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The Treachery of Content, or, Ceci N'est Pas Une Blog
There are lots of things I should post about, but I am at that BLISSFUL stage of revisions where most of my thoughts are occupied with stories I do not have time to write at the moment. It's kind of a sad comment on how apt I am to use my imagination as an avoidance strategy when it becomes a strategy for avoiding using my imagination.
In the spirit of feeling scattered and insane, I give you this poll:
[Poll #1211564]
In the spirit of feeling scattered and insane, I give you this poll:
[Poll #1211564]
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I'm just going to pretend I grew up in the 50s.
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I may be particularly dense right now.
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I'm going to go ahead and blame the 80s, and then neither of us has to get the blame. Good plan?
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I blame all of my personality flaws on the '80s (and Catholicism), so that works.
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never fear that this still made me laugh, but I am not laughing AT your lack of coherence.
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Fry and Laurie and Rik Mayall were all pretty good. And yeah, the Queen and Nursie, pretty consistently funny. But I was tired of Blackadder himself halfway through the first series.
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*gasp* I forgot about that.
I think I need to be alone now.
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Also, interleague play is so pointless. As of last night, the Royals had the best interleague record. The Royals. When does the National League say, "Crap, we cannot beat the Royals, we should go get some ringers from a kindergarten T-ball league?" I think it's now, frankly. I think now is the time.
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No, that can't be it.
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