Oh christ... save me from the Super Bowl.

I decided that instead of writing a post (seeing as how frequently I've been successful in that arena), I'd film one:

About the Super Bowl, of course. MEDIA WEEK, woot.

My pets, they love me.

Hitler had his dog, Blondi, who loved him. Dearly.

Dr. Claw had his maniacal furry companion, MAD cat.

Somewhere, at this very moment, there is a dog / cat eagerly waiting for their master to walk through the door, toss his keys in the tray (with that familiar clink-klank), reach down and give an affectionate pat on the head … after a long day of child-rapin’.

Whereas we would like to think that our pets are aware and appreciative of the people we are … they could care less if we were a selfless, compassionate veteran school teacher or someone that commits heinous crimes of the sickest nature. As long as they are fed, receive a steady diet of attention and are given a warm bed … your pet will love you back – the center of their world.

Of course, with deeper analysis you can draw the conclusion that pet owners who also happen to be deviants of humanity are far less likely / capable of providing their four legged pal with the items of care listed previously.

That doesn’t mean I’m any less disturbed by the image of a man who happens to enjoy the world of asphyxiophilia to the point that his property is littered with the bones of ill-fated playmates … sitting on his couch, engaged in a loving exchange of affection with his cat, Doodlebear. Pausing only to sip some tea.

Toot-toot goes the party favor you use to make noise whilst ringing in the new year (I think it's a cousin of the kazoo).

Look at this, y’all. It appears as if we have a new year on our hands. Whereas it is the 12th day of the year and most bloggers chose to write their “first post of the year” inside the 1-7 day range … I’m well aware that I’m not a blogger, rather just some guy who periodically (seems to be more on the sporadic side as of later) posts some words to a blogger account. Look at me, ma… I’m a writer.

Welcome to the year 2-thousand-and-nine, the voyage through the 21st century continues, surging on… Finding me at the start of my 26th trip around the sun.

2009, oh what do you have in store for us?

A new President? You betcha, he’s being sworn in soon (or so I hear). A homicide rate (per 100,000 people) that drops for the second year in a row? I sure hope so. The economy … well, it should rebound, but who fucking knows.

I’m hoping Miley Cyrus dies. I could go into the reasons as to why … but let’s just cut to the chase and leave it at that. She has no upper lip, btw.

Big things for you, big things for me … Please start calling your resolutions “goals” as you’ll stand a better chance of achieving them, than tossing them aside because that’s the fate of all previous resolutions.

I’m cold, when it comes to the blog … But here’s to setting a goal of thawing out. There’s no better way to do this than to bust into one of my favorite (and only consistent, yet absent – abducted by my own laziness) segment: Steez at the Movies.

Cheers to you.