Boy, it sure is bright out here...

I haven't blogged for a while now. It seems I experienced a raging case of information overload. One day I just shut off the tube, the computer, the phone and the lights and crawled into the broom closet. There I assumed the fetal position and stayed that way for 2 weeks, taking only intravenous feedings. Looking back, Id say the tipping point was the whole Gates affair. When highly regarded (and paid) black men, men of great fortune I might add, morph into ghetto banging, head wagging victim mongers, its time to go comatose. So, there in my closet, which strangely resembles my house in shape, size and comfort, I gave up on the blitzkrieg of elitists talking heads groveling before the king...that is, until I stopped drooling and was able to feed myself. Which, in reality, took about two hours.

Actually, I took advantage of a few much needed business opportunities and, just to spice up life a bit, added two daughters, one son in law, a granddaughter, three cats and a dog to the mix in the Three Ball Dead household. So, I've been doing the family thing: meals (the S.I.L. can cook!), picking up, dropping off, going to church with the whole family....wow. Mr's TBD and I had been an island of two for some time; hence, going from library quiet to Grand Central Station loud has taken some adjusting to...to say the least. But it's a glorious time to be alive; and so it could be said that living life took me away from the blogosphere. As an aside, while I convalesced, I think I downloaded the entire Beatles catalogue to my IPOD (or is that uploaded?). I played the lads at high decibels too: It was a yeah, yeah, yeahfest all throughout the house for days...and all at the expense of (or more aptly for the benefit of) my high school aged daughter and her shaggy boy friend. Lord knows they need some music education...know what I'm saying dog?

But one can't hide from the world forever; and as Barry continues his relentless push to cloth us in those drab Soviet pajamas while waiting for our hip replacements, and to force us into those Not So Smart Cars, I had to suck it up and get back in the game. There's corrupt, hypocritical, sniveling, elitists, limp wristed (think Barry's All Star Game first pitch), Marxist bureaucrats to rant and rave about. There's freedom to defend, legs to break and minds to change. With some of the Obmatrons I've met, the leg breaking option has far more appeal. Their minds are too far gone for them to be of any use...they may as well limp in pain as they line up to bow before the One. Hi Ho.