The blog network is getting a concussion, but we keep keeping on.  Most importantly, am I still in the sidebar?  This post should ensure I remain there a bit longer, whether it adds anything of value to the world or not.  Hey, google just informed me we still have a Bee Gee too.

Mano suggested PZ get cute little grippy booties to prevent further damage to his frail corpus.  What are you doing to stay alive in this benighted era?  I’m trying to keep my husband’s gothery within acceptable limits, while scheming on achieving a sense of creative fulfillment in the not too distant.  Will probably start posting some prose around here again, within a month or so.

I’m trying to think of a way to inflate the word count on this post.  Um… survival.  When I was a child, I took passing interest in the things one boyoid is meant to take interest in.  I got a book on survival called, like, Survival, from the library.  How to remove leeches and camouflage your bodkin whilst you sleep in enemy territory.  Shit like that.  It was a product of cultural Ollie North militarism, which makes me wonder how much bullshit it contained.  Feeding into the idea one could be that GI Joe who lives long enough to rack up a spartanesque kill count on the faceless hordes, recruiting kids more foolish and more physically adroit than myself to enlist.

For a few months I played more “realistically” with my GI Joes before I stopped playing with them in favor of TTRPGs.  Later, in high school, I had a friend who liked to amuse us all with his creative writing during lunch breaks, the future Bad Moustache Having Guy.  I’m suddenly reminded he did a few stories modeled off that Hamburger Hill type Vietnam vet foolery, guys surviving by duct-taping their guts in or stapling their heads back on.  I don’t remember any particular lines, just the raw idea.  Thanks, BMHG.  I hope your eldritch ladywife appreciates your literature as much as we did.

Alright, that will do.  Stay alive, y’all.

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