You can blame my school district.
They blocked Blogger.
I can see my blog but can't write new posts.
I guess I should write them in Google and then copy and paste them here, but there's something comforting about composing on this platform. Blogger and I go way back. Blogger is basically my blankie.
It occurred to me that I could do a podcast and put it up here.
Nowadays there are now thousands of podcasts out there. It's ridiculous, really. And when things get ridiculous, it's time to spoof them! You didn't expect "The Gods Are Bored" to go straight, did you? BAMP. No! If you're gonna spend time with me, I want you to have fun!
My first podcast was serious. If I do a serious one, I'll give you a head's up that it's serious or informational. If it's a spoof, I'll tell you that, too.
I'll also tell you how long the recording is. It won't ever exceed 10 minutes, because the platform I use maxes out at 10 minutes.
I'm not gonna switch completely to podcasting. That would make me snobby.
In today's news, Maximum Moron on the loose! Story below.
I joined a New Jersey hiking group on Facebook. Last night I saw a post, and I only wish I could find it to include the compelling photo here. Alas, it might have been axed from the feed. The post featured one of those morons that you stroke your chin and wonder: How the hell did this person live to adulthood?
The picture was of a young bro in his early 20s, out in the woods, holding up a snake. The bro was grinning ear to ear.
The photo caption: "I'm from Idaho, so I don't know much about the wildlife in New Jersey. What kind of snake is this?"
For the love of fruit flies!
The comments had been disabled, needless to say. But not before people informed the young idiot that he was holding a Nope Rope, a Danger Noodle, a Savage String. And someone else said, "We don't go pulling your damn potatoes out of the ground, do we?"
It's been quite a while since I saw a classic moron. Trump had the moron market cornered for so long, it's actually refreshing to see one outside of politics.
