Tankers full of oily cash

XX-rated greed.

Make that EXXON-rated greed and greed is good if you're in the oil bidness.

On Monday, Exxon Mobile released a grossly exorbitant figure for its quarterly profit.
$10.7 Billion.
No, that's not a typo, that's a B as in Billion.
Also note that the $10.7 Billion is the profit acquired from us, the American consumer, over the span of one quarter, a.k.a. 3 months, not a whole year.
Add that $10.7 billion to Exxon's profits in the other three quarters and you come up with a figure that amazingly reaches an incredible $36.13 billion, a 42 percent rise over Exxon's profits in 2004. According to a Reuter's story, the $36.13 billion annual profit is bigger than the economies of 125 of the 184 countries ranked by the World Bank.

Exxon is also still trying to wrangle its way out of paying the fines it was assessed after the Valdez crash that soaked an entire coastline in slime. They've probably already paid enough in lawyers' fees trying to get out of taking care of their mistake they could have covered a pretty big chunk of their fine.
Greed, greed, greed.
What would Jed Clampett think of this sort of bubblin' crud?

Keepin' it Squirreal

I love documentary films. I can't help myself. No matter what creative brains come together and create the most out-of-this-world scenarios featuring everything from people who survived a plane crash on a deserted freaky island to Empire State Building climbing apes to Jabba the Hut to Blondie to Laverne & Shirley, sometimes Truth really is stranger than Fiction. And often more compelling.

I've spent the past 24 hours or so with my nose pressed against the boob tube. I've just discovered a recent addition to my satellite selections.

The Documentary Channel has definitely grabbed my attention and on top of that I caught a showing of "Slasher" on IFC this morning. Last night's Doc channel offering included a viewing of "Almost Elvis" a doc about Elvis impersonators. I've actually seen that one before. I missed the offering covering Bob Marley that came on just before the King wanna-bes. I'm sure they'll replay it and I'll take a gander at the Ganja loving guy.

Then this morning IFC brought me the John Landis directed "Slasher" about a mercenary used car salesman who travels across the country spending three-day weekends at car lots doing his "Slasher" bit, hacking prices and probably eventually hacking off the customers who buy the lemons on the lot.

The guy was ADD and beer-swilling from early a.m. to late in the evening. Yet, you have to give him credit for loving his family and his friends. And the ability to talk just about anybody behind the wheel of a 1995 Escort.

Even more compelling was the fact this was shot in Memphis with plenty of images that are familiar to anyone who has spent a weekend in the cty by the mighty Mississippi.

I'm sure IFC will give "Slasher" plenty of viewings since it financed the doc. So, when you see it on your TV guide grid, mark it to watch.

Interesting, compelling, sometimes scary. You may never look at the process of purchasing a car the same way again.

Face/Off

John Woo was way ahead of his time. The visually interesting director was behind the lens for the action flick "Face/Off" that starred John Travolta and Nicolas Cage and featured a Hollywood-version of an identity switch thanks to a surgical procedure that was thought to be completely beyond the realm of possibility. People scoffed at the premise when the movie premiered in 1997.

In reality, surgeons in France have caught up with the Tinsel Town concept, giving a 38-year-old French woman a new visage after a grisly encounter with her labrador left her face a bloody mess of hanging flesh and visible bone. Voila, the world's first face transplant. The first photos of the woman have been published. The previous link provides the story of her recovery and includes a pic of her. You won't be able to pull your eyes away from the image.

Obviously there are bound to be some psychological issues in this woman's future and those of her teenage daughters. What must it be like to stare into a mirror and see someone other than yourself?

Creepy, Vincent Price kind of stuff happening here.

Ban censorship

It appears some not-so-forward thinking folks in Middle Tennessee have taken offense at the classic novel, "To Kill A Mockingbird," by Harper Lee, according to The Tennessean. Some sensitive parent has issue with the tale of a young girl learning about race in a small Southern town. The little girl, Scout, and the denizens of her hometown all have lessons to learn and Lee's tale keeps readers entranced from start to finish.
This parent, in true cowardly form, is pursuing the banning of the book from a school library as an anonymous judge and jury.
Check out the story.
Thanks to Newscoma for bringing this to my attention.

Mano-a-mano with a monkey

You know, it's not just any day you have a monkey make an appearance in your working environment. And, no, I'm not referring to some human jerk who upsets the entire staff. I'm talking about an actual swing-from-its-tail, chattering monkey.
We had a woman bring a Capuchin Monkey into our office yesterday.
A diaper-wearing, sucker-licking monkey.

