There Is No 'Huh?' In Team

It was recently brought to my attention, over at Queen of Mediocrity, that some of you regulars are now regularly regulars at the sites of other regulars, without knowing how each of you came to be regulars in the first place. This was, I felt, — stand by on the rimshot — highly irregular. So, kids, come sit with lovable ol’ Uncle Al and let’s look through the B&T Family Album:

The Impersonal Professionals:

Chowhound Chicago
Ernie's House Of Whoop Ass
The Morning Line
The Sports Guy
College Humor

The Personal Professionals:

The Keys Network
Localized Phenomenon

Florida Keys Blogs: (2006’s Fastest-Growing Link Category)

Beyond the Reef
The Real Key West

Dead Homies:

The Fatass Underground
Princess Fixit
Born Blonde
Mostly Harmless


The first time I began to realize that this little web had grown beyond anything I was aware of was when I saw a link to

Tinfoil Viking Science — the author of which I know only via mutual blog-reading — on Born Blonde, which — see above — begat

Delusional At Best. Unbeknownst to both of them, BB works spitting distance from former coworker

The Gimmick, who is seated, most days, on the approximate midpoint on a straight line from ginger to

The Scarecrow. Sadly, the ‘crow wasn’t working in the Loop during the heyday of Happy Hour, unlike, say

Chasing Zero, presently the fiancee of graphic artist

Into The Blue, who never made it to a Happy Hour that I recall. Which means she doesn’t know

Anderbug, also known as “Happy Hour Kate.” HHK was brought to the table by the same person who brought (dragged) to the table

Backscatter, that person being the Stimpy half of

Mushroom Printing, the Ren half of which is married to the Little half of

Wild Loose Comma. Little is not married to Big, as was once hilariously mis-assumed. (Apropos of nothing: Big lives nearly as far north as does

Good Little Bad Girl, to visit whom warrants thoughts of regional-carrier air travel.) As I was saying, that delightful but inaccurate assumption about Big and Little was made by a party that shall remain anonymous for now. Let’s call her “Not The Same Juli Who Writes

Life on Wry“, to protect her from retaliation. I can tell you, again without identifying her, that she was introduced to me by the author of

Fluttering Things, stvitus, who also dragged poor

Core2Core into this whole sordid business. C2C is married, like

Vacation Wife, to guys that don’t feel the need to have blogs, probably because the potential for Mutually Assured Humilation is much too high. This seems not to be an issue for some folks, most notably

Existential Blues and

P-Funk, who are to be commended for not using their public forums for the airing of grievances. (Unlike some people *cough*

Money Honey *cough*) One hopes that

Queen of Mediocrity and

Flying With The Tigers will be able to show such admirable restraint once they put it on paper come June. I have a small put pivotal role in that particular wedding, as does

Mlle. Cara. Mlle. Cara, here at B&T, goes by bondgirl, and used to sleep with (well, sleep near) the sister-in-law of

Use Your Hands, with whom I got fabulously drunk at the wedding of the aforementioned sister-in-law. “In-law”, of course, means that she is the actual sister of he who is wed to ‘Hands, that being

Planet Shwoop, who changed his blog URL months ago and never got around to fucking telling me. I left the link up longer than I usually would with a dead blog, ’cause Shwoop, as a commenter, goes all the way back to B&T’s Big Bang. Speaking of which, the very first non-indulgent-friend comment I ever got was from

Pete Lit, which I appreciated very much. Pete and I are now working on a softcore porn screenplay, if by “working on” you mean “daydreaming about casting”, and who somehow or another brokered a connection between me and talented Canadian illustrator

BookLust, who once left me a long comment that ended with something like “And yes, I’ve had some wine.”, which I liked a lot. I did not meet her, sadly, when I attended a wedding in her home city. Fortunately, I know another illustrator, though,

Human Cartoon is not nearly so diligent about his updates. Now, I have tried for ten minutes to think of a tasteful way to handle the connection between HC and the two blogs he’s brought me,

Recycled Pet and

The Infinite Monkey Theorem, and I can’t come up with one, so instead I’m going to remind everybody that way back in the day, I nearly never saw the Cartoon without

Entartete Kunst. This was back in the day when everybody I knew went to DePaul except me. Right,

West Side Charlie? (Unless they were still in high school. Right,

Yeti Betty?) As a referral from the DePaul Posse came

RoseRash, proprietor of Springheel Jack and introducer of

Diary Of A Temp, who presently lives in Seattle — platonically as far as I know — with

Slap Someone.

Which should pretty much do it for the rundown.

But families grow.

An Unseemly Man

Several of the talented worthies over there on the right-side bar have organized Johari Windows for themselves recently — something about deducing the difference between how other people see you vs your own self-image. Why anyone would wish to have their protective self-image blasted away, I have no earthly idea, but, like a good little blogger, I tried to follow their examples. I failed, however, due to the inexplicable and confusing absence of the following words:


“I have been called obnoxious, bombastic, sarcastic, confrontational, and a know-it-all. Gentlemen, there is no doubt that I am all of these things.”

-Howard Cosell

With Apologies To The Sports Guy

I spent two hours today learning about Port Forwarding.

And NAT errors.

And torrenting.

And linksys routers.

And firewall exceptions.

And deciphering geek gibberish.

And figuring out how to get a static IP address.

And annoying the daylights out of Little.

And destroying the internet security of an entire office network.

All so I can watch Justice League Unlimited on my laptop.

By the way, I’m thirty-one years old.

Happy New Year

“Isn’t there anyone out there who can tell me what Super Bowl Sunday is all about?”

“Sure, Charlie Brown, I can tell you. Lights please?”

(a single spotlight shines on Linus)

“And there were in the same country cooks abiding in their kitchens, keeping watch over their food by night. And lo, the Al of the Lord came upon them, and the smell of chili wafted ’round about them, and they were sore afraid. And the Al said unto them, ‘Fear not, for behold, I bring unto you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you this day is played in the City of Detroit a game, which is Super Bowl Forty. And this shall be a sign unto you; you shall find friends and family wrapped in napkins and baggy pants and lying in a stupor.'”

“And suddenly there was with the Al, a multitude of cooks, dishing up and saying, ‘Glory to food in the highest, and on Earth peace, good will toward men, and buy a couple squares, and have some more cake.'”

That’s what Super Bowl Sunday is all about, Charlie Brown.”

Happy Super Sunday to you & yours, from all of us here at B&T.