A Cop-Out

Is how I would define the last two posts, entirely purloined, seeing as how these days I am entirely unburdened by original thought. So sue me. Sue me for the $2 of ad revenue I've netted on my blog, even though I'm disallowed from mentioning it ever since I allowed their parasitical presence last May, back when I was getting two thousand hits a day for that Snakes on a Plane business. That'll buy you a Butterfinger and a Coke, if you're buying in a cheap part of town. The ad co. doesn't even cut you a check for less than $20, and I won't see that for years.

Someday I'll figure out why I have nothing to say anymore, but here are my top theories:

1) I have a boyfriend now, and everyone knows that regular sex kills off most other drives.

2) I'm nervous about seeing my brother this weekend. The last time was when I was nineteen, and before that eight.

3) It's Santa Ana season (winds from the desert that heat up and dry out Los Angeles this time of year), which is said to make people crazy, and at the very least, clearly causes allergies.

4) A very close friend of mine whose aesthetic opinion I revere, very tactlessly took a big shit all over the world of blogging (not mine specifically), and I haven't quite been the same ever since, even though I couldn't disagree more. That's a topic for another time, though.

5) I've already emptied out the contents of my head, heart and soul, and there ain't nothing else in there. Which brings us to-

6) That one Scientology course I was subjected to has taken its toll, and now that I've met Xenu, I'm completely uninteresting. That reminds me, if you knew and Googled my name, you would see that I was subjected to a Scientology course a few years ago, a thing I would have assume was private and not a matter of public record. I don't think you can find my transcript from Brown anywhere on the web, or my attendance at any other church, for that matter. This is really a drag, but oddly enough, it is not the L-Rons (wasn't that a Phil Spector girl group in the early 60s?), who are to blame, rather, one of their detractors. Some numbskull from "The Truth about Scientology" was trying to show what a large (60%) number of students fail to return for any subsequent tutelage, myself included. So, now she's "outed" me as a member of something to which I do not belong, ascribe, subscribe or prescribe, and any time someone does a little research on me, they will have a false impression. It would be like you assuming that just because the ad co. placed Christian banners on my blog, that I am a Bible thumper. There, justice is served. Well done, Nikki at "The Truth." Jesus is not my Lord and Savior, L Ron is not my co-pilot, and I did not inhale, nor did I have sexual relations with that woman!

This actually almost cost me the formation my last relationship. When we'd just started dating, the fellow in question uncovered this fact in just the way I've mentioned, and had great reservation about pursuing anything further. Of course, he was a total fucking hypocrite, as he had done quite a turn with the fine folks at Landmark Education, which took over where Est left off.

7) I've tired of talking about me, me, me. Naw, scratch that one.

8) Early onset Alzheimer's.

9) Five years in Los Angeles.