Break On Through to the Other Side
Well, I’d been contemplating continuing The Storied Origins of Central Dispatch, but thinking, does anyone really care at this point? Most of my current colleagues weren’t around then, and maybe those who were would rather forget about it. (Anyone who knows me at all well knows that I’m prone to brooding. “And sulking! Don’t forget the sulking!” I imagine Rom saying.) Then I noticed the blog had a new comment. Odd, I thought–it’s someone I don’t know. Odder still–she’s commenting on a very old post. Idly, I glanced at the Bar Graph o’Stats at the top of the page. Now, normally when I hover over it, it says something like 14 people visited the site, as it did last night. 20-23 on a good day. Today it said 174. That can’t be right, I thought, and switched over to the real-time display. And it wasn’t right. It was up to 343. By mid-afternoon, it was 350. I checked a few minutes ago, and it’s 363. So I’m now literally an Overnight Success! Canada, the United Kingdom, Ireland, Australia, and Finland all represented! I extend an over-enthusiastic welcome to all of you. I’m feeling positively giddy, and wish I could give all of you a big hug! (“Don’t! I’ll shoot if I have to!” says Nick, who is feeling a bit giddy himself, having gotten a perfect score on his firearms qualification.) World domination is becoming more and more feasible! At the risk of wasting more of your time, I encourage you to explore the archives, which will enable you to make sense (well, more sense, anyway) of what I’m talking about here, since this blog doesn’t have a “topic” in the normally-understood sense.
I’m feeling too scatterbrained to offer any type of sustained content right now, but instead of just dissolving into a puddle of autistic inertia, how about if I give you some scattered observations:
–What could be better than sending an officer to investigate a subject dancing in the street wearing a cape? The officer wearily sent me a message, “Last week it was Batman.” Batman, na na na na, etc.
Oh, and how about a game? Let’s play Street Name Challenge:
Often a 911 caller, asked if they know the name of a suspect, will say, “I only know him by the street name of–” fill in the blank–Punkinhead, Puddin Tane, Stinky, etc. Now, it is a general rule that you don’t get to choose your own street name–at least, I assume that no one would willingly be called Stinky. (Although, since people get tattoos saying Thug Life, you can’t be sure–I never thought being a thug was an actual aspiration. I figured thugging was just something you blundered into, kind of like my career in government service.) I know I’d rather be called Cobra Rose (a name I actually use in a couple of online groups) than Powder Fresh. But anyway, in the spirit of Eminem calling himself Slim Shady (or calling himself Eminem, for that matter), or Rabecca calling herself Foxy Lady, I hereby, by the authority vested in me as World Leader, allow any of you to choose your own street name! Let us know what you pick! Make it as self-aggrandizing as you like–hey, we’re all anonymous here! I promise to call you by it if you’re a recurring character here, unless I come up with something I like better. (This is known as the Blog Owner’s Prerogative. Eventually, every person on earth will have a blog, so this will be a democracy. That is, unless the BabyCorn/UnionSuit Conspiracy gets underway.) (By the way, the cans of baby corn deployed against me were Dynasty brand. Think of it! A dynasty of baby corn! OK, don’t think of it. But don’t say you weren’t warned.)