I hate Writers Block.
I'm sitting here, staring at this bloody little white square, and I can almost believe that it's taunting me.
And Goddess only knows that there's enough stuff whirling through my mind to make a couple of blog posts...
The Honourable Congresscritter from Houston has authored a bill to make the police use, or purchase, of Tasers unlawful from Jan 2008 until Jan 2009 -- so that someone somewhere can ponder the civil rights implications of Tasers.
Oh, boy! I get my stainless steel stick back! Baton chokes for everyone! Happy days are here again ...
I've got a real nice "Meditations" post on dealing with panic that refuses to gel, another one on blending with your environment, and I really should finish off the Saga of the Pink Gorilla.
Got a couple of tales about bush pilots in Nigeria in the 60's and 70's, kind of funny in a OhMyGawdWe'reGonnaDie sort of way.
And then there was the time the Usual Suspects decided that Chris and I were being denied a proper Fourth of July celebration and promptly ... acquired ... munitions from the Nigerian Army.
You haven't seen a real fireworks display until you've given napalm, semtex, and several thousand rounds of tracer ammunition to a pack of sloshed engineers.
But, noooo, I'm sitting here with Writers Block and I can't even get the posts started.