Hello, I Love You

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So, who the hell creates a blog in order to reach out to his audience on a more personal level and then doesn’t update it in over two weeks?

Well, Ken Socrates, apparently.

Before you string me up on a gibbet, though, hear me out.  There are reasons I’ve been absent, not the least of which is the stunning amount of work I’ve been putting into my current manuscript.  About 450 pages into the intitial rough draft, it’s becoming a wild, uncontrollable behemoth of a work, I must admit.  Not only is it in complete control of me, driving me psychotically toward it’s own unforseeably grim intentions, but it seems to have some very serious designs for worlds of literature, politics, religion, sociology and superhero mythology.  The way I see it now, it’s out of my hands entirely and I am simply the vessel for delivering a message that, for all I know, is originating from somewhere else entirely.  Likely from the mind of a very powerful rogue AI with designs on world domination.

Whatever.

Meanwhile, some of the recent time betwixt posts here has also been spent in recovery at the local hospital where I was being treated after a particularly nasty accident here at the Compound.  For legal reasons I’ll avoid the fine details but suffice to say that anything you try to make out of gunpowder at 4:30 am, espicially if you’re at the tail end of a 54 hour alcohol/sinus medication/paint huffing bender is unlikely to be terribly stable and reliable, either in the lab or in the field.   So “the field”, as you might imagine, now has a new 14 foot diameter circle of scorched earth that the locals have enthusiastically mistaken for a new landing spot for extraterrestrials and I have spent a couple days nursing a variety of burns of varying degree.

Anyway, who needs eyebrows.

So, I’m back here with the promise that things will be a bit more lively as we go along.  You have my word.  This thing will see regular updates, now, possibly so many that you’ll be utterly sick of reading them at some point and go all Anti-Ken on me.  That’s alright, though.  I’m not out here to rack up approval points.  The Truth is my mistress and she’s not a social butterfly.

Now, some shout outs to my peeps.

Thanks go to the Gonz O’Lager for giving me a proper intro over at The Bourbon Asylum.  No better friend doth monsieur Ken have, in the blogsphere or otherwise.  Whenever there’s trouble brewing and the Cheap Suit Gang are kicking at the door, there’s only one name on speed dial and it’s this guy. 

I also need to give a shout to colleagues Joe Hawaii and Gaylord “Ra” Fondue for their scathing new piece on the whole Jimmy Olsen Hollywood Scandal.  As always, the Didactic Duo are right there with an angle on the news that no run-of-the-mill journalist would ever even consider.  Nice work, boys.

Meanwhile, here, the fight continues.  Watch this space for more frequent updates and all manner of maniacal, insideous nonsense.

Oh, yeah.

It’s on.

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4 Responses to “Hello, I Love You”

  1. Joe Hawaii & Gaylord "Ra" Fondue Says:

    Again, I kindly ask you to remove me from your mailing list. Posting links to our work does not mean we wish to receive your spam. Though we do appreciate the thought. We’d also appreciate some cash. The cash you owe us for our informative articles. The cash that you alternately say “is in the mail,” “was lost in the mail,” or “feels pleasant against my inner thighs, suckers.”

    Thanks in advance,
    Joe Hawaii and Gaylord “Ra” Fondue.

  2. Ozzy McGurt Says:

    Hey, thanks for the shout out Ken. Just because I haven’t updated my site lately I’m chopped liver? I’ve been busy, alright? The Market is killing me. The alpacas are eating me out of house and home, meanwhile I can get more for selling the stinky bastards for dog food than I can get out of the Goddamned wool. Not to mention Elsa is on strike because Momma told her to quit dressing like a tramp. And, to top it all off, there’s this ammo situation. A man with my “interests” needs an awful lot of ammo. All these Doomsday Gun Freaks have gone apeshit since the elections. You can’t find any ammo anywhere, and if you do happen to luck into some it’s at highly inflated prices. The world is going batshit crazy Ken. But hey, I’m glad you’re doing well.

  3. Gonz O'Lager Says:

    Cheers, brudda. I always knew that somewhere, somehow, there was a maniacal twisted genius who rivaled my own dastardly machinations. We are rapscallions, rakes and rulers of a peculiar little word, you and I. Though my asylum may not have the space to match the bunker (when did you have the paintball range installed?), it exists for the same reason yours does — an oasis from the pinks, normals, greyfaces, twits, twats and semprinis who seek to normalize and bore us to death.

    I love you.

    Man.

    So when we trying out that new trebuchet you got me for my birthday?

  4. Ken Socrates Says:

    Oh, I’ve got about 14 different targets picked out from the houses I can see in the distance, here at the Compound. Hear that, you mouth breathing bastards? You shall rue the day you ever decided to leave your dogs outside barking all morning, yes you shall.

    And Ozzy, my old pal, you have an ongoing, neverending shout out from me, you damn big bastard. If I mentioned your exploits in every article I ever did, you know damn well we’d both be in jail.

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