When, in the course of human endeavors, we find it necessary . . . screw that fancy shit. I'm back!
First off, thanks for the notes, email, phonecalls, prayers and "happy thoughts" while I was on my unexpected vacation. They really helped pass the time, and took my mind off the mounmental fuck-up I'd become. Ya' see, I'd let my on-line persona creep into my everyday life where he set up shop and began thinking he could run things. Now, there ain't nothing wrong with a little Turd, but a whole lot of him can be hard to take, and letting him run things . . . well . . . let's just say can get a little unwieldy.
Secondly, and this is important, THE SUITS WERE RIGHT. I screwed up. Some of my posts, though honest, were mean-spirited. That ain't me, nor was it my intent when I started this thing, and I APOLOGIZE. Sure, I meant to poke a stick in the eye of the news gods every now and again, but I never meant to poke the folks we victimize with our babycams everyday. Those posts needed to come down -- probably not the whole blog -- but I couldn't bear the thought of someone going through, post-by-post, looking for offensive material. You guys know me. If someone wanted to be offended, they could find something in almost every post. It was MY DECISION to pull it all down rather than have each post nit-picked into bland-oscity.
That said, it hit me during my first cold-turkey weekend -- the STW, pinchers, and I were all front row-center in church as we are most weekends (an appropriate place for revelations such as this) -- I've been given a gift, and, too often, I've used that gift to tear people down rather than build them up. As a good friend might say, "That ain't right."
I return to this crap-nicolor screen a more humble Turd. (I thought I might include 'wiser,' but it's me we're talking about here.) Besides the new name, (Fil-Turd by me not the suits) what does that mean for the blog? I don't pretend to know. I do know that every time I've sat to write some happy-go-lucky, everything-is-wonderful, Barbra-Billingsly-Leave-It-To-Beaver post, I get hives. So don't come here looking for rose colored glasses. I'm still the same stanky Turd you've always known. And I still plan to call it like I see it. How I do that without violating station policy and continuing to put bread on the table remains to be seen.
I can't promise on-screen meltdowns of the Danny Boneduce kind -- hell, I can't even promise regular updates -- but I can promise an honest look at the shitty side of the business I love.
