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From Unclassifiable Blather

Feb 5, 2023

A Memo from Management

Notes from the Fifth Horseman of the Apocalypse

Many people are saying that the abandonment of Bachblog is a sign of the end. Other signs of the time include old tropes such as a worldwide pestilence, wars, rumors of wars, rising tides, wildfires, and an evil leader with a wounded head (and pride). Less-anticipated signs abound as well: reality TV, the lowering of sperm counts and IQs, survivalist multibillionaires, an international idiocracy, egg shortages, “quiet quitting,” sexualized M&Ms, Spotify, TMZ, NBA referees, and a crippling ennui afflicting some of the least interesting bloggers on the Internet.

I expect to hear soon of a previously-overlooked raving of Nostradamus gone viral. It may read something like this (in translation):

A circle of steely-eyed winged creatures
Illegitimate whelps of the malodorous Eloin
Shall encircle the world utterly
And defile the seven starry sisters
 
The earthen ball of the quaking deep
Ravenous against the Testlan birdspeaker
Shall reverse its course, creating fissures of doom
To swallow Eloin, Bayzous, and some other dudes
 

Please remember you heard it here first.

The real reason for this post

This uninspired post exists because:

A random page from my jolly ’ole travel journal (July 20, 2006: London)  ♦  I have slowly and methodically continued to work on the completion of my Lifebird[1] posts and the Summertime in England posts (both of which I want to leave for Joann, whose memories of our “adventures” are often hazier than she wishes). Joann’s transcribing 30-plus pages of my sloppy handwritten notes from the trip (see photo at right) is an example of her going “above-and-beyond” for which she deserves more than what this blog could possibly provide. The organization of our photos is something, at least.

  ♦  One of my two favorite daughters has suggested I field questions from her—every week!—so she can edit my answers and submit them to an online printing company which promises to create a beautifully-bound book-slash-keepsake, and sell it to us for a mere pittance. This may be in reaction to my shameful abandonment of the memoir I abruptly stopped writing in what seems like the late 20th century. This broken promise to my family—one I made publicly as well—is profoundly disappointing to me still.[2] I have beaucomp half-finished blog posts, including some stories (true and false) that I should either abandon or finish. Resusitating this blog and finishing some of them might serve to goose my creative juices (they are fermenting, and not in a good way).

  ♦  The recent Kings-Wolves “Clash of the NBA Titans” brought up The Never-ending Wager?, which me wonder: how much does Jeff owe me in Panamanian balboas? So I needed to publish the new total (which is still expressed in US dollars).

 
  - The Management -  
 

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Notes

  1. Some Lifebird and all “Summertime in England” posts are dated to early 2008—before the advent of Bachblog—in such a way as to keep them in chronological order. (Sharp-eyed readers familiar with my overcrowded Mount Rushmore of musical “men and women of granite”—which is another clue—will recognize from whom I stole “Summertime in England”). [^]
  2. The reasons I abandoned the project are many. One is that I started it too late for some in my intended audience. Others include a loss of enthusiasm for it, and my feeling I had nothing truly interesting to say. (My hypothetical blog readers, as I imagine them, are nodding vigorously.) I have used two excerpts from the stunted memoir on this blog. See The Big Snow or the shocking, 61st-birthday reveal 61* - Hero or Antihero?. [^]
 

Feb 5, 2023

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