Merit-bound Alley

Liberalgeek over at Delaware Liberal says I’m on the brink of obsolescence. This may be the case, but it is for a couple of good reasons. One, I myself have had a new addition to the family as many of you are aware. Two, the work schedule has kept me too busy or too tired to spend time on the abyss that is American politics. Thirdly, I’m spending some of my free time trying to prepare myself to finally go for a degree.

In the meantime, expect posts to be sporadic and about the events that move me the most. You will not see a continuation of the apparently unceasing coverage of what Mr. A.A.tkins has had for breakfast. You won’t see theories about where the GOP is headed except for one, down the shitter. My mind right now is filled to the brim with family, algebra, and astronomy.

I really am sorry if I’m not covering the things that you folks want to read, as I like having readers to entertain. However, that has never been what MB-A was about. It’s about me learning things and putting my thoughts out there.

Rest assured, I’m not done here. I’m just continuing the slight hiatus that I’ve mentioned in previous posts. When time allows me to prioritize MB-A higher, there will be more posts, when it doesn’t there will be less. That’s just the way it is.

Check back as often as you want, and I’ll post as often as I can. Either that, or you can bitch in the comments here and I’ll give you the finger.

When I get up for work in the morning, I head straight to the shower, then brush, then make coffee. While that’s brewing, I get my first cigarette, then maybe check my auctions on WoW, prepare my thermos for work, spend a few minutes with the wife and kid, then kisses and byes and I step into the car and drive off to work.

What you don’t see in there is that during that whole time from waking to getting in the car, there is one line of a random song constantly playing in my head. It plays over and over, that one line. It’s torturous, and I can’t stop it until the radio goes on in the car. I’ve been thinking about why this happens, and I’ve figured out that it’s because I’m fucking insane.

One day, the radio trick won’t work, and they’ll find me on the side of the road, hugging my knees, rocking back and forth, and singing, “Fruit salad! Yummy yummy! Fruit salad! Yummy yummy! Fruit salad! Yummy yummy! Fruit salad! Yummy yummy! Fruit salad! Yummy yummy! Fruit salad! Yummy yummy!” They will then place me in a padded, soundproof room where Meg and Erin can watch me banging my head against the wall, singing that line from that Prince song, or that Beatles song, or that Matchbox 20 song.

So, if one day, the posts stop for two weeks or more, please come visit me at the asylum and say Hi. Bring a revolver.