Or will it... It is a curious thing down to write with absolutely no pre-determined topic upon which to build. The experience might be described as being akin to building a house made of jello. Or perhaps not. After all the simple act of choosing a building material no matter how unlikely immediately creates a structure, albeit a jiggly one, which is a hundred percent more structure than we possess going into this particular blog entry. The peculiar thing about this exercise is that there is as little reason for it as there is topic to support it. After all there is no global shortage of topics. No crash in the topics market has writers flinging themselves from the windows of their publishing houses. Quite the opposite there are a wealth of meaningful, poignant and inspiring topics one might touch upon. Hot button issues like the President's birth certificate, the exsanguination of big cats, winning, and whether Donald Trump's hair is toupee, plugs, or tribble are only a few of the issues one could begin to address. But why be boxed in? Not that there's anything wrong with boxes. Quite the contrary boxes are awesome. Some of my fondest memories involve boxes. Christmas morning, the countless forts built, the excitement of packing for freshman year. And let's not forget the great advances in science made possible by the box. Why I myself have built no less than half a dozen spacecraft using only boxes and where would society be today without the advent of the transmorgifier. In fact were it not for the transmorgifier, and by extension the box used to create it, the aforementioned exsanguination of big cats would most certainly have wiped out the world's population of tigers. But despite the appeal of boxes there is something to be said for being outside of one. After all we don't leave the Christmas presents in the boxes, and sooner or later you have to unpack the boxes when you move in. And let's not forget that the view from inside the box is nothing to write home about. But I'm getting off track. Well not really; more like getting on track and that simply won't do. So it is here that we will part ways before my use of rhetoric to disguise a lack of content becomes a form of content in it's own right.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Friday, April 8, 2011
Recently (ok so it was almost a month ago) I was visited by my fairy blog mother who suggested that I tackle the issue of _____'s; or more accurately why it seems to be all but impossible for us to simply call a _____ a _____. After all no one seems to have any trouble with calling a _____ a shovel so why is _____ so hard to get out? After a great deal of careful research (that is to say about five minutes of casual consideration) I have determined that the issue at hand is the result of film's influence on the collective consciousness of humanity. Or more accurately the singular influence of a particularly epic film. The year was 1941 and into the office of a private detective walked a exceptionally lovely dame who went by the name of Miss Ruth Wonderly. The detective's name was Sam Spade and he would go down in history as the first and definitive archetype of the film noir anti-hero. But how does this play into the issue of calling a _____ a _____? The answer is that Sam Spade has made such a profound and indelible mark on the fabric of our cultural psyche that we have become unable to associate the name held by one of the greatest icons of film with something so mundane; so base as a _____. There simply cannot be any _____ but Sam Spade. Anything else is just a shovel.
Posted by B
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Due to technical difficulties tonight's scheduled blog will be posted in the early am hours tomorrow. We apologize for the inconvenience but we simply could not in good Jiminy Cricket post the blog without some features the phone this is being written on does not want to support right now even though it is supposed to support said features. But have no fear it will be worth the price of admission; especially since this whole blog thing is free.
Posted by B