Yet ANOTHER Day in the Life of THE Michael

Ahhhh....what to post? This statement is fair warning of what's to come. I'm starting off with a blank brain, which means even as I type this sentence, my cerebral cortex is frantically attempting to fire off the right neurons in the proper order, which is sure to doom the content of this post. However, since past performance is no guarantee of future brilliance, I would not get my hopes up if I were you, already salivating at the prospect that this introduction I have crafted is going to lead you into an epiphany. Already I am being hindered by a sense of overwhelming foreboding and utter hopelessness, so I will stop this now and take a nice hot bath with the witch, I mean the wife. Hopefully I will return with a refreshed psyche and the usual inspiration to save this post from the annals of mediocrity.

Ok, I'm back, but the wife has maneuvered me into grilling the chicken, so you're just going to have to wait in breathless anticipation for the award winning post you are about to be blessed with.

A brief reprieve; the grill plates for the chicken masher and burner had to be washed, so I have some time to continue with this.......
Suddenly I'm picturing a certain author writing, "It was the best of times, it was the......", when suddenly behind him, "Honey, will you come and kill this roach on the ceiling?!" Please tell me he was married and had to struggle thru the same interference I am right now........

Today both the wife and I had the day off, so........oh crap, it suddenly occurred to me that the goats are still tied out in the front yard......I'll be right back.

Good thing I reminded me that they were still out there; poor things were all tangled up as only goats know how to do and it was beginning to drizzle. These are the kinds of rains that happen only because you fine folks up north send waves of your cold air down our way into our nice warm air producing rain. Boy, this J.W. Dundee's Original Honey Brown honey flavored lager sure is good. Where was I?

As I was.......damn, what WAS I saying? Oh, you guys I'm sure have partaken of the occasional off-the-wall distraction such as The Rocky Horror Picture Show and other cult mind fucks, well, just on a lark, I rented, ala Netflix, the cult not-so-classic, Hedwig and the Angry Inch. I expected something so avant-garde I would hit the stop button within 5 minutes, but both of us were so spell bound from the get-go we didn't even take very many potty breaks. Now, I'm not exactly a connoisseur of fine homocentric musicals, but having evolved beyond redneck stage I easily followed the story line and was downright effected by the music and lyrics in this movie. There is one song, "The Origin of Love", that flat can only be described as beautiful, even if it was sung by a failed transsexual East German Goth cum comedian with downright awful wigs. Trust me on this, just about anybody that tends to get thru my blog without going "Huh?" would enjoy the hell out of this movie, except maybe for Buffalo, who would probably take the whole movie personally and go after anybody even remotely connected to filming it. But then again, I could be wrong.

Somebody made the observation that I and one other, or was that two, bloggers have this remarkable ability to blog about absolutely nothing. This is not an original concept, I'm afraid, for Jerry Seinfield and his gang of morally corrupt but otherwise lovable friends beat us all to that. However, you must understand that since we are not privy to anything earth-shattering on the world stage other than what we glean off of television, radio, and internet, anything we might report to you is already second hand news, analyzed to death by teams of experts that are actually paid to explain things to us on the assumption that we do not, as common citizens, understand the ramifications of presidential blow jobs. However, as common folk, we do have a unique insight into the day-to-day things that happen around us that most people take so utterly for granted that they have long past filed such occurrences away with breathing, farting, and shopping at Walmart. We, as amateur pontificators of the obvious but invisible, craftily take these common occurrences and dress them up like a republican tax cut and present them to you as something they never were and never, ever should be seen as. It takes balls to do this, folks, because as you well know, we risk being accused of wasting your time with posts that, like she said, amount to absolutely nothing.

Well, let me tell you, my wife has already made numerous attempts to distract me away from writing this, under the guise of wanting attention from me, when, in reality, she actually DOES want more attention from me. My fellow Americans and Iranians, Chinese, and North Korean citizens risking death by accessing the internet, I am not about to be nagged into denying you, my readers, the kind of outstanding faux literature that you, the fantastic fans of MM&M have come to expect! Nope, she might not appreciate the fact that my fingertips right now are stroking this keyboard and not HER, but I will defend to my DEATH my right to blog, so help me BOB!

By now, it has occurred to you, dear readers, that this follow up to that last blog that drew such acclaim in no way measures up to the previous. I hate to be the one to tell you this, if you don't already know, but sequels rarely approach the genius of the original. Yes, I know, Harry Potter is avoiding this pitfall, but then again, Rawlings is either a witch or has a pact with the devil, that is, if she believes in him, and if not, then I'm sure it must be THE Donald. So, I hereby avoid any responsibility for having disappointed you, in much the same way the American public has avoided responsibility for voting the way they do.

Any minute now, the dishwasher is going to complete it's cycle and force me to leave this keyboard again, so I might as well end your suffering. I know you cannot force yourself to stop reading this while you're ahead, so I will end it for you, cause I'm that kind of guy, THE Michael, that lovable miscreant you have all come to love, admire, and wish would please, please, stop writing before you plunge that steak knife into your eyeball. And, to quote another famous personality who actually does something worthwhile with his blog, "THAT would be a BAD thing."