So lock your doors, hide your hot dogs

Looks like it’s time to take my place on a wing of this scrum. To occupy my obscure, well-worn butt groove and put my scent on this couch. And the metaphors will get worse.

Under this posthead, you may read a lot of things. Things that make you crave the calm pool of an afternoon’s Reefer Madness. But in it’s less terrifying moments, this part of Gaming Confessions, On Me In Beirut, whatever [ditriech]’s calling this, will feature politics and hockey. And drinking.


Because there is no way of combining those three things that isn’t awesome.

S’why there’s no picture on these posts. If you’re in line at a polling booth, and smell George Dickel, and turn to the guy in the helmet beside you … I don’t want to be recognized before the real fun starts.

And highfalutin nonsense. There will be that. And attempts to be morally serious. Otherwise the nuns in my head start screaming agian. Result: this name will be firmly in the race for Biggest Nerd on the Site. Which, I can see Bama already threw Lenord Cohen and “hermeneutically” … in one goddamn post … so that’s a lot of ground to make up.

Stay tuned.

If anybody’s actually out there.