Thursday, February 10, 2005

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HABITS

Somebody the other day got me thinking about my blogroll. I forget who it was. Velocidude? I'm not sure. Anyhow, I started looking at the list of blogs that I read every day and it got me thinking about how they change... evolve maybe is the better word... and how I go along with that flow.

I tend to start at the top and go down. Rachel, then Rambling Journal. I like him cause he seems to work at it. I mean, he's a pro and seems to be on a timetable. It's as if he is a man with a plan and is working towards something every day. That's good. A man with an agenda. Then the lunacy of Velociworld. What makes that guy humm is the fact that I own a Velocity aircraft. A very, very quick push style canard screaming sky buggy. Just the kind of thing for the ghost of Jacksonville. I know that doesn't make much sense, but then, it doesn't have to. What impresses me about this guy is how he seems to sustain that foolishness while delivering surprisingly good content. That stuff about the grey brick walls of Charleston was very subtle and insightful. Nice attention to detail, that.

Next, an enigma: Smoke of the Water. Does anybody know what happened to Jim? He was taking a break before. Suffering angst or some bullshit like that and then he was back at the first of the year and all was well... and then poof. Gone. I'm left with the feeling that maybe he was burning out on all the red state/ blue state intensity of the campaign and all the anger of dealing with those pesky Democrats who didn't seem to see things like he thought they should. Hell, we must be all headed for hell in a handbasket. Sigh.

At the heart of the morning show is Gutrumbles. That's a guy who gets up and works at being everybody's blogfadda. He's like the picture child of ADHD. You open up your copy of the DSM-IV and you see a thumbnail picture of Rob inside the cover.Under "Oppositional Defiance and You". Or maybe it was one of those stilted descriptions of frottage. I'm not sure.

The Dax Files are a way to decompress from massive doses of Triliptal prescribed by the detox mavens at Lakeside Alternatives brought in to deal with Gutrumbles. What we all grew up into when we decided to give up the prescription drugs and got regular jobs. Sure he's redneck and misanthropic, but that's the nicest hat they sell at the Army Navy Store in Yalaha.

Right about there I usually sign off because the system at work has some sort of porno filter to tell me that it's against policy to look at pictures of naked boobies that might appear on Kim du Toit's blog. Actually, that happens only about once a week when Kim can't think of anything to rant about. I mean, how many times can you get out your NRA membership card and swear fealty to the 2nd Amendment? Yeah, bring on the boobs.

Anyhow, that's the top of the list. When I get back to the boat and I'm warming up the laptop I go through the rest. They consist of three categories: First,the watershed ones... Baldilocks is to reassure me that girls with brains can still look good in uniform, and real uniform folks like Blackfive and Armour Gedden are out there fighting the good fight. Second, the brain trust... Belmont Club, SWG, Volokh, Instapundit, Alice in Texas. Those guys represent homework. They're my replacement for MSM. Brainfood. And third, and perhaps most important... the exit strategy. Something has to put a period on the end of the day's sentence. Key, Snugg Harbor (am I the only one who has trouble getting that damned thing to load? Whazzup man?), Cheese, Curmudgeonry... then Origin of Soul. All that youthful energy. I remember when I chased (and caught) girls like that in my dissipated youth. Ah, the good old days of twisting fatties and mixing up Vodka Bombs in the basement of the KA house on University Row in Gainesville. Go Gators!

Finally, a nightcap of Day by Day. I love that guy. Then Rube for a closer. An ex-pat in the land of Amadeus. Makes very, very nice pictures too. An artist.

Tomorrow, another recursion. How about you? Do I fit into anybody's daily drill? I hope so.

Bob