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            Alright, yeah, I admit it.  I disappeared.


            I needed a break.

            All of the fame, glory, and riches that come from writing for a site like this leads to tremendous pressure.  Instead of using my new found notoriety to my advantage, by continuing to let the site grow into one of the largest and most popular internet empires in the world, I let it collapse.  Oh well, canít win Ďem all. 

            There can be a great many similarities drawn between my situation and that of Bill Watterson.  As you may (and should) know, Bill Watterson is the creator of Calvin and Hobbes, one of the greatest comic strips ever.  Sure other strips may have achieved greater levels of fame and popularity, such as Peanuts, but Watterson always kept the highest level of integrity when it came to his work.  So I guess thatís one of the differences between him and me.

            Speaking of Peanuts, I am definitely not knocking that strip.  I have always admired Charles Schultzís ability to sneak his biting cynicism and bitter social commentary into his strip, under the cover of his curiously dysfunctional characters.  There was Charlie Brown, the suicidal paternal figure of the group; Linus, the incurably dependant one, Lucy, the eternally PMSing mega-bitch; Sally the Stalker; Pig Pen, the homeless boy; and Schroeder, the homosexual who would reject the girl in favor of the arts.  Also Snoopy, who despite being an animal, was clearly the smartest of the group.  He was the only one who could teach the kids anything, especially since all of the parental figures spoke solely in trumpet noises.

            I donít really know what the deal with Woodstock was.  His name implies he is either a hippie or a drug addict, or maybe both.  A substance abuse problem would, however, explain why Woodstockís vocabulary consisted solely of slash marks.  How did he and Snoopy communicate?  Snoopy spoke English and Woodstock spoke, well, whatever that hell that was.  I figure Snoopy had no idea what Woodstock was saying; he was just too cool, calm, and collected to be pestered by the yellow burnout.  So yeah, Woodstock was definitely high on something other than life.  He had to have been on some sort of pills, he was insane.  Organizing a hockey game in a bird bath?  That makes no sense!  Hockey rinks are oval shaped, not circular.

            But I digress.

            I think.

            Youíd probably need a good point in order to stray from it.  What was I talking about, anyway?  Hold on.

            Oh yeah, Bill Watterson.

            Bill & Me.

            Bill vs. Me.

            Iím trying to draw comparisons, so I probably donít want to use ďvs.Ē

            Bill Watterson was a talented artist and an amazing writer.  I, uh, write stuff also.  Watterson struggled to fit his ideas into the Sunday newspaper strips, due to the restrictive panel formats.  I struggle to make any of my ideas for this site work, due to my poor html skills.

            You know what?  Forget it.  This comparison sucks.  I donít know why I even brought it up.

            Very long story made very short:  I was gone.  Iím back.

            Iím back, in fact, from the land of plague, pestilence, and ponchos.  Thatís right, Florida.  Iím getting back to the roots of this site, back to what started it all way back when.  About four articles ago.

            The recent trip back will give me plenty to complain about, find humor in, and make deep philosophical insights into. 

            There will also be new things that I didnít already talk about, so there is a good chance it wonít all be reruns of what I have already done.  But I make no promises.

            All of that is coming very soon, as well as a few others that I already have planned out.  How about that, miracles do happen.

            So donít delete this site from your bookmarks.  Yet.

            But ha ha, guess what?  Like I said, all of that is upcoming, this article you are reading right now it about nothing.

            You have spent the last five minutes reading nothing but filler.



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