No, the circus wasn't traveling through town. No, not a man in a gorilla suit bringing a singing telegram. No, the zoo didn't have an escaped primate. Heck, our town doesn't even have a zoo, not even a peetting zoo for that matter, or a singing telegram service.

This woman with the monkey, from what I understand, is sort of a temporary foster care mother for this little 10-month-old Capuchin. It's not the first one she has taken into her home.

Talk about making whatever limited productivity was occurring in our office grind to a halt. Bring a cute monkey, even without roller skates or a cowboy hat and chaps, into a workplace and everyone takes a timeout from their desk.

As best I can recall in my foggy, hazy, lurid past, this is the first time I've ever touched a monkey. (Attention all of you with a penchant for double entendres, please keep your mind out of the gutter at this point.) I'm pretty sure, I would have recalled such a human-to-primate encounter. And dang it, not one person got a picture of me going mano-a-mano with the monkey, so you'll just have to take my word on it.

Polecat promenade

Living in rural West Tennessee means traveling many a side road, back road, trail and track to get where you need to go. Even the main roads are pretty off the beaten path.

One certainty of auto commuting this time of year is frequent olfactory encounters with the permeating musky aroma of the skunk. It seems that late January and early February brings out the frisky nature in this woodland critter. And blinded by love, the search for the perfect mate and or the need to procreate and fornicate, these polecats forget to look both ways before crossing the highways and byways, resulting in an inordinate number of aromatic road kill.

Or maybe those left scattered around the pavement are the skunks spurned by forest love gone wrong that have flung themselves in front of oncoming Ram trucks in an effort to end their pining for a black-and-white mate.

Either way, they keep my nose busy on the way to and from the office.

Love gone wrong is always so sad.

Cravin' a trip to Cravens World

As Squirrel Queen, it's not often I admit my flawed human nature, but today I must. I've been remiss and I now genuflect before you, begging for mercy and forgiveness.

I have delayed too long in providing you the path to Cravens World.
Cravens provides political cartoons for the newspaper I work for. Her work is one of a kind. Very often political. Always creative and thought provoking. Usually stirring the stink.

The sketch above this post flowed out of her pen as her bit of tribute to honor my birthday. A fine gift it is.

Take a trip into her mind.

Now.

I command you.

howdy

As I was obsessively perusing my blog's site meter, hoping, wishing, dreaming that I can convert more into the Squirrel church, I noticed I had an inordinate number of visits from the Nashvegas area.

Looking at my referrals, most seemed to pay a visit to my little shrine via the Nashville Is Talking web site. With the knowledge that my partner Newscoma may have posted something dubious about my kinship with the fine furry frolickers of the parks, I surfed over to N.I.T. to see if she'd, onece again, besmirched my legion.

To my surprise I discovered that I had been added to the blog roll. Another celebration ensued at the hacienda. The flying squirrels were soaring, sprinkling confetti like it was the Super Bowl. The rest of the squirrels broke into their stash, hauling out all the extra acorns they'd put back for winter. Disco blared from the speakers. What? You didn't know the squirrels love the disco tunes? Oh, my friends. You have much to learn about the squirrels.

Many thanks to all who visit. Welcome and come back anytime.

Oh yeah, the squirrels say thanks too.

rough weekend for Raider Nation

As a long-time Raider fan, this weekend has been rough.
I've had to watch three Raider rivals play for a chance to go to the Super Bowl while Al Davis' team continues to enjoy a really long off-season. The only good thing about the Steelers winning the AFC Championship game Sunday afternoon to earn a trip to the Super Bowl is the fact that the Broncos won't get to make that trip. Getting to watch Mike Shanahan suffer almost made it worth having to endure a Steeler celebration. Then came the NFC game that saw another Raider rival hit the gridiron. Yes, Seattle, once a common AFC West foe for Oakland, is a dominant team in the NFC.

Heck, the Raiders' off-season is stretching and stretching onward. The Silver and Black have been "off" for several seasons now. It's becoming hard to even recall a time when they were on.

Something smells rotten in Raider Nation. It can't get much bleaker in the Black Hole.

living the high life

It's about 24 hours since the first guest arrived yesterday.
I'm still relishing the event.
Lo, though I am the Squirrel Queen every day of the week, yesterday I was truly treated like royalty.

