My fellow Americans, we as a nation are faced with a vague and overhyped threat, which can only be met by overwhelming government activity, and which requires that we sacrifice money, lives, basic freedoms, and our future. And when I say “we”, I mean “you”.
Sorry, wrong speech. Start again.
So it has been almost a year and half on Grubb Street, and, as noted earlier, I have done a little light dusting in the blog. Most noticeable is the handsome mug that occupies the upper right corner, but I have also expanded the blogroll to represent a lot of people that I check out on a semi-regular basis. Of course, in the process, I am still trying to figure out what this journal is about.
I write about politics, but I would hesitate to call this a political journal. I lack the killer instinct that seems to be necessary to clamp onto an issue and worry it like a rat terrier with its rodential prey. Also, while I am not above picking on the current Administration in Washington (and let’s face it, it is a target-rich environment), I am more interested in the local levels, which are more comprehensible to me. I also don’t scream nearly enough. I fear that these obvious weaknesses make me unsuitable for cable news shows.
I write reviews, but this isn’t really a review journal. In addition to not be nearly snarky-cool enough, I tend to use reviews as a springboard into other matters, which is both more and less than what a review is about. And I tend to recommend things I like, pan only the worst of the worst, and leave the rest in the middle, uncommented-upon.
I suppose that this could be an essay journal, though some of the essays are very very short. And it could be a promotional blog, though again, I usually talk about my work en route to talking about other things. And it could be a humor journal, except I’m not always that funny. And one thing it is not is an Award-Winning Journal, if for no other reason than it doesn’t really fit into any handy categories.
And I write about my life, but I wouldn’t quite call this a personal journal, either. You don’t get every dream or health update or what I had for lunch (and if I ever start writing about what I had for lunch, you have my permission to come to my house and get me roaring drunk). I just pass on the interesting parts.
On the other hand, I have found that I have been more active in real life because of the existence of this journal. I will do things (Go to an Alton Brown reading, finish a novel, be an extra in a movie) because the experience has the chance of being reported and shared. So, in the end, I guess, it IS all about me. I’m good with that.
And with the previous statement in mind, I have chosen neither to enable comments nor to put a traffic tracker on the site. I have my feedback mechanism over to the right, and I’m comfortable with that level of response. I suppose I need a mail policy. Hmmm. How about this: “All mail sent to Grubb Street becomes property of Grubb Street, and may be reproduced, edited, and revised with an eye towards clarity, accuracy, and mockery. Those with their own version of the truth are encouraged to get their own online journals.”
Yeah, that sounds about right. Goodnight America.
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