Centurion

It's my 100th blog post, and I was originally going to do something big and whacky to celebrate. Unfortunately, however, it's fallen on a Wednesday, and this molded plastic seat on the train isn't the optimum research environment.

It did, however, get me thinking. Normally, a hundred would be a rather large milestone. If these were episodes of a weekly show, it would mark my fourth year (or perhaps twentieth on the BBC). This is not, however, a sitcom. Though I do love to entertain, I have every sincere hope that my handful of readers take something away from the gibberish posted here. I do aim to educate and enlighten as well.

That being said, what is the big one-double-zero actually marking for me? I have no intention of stopping. It's only just recently (in the past few months) that I've been posting with some regularity Monday through Friday. Even my wife approves, and trust me, she approves of very little (she's Irish).

I guess what I'm trying to say is: I'm just getting started. These past hundred tirades have flown by, and I'm sure the next hundred will as well (or however many I can pump out before men in black suits, Ray Bans, and earpieces knock on my door).

There is way too much out there to be amused, entertained, and incensed by for one hundred to even leave a blemish. I intend to leave a dent.

We've got the second cold war already started with NoKo, a new prada-wearing pedophile at the seat of the holy kiddie-touching empire, several billion christians that need persecuting (and we Atheists are vastly outnumbered), equality to demand, lies to see through, and celebrities to not give half a stale fuck about.

I guess what I'm trying to say is:

Buckle up, bitches.