this point in my life. This honest acceptance of whatever comes next, regardless of its quality, is the key to getting back in the habit of thinking along creative lines. As my sister would say, it's a muscle, and you've got to exercise it to make it any stronger. And just like I'm sure nobody would really want to watch me huff and puff my way through an hour long run, I'm OK with this little blog not necessarily always yielding the most awe inspiring results.
Oh, and a note on the new (and interim, I should add) title: I had to change it. Remember how the TSA started grabbing everyone's nuts this month? Now remember that dude in San Diego who filmed them reacting to his refusal to be groped? Yeah, that all went down on his fucking blog, the title of which you may be able to surmise. Yeah. So, that happened. Barring some attention-whoring publicity stunt on my part, I guess I'm leaving myself open to more blog doppelgangers. So be it, but I'll be ready with a quick name change next time.
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