One of the reasons I feel relatively comfortable meeting other bloggers, is that I am under the assumption — and this theory requires a leap of faith which requires that I accept the innate goodness of man — that if an individual can tie words together and make a sentence that communicates a thought, image, or sensation, it means that he has adequate control over his mental faculties, and that he is not crazy, or at least not dangerous, or at least medicated enough to be acceptable to society, but not medicated too much where he just stares at the monitor like a drooling zombie from the Dawn of the Dead.
I make this announcement, presenting it to all you, my dear colleagues on the blogosphere — fellow writers, satirists, and raconteurs — in case you ever read anything I write, and loudly say to yourself, or to whoever is nearby in your office cubicle or home kitchen, “Holy shit, this guy is f**king nuts!” (editors note: Although if you have children doing their algebra homework at the kitchen table, you probably won’t be say “f**king nuts!” but “completely nuts!” out of respect for raising your children in a manner deemed appropriate to mannered society).
Whether you say “nuts” with or without the “f**king,” my response to you, virtual friend, is the same — please, for the love of goodness and sunny days, don’t worry about me. If I am writing, and the paragraphs align and the verbs and nouns seem happy together, sidling together like two canoes floating down the river, or like two young lovers reaching in anticipation for that moment of first pleasure, be assured that things are going well enough in my life that I can successfully accomplish that achievement.
Only worry about me when I am not writing. That means