I acknowledge a
gentle rib there in my reference to
a recent post by my pal Jonathan Carpenter. If you don't find J-Carp as humorous as I do in his quixotic relentlessness, I don't know... go rent
"Borat" or something and have a little snicker whilst you sip your
Beaujolais Nouveau. But call me
Sancho; I can't help laughing at all the bloggers doing post after post with feigned indignation, the obligatory paranoia about so-called "cyber-stalkers" and the ironic advice to ignore "trolls". Well..
so long and thanks for all the hits.

Back to me. I'm not dead or anything that serious. I just have a new situation whereby I can't blog as much. It would be kind of like, well, oh I don't know... OK. Say I got a job as a garbage collector... not that I did get that job. But if they didn't give it to me because they thought I couldn't drive that stupid truck or lift those big cans they're
idiots.... uh, a better example would be, uh, say I was elected Game Warden and had to
investigate cases of satanic animal immolation and they offered me a bunch of money to do a TV show about it, you know, like COPS -- oh, I suppose you don't have a fantasy job, Mr./Ms. Grocery-Packer!
That reminds me, for several reasons of
this recent Moonbones post about Amy Welborn's blog, which might be worth commenting on if that old Beaujolais piece from Slate left a sour taste in your mouth.

And that, my friends, is one flippin' sweet Volvo front-loader. What do you think? Email me or post your comments to this blog.