I didn’t have a post ready today because I’ve been doing all this for-money writing all week and I can’t concentrate on anything. Also, the only thing that I feel compelled to do is post tons of Youtube clips of Bowie singing and Rickman doing a terrible American accent that doesn’t even fool John McClane. And it’s actually very easy to fool John McClane if you read between the lines of Die Hard.
Also, there’s been yet another chapter in the strange, sordid history of my family that’s popped up in the DC area. Yet another reboot of my family’s old company. People tell me how this is all in honor of my family’s legacy and they only have the best intentions but, then, they don’t involve me…and don’t understand that my family’s legacy is one of rape, murder, betrayal, and just about everything else bad. Praising my family’s legacy is like praising the Hitler family’s legacy.
But…oh, well. The for-pay writing I’m doing — the family memoir — is, of course, all about that shit. It all feels a little close to home when I’m writing about how Horrible Thing #271 happened while people are running around flying the family crest in the hopes of making money.
So, yes. That sapped me dry of the usual “Nacho talks about poop and penises” stuff. Sad, because poop and penises are really funny.
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