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Throughout the history of mankind there have great decisions.1 Mighty decisions. Decisive decisions that have forever altered the fabric of nations and hemmed the garments of destiny. Ponce de Leon took that job in the everglades, Washington crossed the Delaware in a rowboat instead of a catapult, and I…I have decided to blog.

This last revelation will no doubt come as a great shock to those of you who have so far failed to identify this site as a weblog, possibly mistaking it for Crapquest or perhaps the official internet presence of the Government Bureau of Fabricated Statistics.

Bureau of Fabricated Statistics ~ the Ominous Comma

“Blast it, Janice. You can’t just not make up numbers here. Now go back and try it again.”

So go ahead, put on your glasses, take your medication, chisel the crusted eye-mucus from your pupils. We’ll wait until you can summon the high state of mental acuity required for proper reading and recognition of this blog.

If you’re ready now, we’ll continue.

As briefly alluded to above and outright stated fourteen words ago, the Ominous Comma is a blog. Which makes me, in the most stubbornly literal sense, a blogger.

The key distinction that I have used to separate myself from the weblog wielding masses is that until now, I have never really embraced blogging. In fact, I never intended to go beyond the handshake stage in our relationship. Blogging for me has been more of an accidental encounter, much like mistaking a porcupine for toilet paper in the middle of the night, but without the need for pliers or an antibiotic enema.

As a brief consultation with the About page will reveal, I entered this site as author and although technically I still don’t have a book, or published articles, or even a cabinet full of liquor, I haven’t let that stop me from launching a book signing tour and many other such authorly activities.

A perfect illustration of this stubborn blog-resistance came some time ago over at A-muse-ing, where R.J. posted a survey asking her readers what led them to blog. My response was thoroughly honest, declaring my grand humor career aspirations while secretly scorning those people who admitted to acts of bloggery for the expressed purpose of meeting other people.

“I know people.” I mocked, “Even the people I know, know people, who in turn know other people, and even animals. In fact, I have a full six-degrees of separation with myself!” I declared to my computer, before throwing my head back and reveling in a manly, world-conquest inspired fit of maniacal laughter.

But something happened. The worst thing that can befall a serious author: I started having fun.

And even worse, I met people.

Interesting people. People who check in with me. People who I check in with as well. People who comment and subscribe and blogroll me and send embarrassingly large checks.2

People that like me even more than Sally Fields.

Thanks to these people and their questionable taste in humor, I am forever trapped in a world of mutual admiration and reciprocal reading material.

But I have decided to make the best of it, and to celebrate this acceptance of fate, I am launching myself full-throttle into total blogging mode. Every day next week I will post upon this unsuspecting weblog, going where no blogger has ever gone before. At least without a prescription.3

That’s right, Tuesday and Thursday will get to stand up and take a bow this next week. We’re talking 40% more irrelevance than ever before released on the humble portals of this site. Nothing is sacred, no one is safe, no meme will be left unturned.

First on deck: Marauding Monday.

I will leave you to your weekend, so that you may ponder and perplex over what precisely I may mean by this mysterious and mighty meme.

I’ll be doing the same.

This post is clogging up the blogoshpere at

  1. In all fairness, womankind has made many mighty decisions as well, but since they frequently seem to involve coordinating footwear and distinguishing shades of color that I cannot even see, I must confess that I am thoroughly unqualified to expound upon their highly impressive decision making prowess.
  2. Of course I had to create the Department of Ominous Ricochet Recovery when I foolishly tried to cash the checks.
  3. Anyone who has been where we’re going was lost. This time it’s intentional.