Blogging, Me Likeee

Nothing like waiting until a trend is so overexposed the mere mention of the word,.. uhhh... don't say it, wait! ...ehhh...

"blog,... blog, blog, blog, blog, blog!..."

stands the hair up, tweaks the ears like sharpened pencils were being jammed into them, and buzzes my teeth as if I brushed them with Desenex. That would depict the sickening embarassment and general ickiness I feel hearing every talking head and their long-suffering mothers buffalooning that... uhhh... please... no...

"blogging..."

that blogging..., children, blogging will change our very fucked up world. AND do it with less calories!

Now CEO attendees at Davos can say nothing in so many different ways,... in a blog! However unfortunate, they do. Well, why not? And uh, me too.

It upsets me, obviously. I tend to denigrate what I later fall in love with, though. No, I made that up - a popular sport lately.

Truth is, I like blogs. What freedom. What loosening of the chains this text-based flatulence allows one. It pleases, dearies,... pleases me like french fries. Oh yes...

Tremoring, snarky, cardboard top-hatted entrances aside, I've determined I'm squatting on a gold mine: myself! I think this Internet thing might take off one day,... man. Really.

So spending way (way) too much time at home (awww!) with the dial set to blog, might as well, might as well a'eady. Giddy wi' it.

So Blog,... blog, blog, blog, blog, blog.

The blog is dead, long live the blog.

Mike, your fault. All three of you.