I haven't posted anything, but that doesn't mean I haven't had thoughts. I have. They pretty much all fall into three, self-explanatory categories:
1. Fuck!
2. Whatever.
3. Fuckin' whatever, man.
Two other things of note. The only thing I hate worse than jazz is folk music, and PBS better come up with programs about something or someone other than the Mamas and the Papas and John Denver or I'm writing public television out of my will. I don't want to watch any more Bob Dylan shows either. That guy comes off as so big a jackass that it makes me want to hit him over the head with his guitar, accoustic or electric, whichever's handier.
Go read WritingGal for a substitute one-year anniversary post. I can't be bothered.
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