A Brief and Harrowing Brush With Candor
Well, this blog has crossed a boundary of sorts. No, not the improvement in content or energy or even its merciful disappearance that you might have hoped for. No, through an overexuberant burst of technical advice on blogs I gave someone, my wife wrinkled her (porcelain and otherwise scantily experienced of wrinkles or other blemish) brow and asked, “So, do you have a blog?”
Deer in the headlights time, and maybe three seconds to decide. I haven’t told her, or anyone else I know, that I was blogging, simply because I wanted to determine what it was and where it was going before I stirred up any expectations beyond my own that I would feel obligated to cater to. Well, as my grovelling locution above suggests, I acknowledged to her that I had, indeed, been toying with one and told her how to find it. I was tempted to point her to something terrific and polished like How To Save The World or the Preacher, but it’s certain she would believe in neither the erudition of the former, nor the faith and general good-heartedness of the latter, so in the end I just owned up.
The advantage is the guaranteed hit statistic - maybe multiples if I really piss her off with something; the disadvantage to you, dear reader, is the suppression of further tales of my wild erotic life and my career as a Formula One racedriver. I quickly deleted all such prior references, and will post no more until I can get another blog started under another pseudonym.
