The Outset

As I outstretch my fingers ever further into the WWW, enabling people to stalk me with even greater ease, I recoil from the thought of posting too much of my personal life in this blog's contents. It doesn't make me comfortable, and I'd much rather spare you all the boring mundanities.

Rather, I'll indulge in a little news-gathering. I like the news. I like gossip, which is simply news-as-rock instead of polished gem. I try to read as much as I can every morning, and it's generally my best option for killing time between the fits and spurts of work ethic I generally experience.

So what I'll try to do here is, every day, I'll post a new link to an article from the web. I'll do my best to keep it to Canadian content (fostering what little Canadian identity any of us may have left). The beauty of the news is that it's, well, new. And the newness of a thing will generally dictate how quickly it comes up in conversation.

My trouble is, I'm not a great conversationalist. When one spends most of their time doing homework are gazing blankly at the tv, there is never quite enough time to do things worthy of a good conversation. The news, on the other hand, basically makes it's gravy by tossing together delicious bits of beefy, juicy, tender-for-the-chewing tidbits of activity that most people would probably miss otherwise.

I know this isn't a strikingly new idea. I myself visit a number of blogs and websites a few times a week that do this exact same thing, only with far more aplomb and vitality than I figure I'll have the time for.

But, say you're on your way to the bar, and you're feeling boring. Probably means you are. And nobody gets laid by being boring, except perhaps Larry David (but if you could make being boring funny like only Mr. David can, you have a bajillion dollars and probably don't give a good goddamn about going to bars to get laid). If you don't have time for a quick scan of the internet before you leave, give The Daily Art a click and see what's tickling the fleshy interest lobe of my brain. You can then either take that as a jumping-off point for some witty dialogue, or go to the bar and trash me and my "who-does-he-think-he-is?" ego while you pound back your sorry Blue Lagoons.

Just promise me that if you DO get laid, you'll think of me. Go get'em killer.