Your author at work.

It was 10:30am Saturday morning. It was about half an hour since my wife had rolled out of bed. She was finally finding her words.

“How did it go?” she asked.

I thought real hard for a long, long time but I was baffled. I had no clue. “What in the name of Zeus’ butthole are you talking about?!”

(Side note: This is a fairly representative example of a typical conversation in the Taker household. -Ed.)

“Your blog post.”

Oh. Shit.

Around 5:30am the cat had gone completely bonkers: Biting my toes under the blankie, getting stuck in the window blinds, and retching multiple times in the living room. I had been up since that time. Feline law demanded it.

“I knew I should have reminded you,” she added. “What the hell have you been doing all this time?”

“There’s really no way to know!”

I was reluctant to admit the truth. Nothing too exciting. Just playing video games. In my defense, I’d covered a few hundred harrowing kilometers on my home planet in blizzard conditions.

That conversation awkwardly ended, it was time to turn my attention to the next great success of the day. What the hell to write about?

Potential ideas flashed through my Swiss-cheese like mind:

  • Yet another missive about He Who Must Not Be Named? No way!
  • A topical post about our first Fourth of July under He Who Must Not Be Named? No way! (But, if I went that way, my angle would be “independence” from fireworks.)
  • A “Miss Manners” post on the etiquette of fine placenta dining? Naw, it’s not even lunch time yet.
  • A new chapter in The Selfie Diaries entitled “The Fame Monster” about our failing educational system, i.e., a lack of understanding about the physics of guns and books. Hint: It’s #1 with a bullet.
  • Trains that don’t like tracks. (AKA You Had One Job.)
  • The debate about how many Americans should die in the service of money. Meh.
  • Why NASA has a child slavery ring on Mars and, more importantly, why I was excluded? (No one has volunteer more often for the one-way trip than me!)
  • The time honored practice of tossing coins into passenger jet aircraft engines for “good luck.”
  • A treatise on Chris Christie being America’s least popular governor. “[Christie’s] approval rating landed at a record-low of 15 percent in a recent Quinnipiac University Poll.” Christie responded, saying polls “mean nothing.” Ah, but of course.
  • An editorial about Tonya Couch, mother of the “affluenza teen” who murdered four human beings, who avoided jail time after violating terms of her bail by drinking alcohol and, in a separate incident, holding a rifle at a gun show. Meanwhile, affluenza daddy, Fred Couch, is currently serving a year of probation for impersonation of a police officer. What I wouldn’t give to be a part of that family unit.

My last idea, though, is probably the greatest. (Hint: It’s the one I went with.) The concept is simple. Describe the “writer’s process” of throwing up (sic) a blog post and how potential blogging ideas are considered then rejected out of hand. This is also known as “meta vomit” by us bigwig bloggers.

Should be unfascinating.