In spite of the fact that I've spent as much time concocting overwrought blog droppings over the past three months as I have sucking on a crack pipe, the idea of sitting out the home stretch of the Great Rube Uprising of 2010 is kind of unfathomable. Yes, it's been difficult to stay away this long whilst the left hurled endless trial balloons of fail in their desperation to dissolve the population and create a new one. But when you're busy, lazy and, well, aware that there were more bodies in Jeffrey Dahmer's freezer than there ever are at your blog at any moment, it seems more important to bookmark everything that irritates or amuses you than to endeavor to breathlessly post about them. In sum, those bookmarks create a rather vivid collage of the folly that is leftism, but when you're standing at the intersection of laziness and ambition, every item looks like a building block for a weighty treatise or unified theory of leftards. Why suffer the indignity of routinely playing small ball when you can do nothing instead?
What's interesting is that like stagnant water draws disease-carrying insects, so too can a blog untended attract the left. In the Spring I wrote a post about race with a deliberately provocative headline and in the ensuing months of inactivity here, it has consistently received hits like no other. There are limits to what one can extrapolate from site statistics, but when the visits are overwhelmingly coming from the insular environs of leftlandia, it's pretty obvious you have pinkos desperately probing the bowels of the internet for meme support. Meme first, evidence later, - even if one has to manufacture it. I don't remember when that wasn't the left's motto. And as I noted in an update to the post a few days ago, I'm sure it must have been a disappointment to the lot of poor little leftists that the contents of my obscure little blog were in no way useful to their cause.
The Democrats got a new logo in my absence. They're never wrong, it's always the message which needs recalibrating. And I'll be damned if they didn't nail it with a blue block "D" in a circle with a thick blue frame. A jackass had obvious limitations, but a "D" can mean so gosh darn many things. I'm partial to Denouement, whereby Barney Frank gets his pecker cut off by one of Sean Bielat's robots and Nancy Pelosi packs his greasy knob in her purse for those cold, gray, lonely nights when she no longer has a gavel to rock herself with while weeping by the fire. Unfortunately for the fadwhores of teh left, the letter affords one boundless opportunities for truthy self-expression. And I'm about nothing if not that.