Tannishblog

It took a while, but the long-awaited, epoch-ending conflagration is finally spreading. What with Pakistan’s brewing instabilities, and today’s Kurdish attack in Turkey, it looks like Armageddon is back on track.

That should make Mr. Bush happy. And the Christian fundamentalists, too, if they’re actually allowed brief fits of non-rage. I’ll bet they were a bit worried that their Chosen One wouldn’t preside over the End of the World ™. Looks like he’ll at least get credit for the opening act. Good for him.

Let’s all sit back with our popcorn and watch the show!

I’ve been a bad blogger, haven’t I? Since July I’ve been reduced to one or two posts a week, often quickly rattled off and frivolous. Pathetic. The main culprit, I admit is EVE Online, to which I have a strong craving. While I type away on this, another quick jot, My gaming computer is monitoring my avatars’ asteroid mining - something that’s doesn’t take my complete attention.

Too, my lifestyle has changed. Before Independence Day, I had a job that allowed some free time to scan the news and prepare for my rants. The free time grew, and I happily got used to it. Then came the inevitable lay-off, which occurred - you guessed it - in July. After a tense week of job boards, I landed a job nine days later. Not too shabby.

Then the weirdness started. If this isn’t The Job That Ate My Brain, then surely it’s a subtle vampiric attack on my spirit. I’ve had bad jobs before but none quite so debilitating. I’ll forego the litany.

I now find myself at a crossroads: the soul-sucking job has to go, buy I cannot leave without an exit plan. I owe my family at least that much. What meager energies I own must be diverted into another job search. And what time I can spend in the healing void of virtual outer space must be tempered by multitasking. There’s not much left to devote to even as humble a blog as this.

But, in the immortal words of a(n in)famous politician: "Ah’ll be Bock" Tannish and his pet blog ain’t dead yet. Thanks in advance for your patience.

October ninth has been a secret holiday for me. During my preteens and on to high school I was a huge Beatles fan. After the fact, though, as they had disbanded by then. Nonetheless, afterschool hours would find myself and best-friend Paul memorizing every lyric and musical phrase, practicing laughable Liverpudlian accents and pretending to live an a world that few would ever know; inside the lives of two of the most famous people in the world. Yes, my buddy Paul was Paul McCartney, by virtue of name and an uncanny ability to mimic his voice, and I was John Lennon (by default, because, who else could I be in this boyhood fantasy?)

We learned a great deal about the Beatles during our escapist episodes. We both started playing guitars to round out the shared illusion. I still play. Although our lives separated soon after, I’m sure the Paul I knew still does as well.

So John Lennon’s birthday is today, and it’s my secret holiday. A sentimental, nostalgic day.

So sing you favorite John song. I know you have one. And celebrate the stunted love of a confused and brilliant man. John saw firsthand the absurdity of celebrity, the insanity of our world. He tried his best to point that out to us. After that, all he could do was to distance himself and Watch the Wheels go Round and Round.