Oh, crud

I went over a month...I did not return.

I thought it might be difficult to keep this vow of shutting up. Strangely, the gods intervened. The computer gods. I have a flying frog which protects my computer. (From Indonesia--scares away evil spirits...very fierce face)...

In any case, flying frog killed my at home internet access. You may think this a bad thing. It seems to be turning out to be a good thing.

Now I know: I do not need the internet! Hah! I can live a happy life without it.

There was some crap today or yesterday in the paper about this whole internet diary spill-your-guts phenomenon. I realized that no one I knows spills their guts. Who are these gut spillers? Terrible things happen to them. They are left by their loved ones, upbraided by parents, fired from jobs.

They told--the truth.

Remember the Gilligan's Island episode where everyone ate some kind of plant and they could read each others' minds? All sorts of disturbing things ensued. They did not have the kindliest thoughts towards one another. Alas, these gut-spilling bloggers did not see that episode. Or perhaps they forgot it.

Don't tell the truth.

One thing which always confused me about that episode is that I would imagine if someone read my mind it would be a garbled mass of feedback sounds with very few unfinished sentences. Sort of like the language aliens speak in 1950s movies.

Still, I did always wish I could read the minds of others. Knowledge is power and all that.

I am sure I am identifiable in some way shape or form. Although I make everything up here I realize that coincidental details for a sharp eye will be seen as no coincidence. The mere fact I write one of these is humiliating enough--or would be. Were it to come to light.)

I did write some crap over the interval that might be mildly entertaining to someone stuck in a cinderblock jail cell in the county stir whose library contained only 4 Reader's Digest condensed books and the Bible. But not someone with internet access.

For the internet is a wild land filled with mystery and excitement. Who can compete with that? Not I.

I'm sure it is a fair assumption that anyone who might read this blather also has internet access? What are my thoughts compared to the constant fever of invention now accessible in most middle class homes?

Sometime though I'll stick it up here...Cause what the hell.