A special gathering all centered around me. A rarity. I'm really not used to it.
A good time was had by all, and that's the best present of all for me.

party party

The streets were lined with fans paying their tribute to the Squirrel Queen. The planets aligned. The liberals and conservatives came together. The Bud Lite and the Miller Lite coexisted in the same cooler. I'm all about the synchronicity.

It was a mighty fine gathering. Kudos to all who attended.
The queen hopes everyone had as royal a time as her highness did.

all the popular squirrels will be there

My 6-year-old niece Bear has diligently spent the last three weeks planning my surprise party.

I think at this point everybody in the county has been invited. If you haven't yet received an invitation from my partner, my sister-in-law or my niece yet, I'm sitting at my desk writing this post to officially give you the opportunity to drop by the compound Saturday night.

If you want to yell "SURPRISE!!, show up about 5 p.m. I think that's when I'm supposed to return home so Bear can lead the screaming upon my entrance. It's guaranteed I'll give my most Oscar-worthy performance, exhibiting shock and a near heart attack upon learning of Bear's cunning and conniving ways.

There have been many conversations in hushed whispers between she and my partner Tick featuring the discussion of the guest list, foods to serve and how to decorate. From what I hear, there will be a plethora of hand-drawn squirrels to hang about the compound.

Bear asked me the other day while we were in the car what I wanted for my birthday. Knowing the work she's put into her secret endeavor, I slyly told her I'd love to have a birthday party, but there problably wasn't time to get one organized. Her face immedicately lit up thanks to a devious grin spreading across it like Homer chasing a Duff and a donut. I thought her eyeballs were going to splatter against the windshield and make that gooey noise you hear when a bug collides with a car at high speed in the summer. She could hardly contain her secret. More whispering ensued as soon as we exited the car and I was out of earshot.

So, if you don't have plans Saturday night, show up at the hacienda, BYOB and no gifts please.

And when I come in the door, stand where you can get a good look at Bear's face as she yells "SURPRISE!" It should be worth the trip over.

Ben to the Franklin

Happy 300th Birthday to Ben Franklin!!

It seems like just yesterday that he was 299 years old. My how time flies.

Ben is THE MAN.

Inventor, gadabout, rebel, writer, philosopher

He created either the actual object or the concept ranging from bifocals to libraries to fire departments to mapping the Gulf Stream to Vitamin C.

Oh, lo, I realize he was not perfect, but still not a bad example to follow.

Here are a couple of my favorite Franklin quotes

"There never was a good war nor a bad peace."
--Excerpt from a letter to Sir Joseph Banks dated July 27,1783

"They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety. "
--Historical Review of Pennsylvania.

He ain't heavy, he's my brother

The human body is one freaky organism.
Just read a story linked on Fark from a Moscow (and not the one in Tennessee) newspaper telling the story of a Russian man named Igor (now that's no surprise)having a tumor removed from his back.
It turns out Igor's "tumor" was really a twin brother that his body absorbed in the womb and had been hauling around for 35 years. It seems the "tumor/brother" had feet and arms.
Check out the pic with the story to see the tiny, weird appendages.
The "tumor/brother" has some freaky toes similar to my partner's tootsies.
This little piggy joined the carnival, lived next to the Bearded Lady and the Geek and cried "WEE WEE WEE " all the way home.

cool cat creates bear scat

Steve Smith is the man. He turned the Chicago Bear secondary into a bunch of dizzy, pinwheeling, arm-swinging, no-tackling turf eaters.

And this was supposedly another "Monsters of the Midway" Bear defense.

Not so much on Sunday.

And the Carolina Panthers finished the game with their third-best running back lined up behind their Ragin Cajun QB Jake Delhomme.

Couple that game with Peyton's pummeling and you have to say, "What a Sunday afternoon."

Peyton goes kaput

Just watched the first game of the afternoon. The Steelers earned it, 100 percent.

The stellar Steeler D dominated the Indy offensive line, got pressure on Peyton and earned a trip to Denver.

I cheered, yet felt bad for The Bus on the fumble, at the end of the game.
Then the Colts squandered their miracle. With three timeouts still in their pockets, Indy should have run the ball on third down.

After the incompletion, they might even should have gone for it on fourth down instead of sending out that "liquored up kicker" Mike Vanderjagt for an extremely loooooong field goal.

Poor use of timeouts if you ask me.

But, give the Steelers credit. They earned it. I think they overcame a couple of bad calls to get the win. I thought there should have been a pass interence call early against Indy and then the review should have given the Steelers the ball on the Troy Polamalu non-interception.

