...Notify the Affiliates, We're Going Long

I was just about to sit down and write this when I was interrupted by my oldest son who just now said to me (and I am not making this up): "Dad, there's something wrong with my private. [ed. note: that's his little euphemism for... you know, his junk. No idea why it ranks so low; we can only hope it one day merits a promotion to corporal, or even sergeant. A dad can dream.] Usually [he said] I can move it upwards without using my hands and now for some reason I can't."

I am a father of three boys. This qualifies as a crisis in my house.

What does one say to that, you might ask? I don't know. I said "Does it hurt?" He assures me no, it does not. OK, let's wait it out. At least we know it's not gonorrhea.

* * * *

This is the day and the time to be a blogger, right before an election. Totally unprompted and unsolicited, I have been considering possible outcomes and the Great Cultural Meaning of tomorrow's events and I offer the following observation by way of analysis:

If tomorrow things go the way they are now projected, if you are a young, unattached Democrat, passably good looking (or, really, just not deformed) with baseline personal hygiene habits, and you are in Chicago tomorrow night, and you cannot get laid? Get thee to a nunnery. Get thee to a monestary.

Sew it shut. Tie it in a not. Whatever is genitally relevant for you. If after the catastrophic blue-balls result of the Kerry campaign, followed by the four-year Sting-like tantric denial of endorphin release finally erupts and you are within 25 miles of the pheremonic ground zero of Grant Park and you still cannot close the deal, then it's time to turn the sign over from "Yes, we're open" to "Sorry, we're closed" and consider a life of silent meditation.

It's isn't health care or the graduated income tax, but it's what struck me.

Anyway, there's so much more where that came from!

I would like to announce that tomorrow evening, starting roughly at 4 Pacific/7 Eastern, I will be, for the first time ever in the history of Me, liveblogging Election Night.

Yes, that's right! Be here and refresh refresh refresh while I infotain you all with pithy rejoinders and incisive insight! If it goes at all like I think it will, you all should be able to practically taste the flop sweat by about 4:30.

It's going to be fast and furious. I'm thinking maybe 4 to 6 updates in 8 hours, something like that.

OK, yeah, not that intense, but the wife is out of town and, let's be honest, this is a blog with single-digit readership trying out a concept that was passé in 2003.

Mark you calendars!

See you here tomorrow night!

Unless I'm late!

Or I forget!