Too much with myself, Don't wanna be someone else...

So on my fan page on facebook, there is a discussion of what I should write about. Y'all should comment on things I should write about there, if there's anything you wanna hear my "unique" views on. Anyway, so far there's only one response.

"Love.. Dude Write about love. Shakespeare is long passed on
but his writing increases in popularity every day.. Cheers"

So be it. I am going to write about love tonight. Lucky for all of us, I happen to have a lot of experience in this topic (just kidding!), so this is going to be very educational for everyone.

First of all, I guess I should say what love means to me. And from my limited experience with it, I'd say it means putting up with someone in spite of their faults, or even because of their faults. Maybe not. Maybe that has nothing to do with it. Eh, who am I trying to kid? I don't know anything about love. At least, not that I can express with words. Maybe one day, but not tonight.

Look forward to another blog in the near future where I talk about something else I don't understand.

Yeah!!!!!!!!!!!!!

New blog tonight! Or tomorrow! High fives all around!

Oh The Heart Beats In Its Cage

Yeah, this is all you're getting tonight. Maybe I'll blog a bit from the road, but I got nothing right now.

If notthing else, I'll be back on the 17th, with pictures. You kids keep it real, or I will fight you.

A Promise.

Dear Friends,

Recently there has been some concern about the amount of times a certain B. Vilanch has come up in conversations with, well, just about everyone I've come across over the last few years. Now, some people have accused me of being grossly obsessed, and some people (I'm looking at you, lawyers of the aforementioned B. Vilanch) have accused me of harrassment and stalking. It should never have come to this, but I feel I should make one thing clear:

I am not obsessed with Bruce Vilanch, nor am I stalking him.

There. I hope we're all satisfied now. When I was talking to you, Blake, and I went off on what you deemed "a crazy tangent that is a sure sign of mental illness" about what would happen if you fathered an alien version of Bruce Vilanch's child, whether you'd marry said alien, or dodge child support, I was merely posing a question of ethics. I could have mentioned anyone else, perhaps an alien resembling Charles Nelson Reilly, and it would have gone without such a remark. And when I spoke to you, dear Mother, and I mentioned wouldn't it be nice if we all had the soul and body of Bruce Vilanch, and how if he died I'd find a way to clone him, or make every effort to carry his legacy on, you spoke of disowning me, or at least taking me out of your will. Why? Why, I ask of you? How has Bruce Vilanch ever wronged you?

But nevertheless, the world is as it is, and I have been asked never to speak of Bruce Vilanch again. I have been asked by friends, family, colleagues, acquaintances, strangers, and the lawyers of Mr. Vilanch, and I shall respect this request from henceforth. This is one name you'll never hear escape my lips, or witness my pen write from hereafter. My apologies to those who feel I have scared them or wronged them.

Much Love,

Gregory S. Orme, Ph.D.

So Far Today I Have Nothing To Say

So watch this video of Mission Of Burma playing hit number one song: "That's When I Reach For My Revolver."