I woke up this morning feeling like last night’s 6 o’clock news: Local and full of fail. I don’t expect much, but does it really take over a minute to plug in an anchor’s microphone? Didn’t you have an entire day to prepare for the news? It’s okay, I forgive you, as I forgive myself for being so impatient.
Anyhow, as I dragged my sorry ass to work I pondered my mundane existence as a “soccer dad.” Granted, my sons are not old enough to play soccer, but it’s just a matter of time. Feeling like I was going nowhere, I wondered if anybody would miss me should my Yaris drive off a cliff? Then I remembered that I live in Central Illinois and there isn’t a damned cliff around for miles. Oh what could possibly save me from this so-called life?
Perhaps a message over Facebook from my good friend Kang, who was lamenting that nobody ever blogs like we used to. For shame! A few messages later we had our merry band of rogues, pirates and fly-by-night bloggers assembled: the few good men (and women!), the dream team, the forgotten, prideful, and borderline psychotic people who can think of nothing better to do than blog. And blog we shall do… The SHARK is back!