I’d like to blog, but I’m too angry. And the details of my anger are so esoteric and picayune that saying anything specific about it, let alone piling on enough detail to make my rage reasonable, would undoubtedly bore even the most faithful reader.
Some people can pull off writing about their personal life, meaning keeping it interesting. (Two such people, who write about other things as well, have links to the right.)
Some can’t. (For jawdropping proof, look here, here or here, if you dare.)
I can’t pull it off.
So let me just say I am convinced anew that the Boston Herald employs some of the biggest fucking assholes in the world. The culture — seemingly structured to prevent rather than encourage progress — encourages it.
I acknowledge that the biggest assholes probably think the same of me.
But, then, I didn’t go into their offices and break their fucking equipment. Then leave it broken for two days. Then ...
Oops. Was that the sound of everyone leaving my blog?