Good morning Kossaks, and happy birthday, to me. Ok, so I'm actually pretty down about turning 35, plus my sinuses are being assaulted by pollen, and the Democratic nomination process is trudging on at the speed of Russian literature [wrote this 3 hours before Edwards endorsed, but I'm not changing it now]. To celebrate, I considered ending the world in an embolism of Cthulhu-inspired slime and seething cthonian destruction, or perhaps just raising a necromantic army and laying waste to the landscape (especially the trees), leaving behind only sorrow and ash, but Mrs. SPX felt that was a bit harsh.
So instead I want to celebrate you silly silly people, most specifically the monikers you choose do describe yourself. So pull up a bench, grab a short-stack and some coffee, and let's have ourselves a PANCAKE JAMBOREE!
Growing up with role-playing games has given me a taste for creative self-naming. And the great tradition of naming yourself extends to all kinds of creative and revolutionary persons, from Sting to Mark Twain to Malcom X to Pauline Reage (yes, I did just put all those people in the same sentence). It's a powerful thing, a name, and the opportunity to rename yourself is a wonderfully creative experience.
Can I warm your cup, hun?
But you silly people defy explanation! I often find myself cruising the comments enjoying, deciphering, and being perplexed by your chosen monikers.
So I'd like to ask you all for a tiny birthday gift: tell me about the name you chose. Tell me why and what drove you to choose to be known as "Clown-Bat 50031" or "Mother of Dave's Cat" or "JMX223".
Have another bite, you didn't even try the maple syrup!
Thanks for dropping by, sharing, and most of all for being a VERY SILLY person!
Don't forget to tip the wait-staff!