A Blogger’s Lament

Why can’t anything exciting happen around here?

I’ll I’m asking is for one really interesting thing to occur. Something with the potential for hilarious commentary. I’m not talking about the war in Iraq. It’s depressing. I’m not talking about the Michael Jackson trial. That’s a morose circus. Like watching triple amputees try to put together a high wire act. Sure, it’s entertaining for a little while but eventually dread sets in when you realize that no matter what the outcome, it’s not going to make anyone whole.

I can’t talk about the picture of Saddam Hussein in his skivvies that has been plastered on the cover of the SUN. I’ve already vented my spleen at Newsweek. Besides, it’s not like Saddam is a God or anything. He’s just a dude who happened to be the supreme dictator of his own country. Just a guy who must now fold his own pants. Who has to wash his own clothes. It makes me feel a little sorry for him. And I don’t want to feel sorry for Saddam Hussein. He was a dick. And still is I’ll bet. After all he has to wash and fold his own clothes now.

I don’t want to talk about Star Wars. I haven’t seen it. And it’ll probably be while before I do. I have to let the crowds die down. And by then, it will be old news. I can’t stand going to the movie theatres anymore. They’re awful. But I also don’t want to patronize the jerks selling pirated copies of the film just so I can watch it in the privacy of my own home. I’m a firm believer in intellectual property. I’m also a firm believer in oceanfront property. Probably because I own neither.

All I’m asking for is something really great to happen. Is that too much to ask? Something where no one gets killed or kidnapped or kidnapped an then killed. But the news isn’t helping. Nothing but dead people, or dead people’s mourning families. Missing children or the people who took them. And then there’s the rest of the “news.” Fluff stories about makeovers or fashions or fulfilling some cancer-surviving housewife’s lifelong dream of drinking Arnold Palmers with Arnold Palmer while getting a pedicure on the back of a monster truck being driven by a rock star.

Where is the irony? Where is the blatant stupidity? I’m sure I could find it if I looked hard enough. But who has the time? It’s hard to sift through all of the stupid crap to find something innocently idiotic. I have a life you know.

Unfortunately, that too is excruciatingly boring half the time. And the other half of the time, I’m just too lazy to write about it.

So why am I complaining? Maybe it’s because I’m bored? Maybe it’s because I’m a malcontent? Maybe it’s because I’m treading water here.

Mostly it’s because it’s what bloggers do. And I am a blogger. A whiny, whiny blogger with nothing to say but nothing.

And you’re the weirdo that read every word of it.


Fun Fact: I’m auditioning for a play on Saturday. I haven’t auditioned for a play in quite a while. Wish me luck!

Come on…wish me luck. I need it. I crave it. Tell me to “break a leg.” Make it insanely funny and tell me to break both. Please?

I’m sorry I called you a weirdo.

And the latest TAM cartoon is up! Boredsational!


Weirdo.