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If you haven’t heard through other channels, I’ve pulled up stakes. Despair not, however. I’m still doing what I do … just doing it over here now. Swing by sometime.

If you may remember, it’s been just about exactly one year since I became fate’s bitch. During the intervening months, I’ve also become fate’s cohabitant, then fate’s registered domestic partner … which is to say fate and I have become quite close.

It has been a year of varied fortunes, to be sure, but one of the unwavering things I’ve had the great good fortune to enjoy throughout has been the love and support of the one so dear to me. These are for you, Dede. Happy yeariversary.

(If you like, get the playlist here. Number 3 is the song that came on the radio as I drove home from date one … permagrin may have been involved.)

Okay, I’m not really going to attempt to explain how/why the “heart-warming” “family” “drama” 7th Heaven ran for 11 … yes, you read right … 11 seasons. I could sooner deliver a five-minute introduction to nuclear fission than fathom the appeal of that show. Literally. I’m speaking literally here. Nuclear fission. Five minutes.

No, no. The title of this post is:

  1. an attempt at pop-culturally based humor gone terribly awry, due to both the length of time that has elapsed since the show was canceled and the overwhelming apathy said cancellation aroused in the TV-viewing populace, both in 2007 and since
  2. a reference to my rather sudden, enigmatic, perhaps—in certain quarters—lamented, 194-day absence from CMG Unite
  3. a little from column A and a little from column B, as “Dylan,” henceforth referred to as “Dede” (in keeping with the site’s infantile, duo-syllabic nicknaming convention), would say

Well, as much as Dede would have you all believe that his elephantine cock is the sole cause for my break from blogging, the reasons are myriad. I’ll get into all that in future posts. For now, the facts are these:

  • I am alive.
  • I am, once again, committed … more or less … to the unreliable posting of inconsistent quality and questionable social value.
  • I have not lost my dry, incisive wit or my immense, nay, frighteningly HUGE capacity for humility.

In the days and weeks to come, you can look forward to detailed accounts of “The Missing Days,” as I will pretentiously refer to them. In the works are: The Pros and Cons of Growing Out Your Bush, … okay, that’s all I’ve got so far. Stay tuned anyway. Please?

The preceding is:

  1. a flop of a re-entry post due to its mediocre title and general lack of “sizzle”
  2. a pathetic and thinly veiled effort to both court attention and shun it
  3. Why, oh, why must there always be a C?

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