Overall, a dominating performance by Pittsburgh, as badly as I hate to admit it.

Loving the Raiders as I did during my youth, my natural rivals were the Broncos and Steelers. Thus the AFC championship game will be miserable for me. With the extended and painful demise of the Raiders over the past 20 years and the move of the Oilers to Tennessee, my allegiances have swapped some. So now, it's not quite as painful as it would have been years ago to root for either the Broncos or the Steelers. I like Jake the Snake (liked him more when he was a Cardinal) and I think it would be peachy if Jerome "The Bus" Bettis made it to the Super Bowl XL.

When I see Polamalu, I have visions of Otto from the "The Simpons". Must be the hair and the fact that Jerome Bettis is "The Bus". It all comes together in my mind.

So, maybe next year Peyton. Have a nice offseason.

Now, time to root against a fomer Gator (Rex Grossman) and his team (Da Bears.)

Still have chips and beer left and football to watch.

A good day overall.

The king is dead

The king is dead. And I'm not talking about the fried peanut butter and banana samich-loving, jumpsuit-wearing dude born in Tupelo.

The New England Patriots finally lost a playoff game. I'm still not sure if they got beat or if they finally beat themselves. Five turnovers, special teams blunders, etc., put them on the short side of the scoreboard. Even the brilliant Bill Belichick, he of the monk-like sweatshirts, couldn't put together a game plan that includes a solution to overcoming that many miscues.

Time for a new reign. Will it be Peyton's turn? We'll know soon enough.

In the NFC, you've got to give credit to Matt Hasselbeck for putting the Seahawks on his shoulders, and not so nimble feet, and hauling them into the NFC divisional championship game. With Shaun Alexander knocked out with a concussion early on, the Seahawks, as a unit, looked to be KOed, but Hasselbeck scrambled and threw them past the Redskins.

I've still got some chips and hops and barley beverages left in the cupboard and fridge, so bring on the first kickoff of Sunday's games.

Snackety snark

I've done my pregame shopping.





Chips - check
Buttery popcorn - check
Beer - check
Beer nuts for the squirrels - check

To prepare for the mindlessness of watching the NFL playoffs, I'm partaking in a viewing of "Scream 3." Gets me out of that crazy thinkin' habit. Dulls the mind. By time for the first kickoff, I'll be completely numb from the neck up.

Now that's my kind of Saturday.

Or Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday or Friday for that matter.

Echoing the Eko info clarification

My obsessive partner has informed me that the "Lost" character I referred to in my earlier post spells his name Eko, not Echo.

Thus confirming my earlier post that she is obsessive about this show.

By the way, if you'd like to read her rants about her obsessions check out her newscoma blog.

Squirreladonna

I'm on a groovy kind of run lately. I've been finishing my work on a freakish (for me) pace that gets me out of the office at the same time as everybody else. It's a minor miracle, on the par with a crying Madonna statue. The Vatican would never recognize it as such, but I know within myself that there has to be divine intervention of some sort for me to leave my desk before the sun sets.

As a result of my recent good fortune, I've been able to share my no-so-infinite wisdom and knowledge in our recent after-hours get-togethers. So, in other words, the rest of the gang has been blessed as well. The miracle is spreading the wealth and joy of me to the masses. Oh ye, take this blessing and annoint it with 12-ounce servings of a hops and barley beverage.
My editor is trying to get a new "Muckrakers Society" started. Granted a good percentage of the office is at the corner beverage establishment on any given late afternoon, but now she's trying to pull in some of the college writers to join us and increase and broaden discussions beyond our normal realm. So far a couple of the whippersnappers have deigned to grace us with their presence. Tales and ideas have been swapped in our inaugural meetings. We'll see if it grows into something or not. Time and conversation will tell.

Getting finished early also means I get to come home and watch some telly when I'm not in the gym. You see, more than a computer head, I'm addicted to the idiot box. TV rules me. Right now, I'm checking out the new edition of Lost. It's been weeks since they've aired anything original. I enjoy Lost, but I'm not fanatical about it like some. My partner is wrapped up in the Internet pursuit of clues and rumors concerning the castaways and the plot. I watch it and wait seven days for more input. She spends hours surfing.

Right now, Mr. Echo is kicking everybody's ass in pursuit of more Madonna statues.
Funny how things go around and come around.

