I thought about posting a story about Abe Vigoda.

Then that didn’t quite work out.

There has to be a story about the fact that I can’t think about anything to write about.  Then I recalled that I often criticize others for writing about their inability to find something to write about.  If you’ve visited this blog, you no doubt are aware by now that the aforementioned affliction is simply an observation of myself, I have absolutely nothing to say and remain in a constant state of having absolutely nothing of relevance to offer at any time.

Then I got bored with that view.

For a fleeting moment I felt a great idea sweep over me.

Then it left along with my youth to go and have a beer laughing about the way I envisioned that things used to be.

They weren’t that way – but it remained fun to think that they were.

I thought for a moment about creating a weekly feature that simply highlighted some of the random observations I’d made of the world surrounding me each week.

Then I thought about all the other regular features I’d thought about over the past year or so and started, yet let die a slow withering painful death.  So I said, once again, fuck it.

Nope. I actually realized this morning that this particular blog has totally lost its way.  Trying hard to remain relevant in the world of blogdom yet losing sight of the point of it all.  This particular blog is completely irrelevant – and not at all worthy of your time.  Or mine for that matter, yet I carry on.

So it’s time for a new direction, most likely one I’ll veer tragically off course of within a couple of weeks.

But for now – I thought it might be fun to welcome you into my more typical style of presenting myself.  In a rambling stream of consciousness, a veritable rant of mind stew.  It is frankly how I was able to earn two Oscars, a Pulitzer, and three People’s Choice Awards.  I thought a couple of years ago when I started the character Bonehead that it might be a hoot to offer essays that featured a slanted observation of everyday stupidity – then I sort of lost my job and started promoting this humble blog as a sort of outlet for my twisted views of reality.  And it also helped drive me deep into fits of boredom and complacency from time to time, which when interjected into my actual realities often resulted in extended periods of misery and woe.

Did you ever notice that most people enjoy the songs put out by The Black Eyed Peas?  The lyrics of most all of their songs however, suck ass.  In reality – their songs are put out to feature the beat and the melody of the music, the lyrics are completely irrelevant.  So as much as I cringe when I hear a Black Eyed Peas song on the radio – I must still respect the fact that their irrelevance and mine are similar.

We all put an unsubstantiated value on entertainment.  Don’t agree?  Why else then would all of our celebrities and pro athletes take in so much cash for simply being a means to our escape?

They’re doing the things most of us wish we could do but can’t.  That’s why.

Oh!

Did I tell you that last week my lovely wife called and told me that she had done all the shopping from our local wholesale club, you know the place where you have to buy all of your assorted sundries and snacks in 55 gallon drums.  Anyway, I was thrilled because I absolutely hate shopping – and she absolves me of this responsibility on a regular basis.  It’s one of the many reasons why I love her, well, that and her enormous fun bags.  Anyway, she had forgotten kibbles for Sydney and the poor dog was just about out, so I had to stop by the Stop and Shop to pick up a large bag of dog food for our hungry houseguest, dog.   So, after a long day at work I’m in a ridiculously long express checkout line with a big green bag of dog food perched uncomfortably on my shoulder.  The intrusive woman behind me asked if I had a dog.

No shit Madge, what did she think I had an elephant?  So since I’m already flustered having to be in a food store when all I want to do is get home, get out of my expensive fashionable Armani suit and grab a beer, I decided to fuck with the poor old woman. So I answered her query with a polite “no, I don’t have a dog, I was starting the Iams Diet again”.   I added that I probably shouldn’t, because I ended up in the hospital last time, but that I’d lost 50 pounds before I awakened in an intensive care ward with tubes coming out of most of my orifices and IVs in both arms.

I told her that it was essentially a perfect diet and that the way that it works is to load your pants pockets with Iams dog nuggets and simply eat one or two every time you feel hungry. The food is nutritionally complete so it works well and I was going to try it again. By now, practically everyone in line was now enthralled with my story.

Horrified, she asked if I ended up in intensive care because the dog food poisoned me. I told her no, I stepped off a curb to sniff an Irish Setter’s ass and a car hit us both.

Alright.  Weak.  I know.  But I’m pretty sure Abe Vigoda would love the story!