the executive gist

I just fed my cats, hurrah for me, I know. But really it's not that big of deal, cats have to eat, or just like any other animal, and even humans, they'll die. So I feel a bit silly making a big deal about it. So, anywho, I thought you avid readers of random blogs might like to know a little bit about myself. So, here goes:

I am not a park ranger. I don't spend all my time shuffling through the woods and grinding discovered berries into a fine paste for some hypethetical "Uncle Linus's Best Darned Mystery Jelly Super Stuff", nor do I condone senseless murder. I think you should think about me while you learn a musical instrument. I don't tear through magazines searching for the perfume samples and then feast on the bounty. I could not beat a lion in a fight. I don't understand "complex issues". Actually, I'm really freaking modest. It might be the most impressive personality trait you'll ever encounter. I don't construct basketball goals from ceiling fan parts and dominate the post in three on three basketball tournaments comprised of myself and some ironically old child-star and the sickest kids local hospitals have to offer. Nor do I fashion an elaborate trophy from sugary foodstuffs and devour it after the championship game right in front of the hungry faces of my opponents and teammates. I have a "cell phone". As ridiculous as it might sound, even if I had gills I probably wouldn't live in a giant aquarium. I concede I might visit one. I've never been fond of a "good jabbing". I could live without a rocket car, I've been doing it all my life. I refuse to reveal even the slightest portion of a detail from my life that could, by the most twisted turns of thought through the darkest mind, be construed as even remotely embarrassing. I'd pick the cat hair from a piece of pizza and pretend I didn't see that flake of litter on the crust.* I don't belong to a gym, but you'd be surprised just how obvious it is, I mean, I said it just before the first comma in this sentence. When guests arrive I don't swab them with house paint and declare them a masterpiece before admonishing them for their taste in grapefruit. I'm not sure I'd make it as a cowboy, and frankly I don't want to try. I might be inclined to "jive" "the night away" or whatever the poets are calling it. I think lemonade smells fine.

* I wouldn't really eat such a tainted slice, I'm actually quite fastidious about my food.

The Second Part of This post

Let's adjourn to the darkest recesses of that terrible castle with bricks of bone mortared with blood and shit, buried in the thick liquid fire of our earth's core and talk* about politics: I'm a fan. So you'd do well to adopt my stances as we traipse through the likely limb-shattering minefield of "issues". Issues: I'm not a fan. That was a joke. Of course I like issues, it's what we're here to talk** about. I'm firmly on the side of owning pets. I think immigration is overrated. I think this platform would make me a candidate to get behind, though not in a literal sense as I get a bit uncomfortable when someone's standing over my back. But let's not get ahead of ourselves, I'm not qualified to be president, I can admit that. Of course, sometimes the voice of the people becomes an earth-encompassing thunder-storm, in which case even the most "dangerously unqualified" person has no choice but to listen, as ignoring the storm would only lead to becoming very wet and possibly Thunderstruck! The presidential election is in November 2008 so I would have to get started with my campaign (or "cam-pain" really, right?) by late summer, or October if I really needed more time to get my stuff together. And even then my chances would be slim. Yeah, seriously. It takes a lot of effort to get elected. You can't just drink your way through college and enlist a professional baseball team as henchmen in a needless-to-say-diabolical coup on the margarine industry. A president has to be able to look into the presidential looking-glass***, which in itself is pretty easy because it's just a looking glass in a conveniently located and smallish room in the white House. I'd say being president offers a bounty not worth the price more than any other occupation, but that's simply not true, far from it.

*I can't actually hear you.
**I can't actually hear you.
***A device whose origins are rumoured to be the calloused thorns of the devil's hands, and which is capable of seeing deep into the future and rendering the decision process easy and, because the glorious outcomes of all decisions are known, infallible.

Final words: regional, fastidious, and purple