Ratty went a courtin'

Blasphemy!!!
Fark included a post from the London Sun about a potential "squirrat." A cross between a rat and a squirrel ... say it ain't so.
What is the world coming to when a squirrel can be besmirched in such a way? These tabloids must be brought to a stop, using papparazzi to catch a squirrel when it's not at its fluffy-tailed best or even, heaven forbid, using photoshop to create and alter an image.
There is no end to their evil.
Let the squirrels play in peace.

Island girl

I'm all geeked up today. Spent part of the morning perusing the latest Survivor cast as announced yesterday by CBS.

Yes, I'm a freak for reality TV and Survivor is King. All Hail Mark Burnett. I've offered to bare his lovechild. So far, I've been spurned and I'm taking these orders of protection pretty seriously now.
Anyhooo, back to the show. I was reading the bios of the new cast. It seems their casting director almost always chooses a cast member from the great Volunteer State, Tennessee, including the winner of Survivor Outback, Tina. This year's potential Tennessee Sole Survivor is Melinda. In her bio she claims to have worked at Six Flags over Georgia and at Dollywood as an entertainer. How dealing with redneck tourists prepares her to "outwit, outplay, outlast" I'm not real clear on but good luck to her anyway.

This cast includes the likes of an astronaut, a yoga instructor, a seventh-degree blackbelt and the 1978 South Carolina Miss Watermelon Queen to compete with Melinda.

Anyhooo, the show begins Feb. 2 and I've already got my Tivo set. Can't wait, must start surfing for spoilers.

Serving up Grilled Alito

It's early Tuesday morning and I'm watching the local news on TV. They've recycled the same four stories in a constant loop that's sapping my will to live.
Can barely lift fingers to tap an SOS on keyboard.

Wait, again the image of Diane Feinstein grilling Supreme Court nominee Alito pops back up. The vision of her hair helmet creates a chuckle, resulting in my pulling in a fresh breath of air. Oxygen arrives at brain. Cells are revived.

I'll live to mock another day.

May the grilling continue.

Hello Cleveland

Got home tonight in time to catch the end of This Is Spinal Tap.
Brilliant.
Nothing like a watching a dwarf dance around a miniature version of Stonehenge.
Turn it up to 11.
Ah, good times.

Today was enjoyable in the most unexpected ways. That makes it one to remember.
I was given four gifts today.
The first gift was some time to myself. Living with my extended family is a joy, but alone time is more rare than I'm used to. I relish my solitude. Some folks need constant interaction. Not me. Working overnights in a building by myself as I did for so many years before, I learned to appreciate time by alone. Sometimes I feel selfish for taking that time when I can.
Having a few hours with just my dogs asleep on the arm of the couch and time to watch my favorite mindless TV while playing on the puter was the first benefit today.
The second gift was from the most unexpected place. Titans radio man Mike Keith was in town for a speaking engagement at a luncheon and one of our feature writers had the assignment. When I finally got to the office this afternoon, Sara, the writer who covered the event, said Mike told her he had, hanging in his office, a framed story I did for my newspaper following a visit he made to our town prior to the Titans' Superbowl season. That floored me. I remember the interview and he requested I send him a copy of the story. I did and never expected it to hold a place in his office. That made me feel pretty good to know that my work is on the wall of an NFL broadcaster.
My third gift came directly from Sara. She got me a Mike Keith autograph. I don't usually request them for myself, so it was special to me that she thought of me and then to have the connection with him through our earlier interview was even more of a plus.
My fourth gift came after I covered the Skyhawks basketball games tonight. Talking with Skyhawk broadcaster Chris Brinkley, he told me I was number two in his lottery of people to be stranded on a deserted island with due to conversational skills, common interests, etc. Chris is one smart, curious, personable person and, coming from him, I take that as an extreme compliment.
The only downside to the day was missing my partner, asleep before I got home from the games.
Speaking of the games, the Skyhawk women were miserably awful the first half against Samford, bricking shot after shot. The second half was a complete turnaround, with Tennessee-Martin working harder than Samford on both ends of the court, taking a lead and earning a win.
The men's game was exacerbating for Skyhawk fans. The men allowed Samford to dictate the tempo, slowing things down to a crawl and shooting an incredible percentage from the floor. Samford built a lead and then frustrations mounted for UTM fans when, in the second half, a foul for an elbow resulted in the ejection of a Skyhawk. The play was on the opposite end of the floor from where I was, so I honestly can't say it was a good or bad call. I do know it's the second time this season the Skyhawks have had a player ejected, thus losing that player for the following game.
That hurts in the long term.
It was good to see former Westview product Jason Black getting some quality minutes in the Samford lineup as a redshirt freshman. Black knocked down shots from the outside and was as smooth as he was in high school. I miss seeing him perform in a Westview uniform. The Westview boys could use a player like Black today, confident and able.

