Between July 2013 and February 2019, we have been through some times. We as in the Royal We, and we as in the collective of our beleaguered nation, but I don't need to tell you about any of that.
Unless I suddenly take another unannounced hiatus and revisit this cyberjawn in another 6 years, when I somehow gain illicit access to a computer despite a dystopian future that closely resembles the three-way love child of the Irish Potato Famine, The Handmaid's Tale, and HBO's Westworld. In that event, hi, person from the future. Remember Barack Obama? He was so good. We miss him now, but probably not as much as you do, because it sounds like shit got way worse for you. Sorry for everything.
Well that took a turn. Everything seems to take an unexpected hard left into a dark alley these days. When we last spoke in 2013, I was fixin' to move to South Carolina. At that point in time, "fixin' to" was not in my vocabulary. Now it is. In South Carolina, we owned a very adulty house, we made some friends, I got sexually harassed (#metoo), and I changed careers. Now I work with children, which no one saw coming, we live in a whack-ass apartment in Nashville, and sometimes I do standup comedy open mics because I did some soul searching and decided that public humiliation was something missing from my life.
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| What's the deal with male comics always talking about butt stuff? |
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