Change Of DirectionDespite announcing my slow return to blogging a few weeks (months?) back, there's a lack of posts lately on TBT that have made people think otherwise. It isn't because I've ran out of things to say. Far from it. It's more or less a combination of things -- the home life is a complete and total hell which is too long of a story to sort out let alone post about, my own mental and physical health is marching ever so slowly southward, I've still got a fuckload of things to say about politics, Bush, Religion, and the media but being on a 28.8 dial-up connection (38.6 on good sunny days) leaves little time to broaden my own knowledge let alone pass along any possible brain droppings of my own here, and to be brutally honest, when I think about blogging, I've gotten to the point where I'd rather talk about things other than Bush/Religion/Politics/Media that make us the same than the items that continue to either divide us or serve as more preaching for the choir.
Even during my brief hiatus up until now, I still managed to preach to the choir in the comments sections at Alternate Brain, Moon Of Alabama, and Shakes Manor and I'm starting to believe that the parishoners amongst those blogs (well, those few parishioners who might actually care - if any) already know what my opinion on most matters is going to be that they could parody either my eloquence or over-the-top hyperbole, and come frighteningly close to the bullseye. As a result, I've seen little to no reason to either echo on this blog exactly the things I'm saying in their respective comments sections. Cross posting might be great for convenience, but the last thing I want to do as a blogger is to consolidate the very medium I use for communication by elevating cross-posting to such levels of expectation that convenience itself soon becomes a sort of vanity by syndication, and thus making me no different than the consolidated, vain, and syndicated opinion mavens of the MSM.
That doesn't mean I'm going to stop preaching to those respective chiors. No, it just means that there's got to be a tangible difference between the Sizemore one reads in a Haloscan and the Sizemore they read here on TBT and I believe that difference might just be better served by not preaching to the allready converted masses and not providing another tenor to the echo on this blog, and like I said above, I'm becoming more attracted to lightening people's moods by posting about other things that make us the same as opposed to further darkening their moods with our simular views of Bush, politics, the war, etc. that simply won't be changing until either the Chimptastic motherfucker and his humpbacked and snaggle toothed Vice President is either removed from office or realizes within their last convulse of death, the only thing that was in its "last throes" all this time was their own central nervous systems. The rightwingers can claim all they want that such feelings or beliefs are the result of what they call "Bush Derangement Syndrome" but everyone knows that not only are they full of shit with such Fristian clinical observations, but if it wasn't for their "Bush Derangement Syndrome" 6 years ago, we'd have President Al Gore right now instead of Decider McDumbfuck and probably 3000+ more American troops alive and spending time with their families instead of having to meet their maker.
And with that, my next post here I hope lightens your mood, and cracks you up, or gives you hope however fleeting it may be because, if you're anything like me, you could use a hell of lot more laughter now than anger and tears. I know I do, and it came to me with the following lyrics from "Stop Knockin" by Tommy Shaw ...
Busted and broke
And to old to toke
I'd pay somebody money
If they'd tell me a joke ...
I can sure personally identify with those words for I am indeed busted and broke and would certainly pay someone in Monopoly money if they'd just tell me a really good whopper. And I'd like to think I'm too old to toke but ol' Fixer & Gordon would probably not only beg to differ but introduce me to a friend of theirs:
Gord: Gotta lovely lass here that wants to meet ya, Sizemore!
Me: Is her name Mary Jane?
Fixer: Yea-no! Um, her name's Anita. Yeah, Anita!
Me: Uh-huh. And her last name is 'Bonghit', right?
Gord: Si, si, Senor!
I'd probably be pleased to meet her all over again.