Young at heart

Well, the big game was last night. It only took an extra four days into the New Year for the NCAA to put on its most anticipated showdown. And it was a show, a spectacle.

Yet, I honestly miss the days when all the games were on New Year's Eve and New Years Day and you flipped back and forth between the channels to catch the action. And believe you me, that was pretty tough back in my younger days (pre-TV remote controls). Gridiron fanatics had an alternative choice on at least one of their other two channels. The football excitement was crammed into an action-packed three days or so, instead of a ho-hum three weeks. There also wasn't an overabundance of less-than-stellar match-ups. Now a days, you've got the Weedeater Bowl featuring the Sisters of St. Mary's PeeWee Fighting Pelicans taking on the Riverville Junior College Marmosets or the Music City Bowl's contest between the eighth-placed team from Conference Q vs. the ninth-best team from Conference Z (both sporting dodgy 6-5 records). And since there's only a game per day, the sports networks get a chance to hype these mediocre contests to the nth degree over a 24-hour span.

Enough of my squirrely ranting.

Back to the BCS extravaganza of last night.

Texas pulled off the big upset (according to some).

If the mighty Trojans had been able to make a single tackle in the open field, then the results might have been different. And don't forget, it seems the NCAA still needs some spit and polish on its video review system. Texas benefitted when it was used properly, but it seems USC could have used some replay love itself.

I'm actually an advocate of instant replay. If the equipment and technology is there, utilize it to make the correct call. Why stick to an inaccurate decision when it can be corrected. Thanks to the JumboTron screens, everyone in the stadium now knows when the refs blow a call. Yes, the officials are on the mark with the bulk of their decisions, but they are human, so give them a boost when need be.

The game was a thriller, providing lots of offense and raising Vince Young's NFL draft status a notch, if you ask me. He ran rampant - over, around and through the Trojan defense like a rabid squirrel after a coconut.

Not that he wasn't already at or near the top of some pro scouts' wish list. Maybe the Titans could bring him on board. Begora, the Nashville team needs some help at the skill positions. Yes, Steve McNair is a horse and is country strong, but the man has been beaten down over the past five seasons. Heck, if my nephew threw a Nerf football and hit him in the chest with it, even while he was wearing his pads and a flak jacket, these days he'd need at least two weeks to recover from a bruised sternum. Yep, the Titans have Volek in the stable. He's shined a few times filling in for a gimpy McNair, but he's also been very pedestrian at other times. And having Drew Rosenhaus as an agent just gives me one reason to ship him and his attached headache off to some other franchise.

And what was Reggie Bush thinking with his ill-advised lateral, aka fumble. That was just Bush league, if you'll allow me a pun. A score on that drive might have kept mighty mo on the USC sideline for the rest of the game.

However, Young and the Longhorns deserve every ounce of applause and confetti that comes their way with their incredible late rally.

The college season is officially over now. Triumphs and defeats, upsets and disappointments abounded. Some programs saw a resurgence, while others began a decline, and that was just in the SEC. Some coaches are on the hot seat, while others are coveted by competing schools. The carousel continues to turn.

Taking the leap into the great Blogosphere

Well, here we go.
What better time to start a new venture than on New Year's Day.
Diets, schmiets. Get fit - not me. I'm resolving to start something that will possibly better my mind, if not rot what's left of it, while potentially ruining my physical self with a severe case of carpal tunnel syndrome.
I've been meaning to get this thing going for weeks.
I was way too busy helping organize the Procrastinators United meeting, which was put off and has yet to be rescheduled.
For me, starting this blog's been much like everything else, I stagnate for fear of failure. If I don't start it, it can never suck as much as the 2005 Raiders, Titans and Vols combined.
Sooooo, starting this means I need to commit to it and try to at least entertain myself, if not the faceless billions who will likely never come in contact with it.
If you found this blog as a random surf or because you know me and I hounded and nagged you into checking it out because I needed constant encouragement and feedback, I say with a warm cyber embrace and a few noogies, "Welcome, pardners.!"
Let the squirrel wrangling begin.