Allow me a brief moment of self-congratulatory enthusiasm if you would: today is the third anniversary of this wonderful site. How things have changed since then. In those heady days of early 2002 we were a nation newly at war, I was a man with very little to say.
Maybe things haven’t changed so much.
Just think, in three short years this place has gone from being hosted and linked to an ISP’s granted webspace to being hosted and controlled on its own site. It’s gone through innumerable stylistic changes to the point where I honestly don’t remember what it looked like to begin with. It’s gone from two blogs: one politics, one your typical mumbly jumbly, to whatever mishmashy sort of mess it is today.
Best of all, you occassionally get longer, more coherent posts.
At least when I’ve not been drinking.
So, happy anniversary to my little home on the web. I’d have lots more to say but it’s been such a day that I didn’t even get to read my comics until nearly five o’clock this afternoon. And, yet again, I made a wonderful road trip and never took the damned camera out of the bag. And the great pity is I saw actual hippies actually singing! And I saw John Lennon’s bloodstains on the sidewalk!
OK, neither one of those things is one-hundred percent accurate but there was an eedjit with an acoustic guitar strumming Beatles songs in Imagine circle, which is just west of Strawberry Fields, which is just east of the Dakota where Lennon was shot.
John Lennon, that is. Not Vladimir Ilich. You know, the one who did sing “I Am the Walrus.”
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