"Top of the morning to ye on this gray, grizzly afternoon. Kent O'Brockman here, live on Main Street, where today everyone is a little bit Irish, except, of course, for the gays and the Italians."
Kent Brockman
For most people I’m sure it was an accordingly messy day commemorating Ireland’s patron saint. God bless you all! Unfortunately I was not able to contribute to the flowing rivers of blood and green vomit this year. Earnestly putting in my hours at the fatherhood trade was I, and it’s worth every second. I’m apprehensive about letting this site transform into a cutesy, egocentric testament to Elise’s affect on our lives. Although the agenda of the blog may be vague there are some unwritten rules that govern its output (no half ass political analyses, no arrogant opinions on matters partially researched, no disclosure of these unwritten rules... oops) but it’s hard to pretend that life will ever be the same again and it is wrong, selfish and even shameful to suppress such delight for the sake of obsessively-compulsively adhering to such daft constraints. Inhibiting any form of organic behavior inevitably leads to problems. Try and kill a worm by chopping him in half, now you’ve got yourself two worms. Build a house too close to a tree and over time those roots will jack your house up and crack your walls good.
So the blog will be whatever it needs to be and that’s that. Phew.
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