Good morning, geniuses, philosopher kings and queens, working-class heroes, progressive utopians with no sense of humor, lurking conservatives, pain sponges, need machines and psychic vampires.
Heed my words, idolators, fornicators of fornication, for the end times are nearer than ever, for Air America hath doth fucked up again.
After a mere six months on the air, the Marc Maron Show, led by Our Zen Master Marc Maron, was shitcanned by Air America Radio. Instead, they offered as atonement for their disastrous decision to let Danny Goldberg run the show, a return to the morning hours -- for a pittance not worth another bicoastal move to please an employer who had screwed him over twice.
Those who have not partaken of the feast of unleavened funny do not understand. But the many proud Maronites and Seditionistas that populate my friends list understand...and we will carry the Word of Maron, Earl, Smalls, Milfingtons, et. al, until they are heard again throughout the land.
But enough about them. On to the important person: ME!!
An unabashed, unrepentant, proud progressive with a finely-honed sense of irony, I do not suffer fools gladly. No sheeple, warmongers, or wingnuts need apply. Iconoclasts, snarkmeisters, and witty people only. If you wish you'd been part of the Algonquin Roundtable in a previous life, sucking down booze with the literati, drop me a line. Bring the funny, or bring chocolate. Those are your choices.
Lucky enough to be happily married for nearly 20 years to my best friend and soulmate, who puts up with my incessant ranting about politics, the world at large, and just about everything, because I have long believed that everyone is entitled to my opinion.
Writer, seeker, proud geek, still raging at the machine but embracing my role as tribal elder, crone, confidante, and mentor.
