Sound of the Union

Where dipsy-doodle infomercial jingles used to comprise the gleeful soundtrack of the life of one Luke Reeves, now only somber, minor melodies full my ears and heart. Other than Senior Editing this fine publication, the Blahg's Senior Editor is currently unemployed. Cross your fingers, Blahg-lievers, because soon our influence may extend to BlueBell Creameries (pending urinalysis).

Transition

I'm thankful for my 1991 Dyno trick bike. It's old and rusty. Neither the front nor rear brakes work. Sounds emitted from the chassis while in motion tug on one's heart-strings as they almost perfectly imitate a ground squirrel meeting its maker in the form of an unexpected dump-truck tire. Still its probably good for someone to remind me (even if that someone is a bike) that I'm not too cool for school. Just as long as school doesn't know that.





Transition

In my last post I ranted about the inappropriateness of the Stockton/Malone to Williams/Boozer comparisons. I propose a more accurate one. Deron Williams and Carlos Boozer are analogous to Michael Jordan and Kevin Bacon of those painful Hanes commercials.


Final Transition

The reason for the current lack of regularity in posting is two-fold: out of Metamucil, and in the process of moving. This sentence is the replacement of a long, poorly crafted attempt at humor, so at the same time-sorry and you're welcome. Adios Blahg-lievers. Spread the word.