My last little hint indicated I was tweaking the cogs in the proverbial Rube Goldberg machine that is this blog. As you no doubt surmised, after much humming, hawing, and prognosticating to the Kuiper Belt and back — many of you know the endless battle I had with myself — I’m hanging my hat at a new home:

Pure Blog.

I’m hoping to minimize breakage, and planning to port over my content before making the official switch on the backend. I’ll be setting up a redirect for my PIKA feed, so apart from some older posts possibly showing up in your feed again (apologies), you shouldn’t have to touch your RSS settings to continue following along. I’m excited to see where this goes; even more, I’m excited to get writing again.

Stay tuned! ;)

And by the way, that’s Mister What The Hell Is He Up To, to you. 😉

I would search my feelings this morning, but Siri would tell me I have to unlock my iPhone to see the results.

I love a good and simple bandwagon to jump on now and then. After seeing Manu and Kev do this, I’m game.

1. Summer (and by definition, climate change).
   Because sweating from every orifice in your body is stupid.

2. Wealth inequality.
   No human being on this Earth, regardless what they do, how well they do it, and how much helium they can pump into their overinflated ego balloon, deserves to have billions of dollars. This will never cease to boggle my mind. The only thing less understandable was the teacher’s voice from Charlie Brown cartoons.

3. Clothes coming out of the dryer inside out.
   If this is the fault of the dryer, I weep for humanity that we can’t figure this shit out. If this is caused by the intentional removal of clothes the wrong way, please get off my lawn. ;)

4. Broccoli.
   Nothing makes me question my life choices more than any time I’ve tried gnawing on this vile weed. Pass me the cheese sauce please; not to put on the broccoli, I’ll just eat the cheese sauce by itself.

5. The GIF debate.
   It’s pronounced GIF, not GIF. I will die on this hill, dammit.

6. People who drive at night with no headlights on.
   How does one possibly not know their headlights are off? It really shouldn’t be this hard.

7. Inquisitive farts.
   Don’t look at me like that, you know exactly what I’m talking about. The kind of flatulence where you were hoping for a blue-ribbon-winning release, only to be let down by this squeaky, dismal failure with an upward inflection at the end that sounds like it was asking you a question. Only thing worse would be feeling obligated to come up with an answer.

8. Microwave ovens.
   There are only two temperatures possible with these useless contraptions:
   - “I ran that thing for how long, and this food is still fucking cold?” or;
   - hot enough to take on a radioactive half-life, then stone cold in five minutes.

9. Shopping at Walmart.
   Nothing gets the stomach acid pumping like a good ’ole trip to Wally World. Regardless whether I come out of there empty handed, I’m guaranteed to walk out with a migraine, and an even more deep seated hatred for capitalism in all its forms. If I’m in there when the P.A. system is sounding off incessantly with someone who seemingly just wants to hear their voice over said P.A., then everyone can get off my lawn. And before you suggest shopping online, no thanks — I’d rather eat the broccoli.

10. Media outlets that don’t know how to use quotes.
    How is it that major journalism entities don’t know the difference between straight and curly quotes? Straight quotes are supposed to be for coding, or as a substitute for prime (ft/minutes) and double-prime (inches/seconds) symbols. Curly quotes are the correct tool for speech or conversation excerpts. I constantly see straight quotes being used for everything, and it makes me want to rage quit the news.
    
    Bonus item:

11. That I used to be a Toronto Maple Leafs fan.
    The good news is after all that time I’m rid of the pain and suffering. The bad news is after all that time I’m rid of the pain and suffering.
    

Life’s too short to be scrolled.

The web was always meant to be a tool, never a lifestyle.

— Yours truly

dear putrid summer
like a mallet on my head
forcefully get bent