Ahoy, folks.
First of all, let me address a lot of the comments that I've been fielding since my last two admittedly doomy-gloomy posts. For a start, I am not abandoning this blog, so breathe easy or resume frowning accordingly. Secondly, please remember that the source of the critiscism that gave me pause last week was a FRIEND of mine. He's not a random commenter or an anonymous hater or anything. It's the very fact that he's a friend of mine that leant his comments such weight. Had it come from some other source, I'd probably have ignored it. But, again, he's a friend of mine, so let's please keep the name-calling to a minimum. Thanks.
On the flip side of that, let me also say that I appreciate all your words of support. I can't predict how the afore-cited exchange is going to impact this weblog going forward, but it was encouraging to hear that not everyone finds Flaming Pablum to be boorishly limited in scope or myopic or conservative, etc. I've had a brief exchange with RK in the days since my last post, and I assure you that all's well. We'll invariably argue about it again soon, but there's no sincere ill-will.
The comparatively long silence between posts recently wasn't entirely due to the that incident, though. As I noted, I'm in the midst of a job change (actually, my first day at the new gig was today). As such, I had to tend to a number of things and then quickly traipsed off to Long Island for some sorely-needed time with my kids (that's them up at the top, of course, at our local wildlife refuge). After frantically wrangling through the red tape of searching for -- and miraculously landing-- a new job prior to the end of my contract at the last job (sparing me from the 100 day vocational exile I had to deal with last time), it was great to unplug and get away from the city for a quick breather.
But now I'm back in the working week. Without going too deeply into it, I'm now working within the hallowed halls of 30 Rockefeller, or "30 Rock," as it is universarlly known. While I've yet to spot Tina Fey or Alec Baldwin, I did surreally pass both Jimmy Fallon and Keith Olbermann on my way to buy a coke from the commisary. I thought that was pretty cool.
I'm also back in the city, so you can probably expect more to come in shorter order, notably further pictures prized from the lost box. Until then, here's a titularly-appropriate tune from Paul Simonon's short-lived side project, Havana 3.A.M. that I used to quite enjoy ... `cos, y'know, I live in the past.
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