I need to not write about people... ever

I think my blog has about three regular readers. It started with maybe two. Unfortunately, my big mouth sometimes does an unintentional plug which usually results in the dreaded question, "You have a blog? Where?"

This, my three (maybe now four) faithful readers, is a problem. Because usually, when I mention people on this blog, there can be only two reasons:

1. I voice complaints about said persons. Strongly.

2. I express awe at their physical... physicalities. Strongly.

Clearly, nobody wants to be on the receiving end of either reason. Or read a not-so-blind item about himself or herself in some crazy person's blog. So... from now... my mouth is shut.

Newest obsession: FLIGHT OF THE CONCHORDS

(Scheisse. I'm doing it again...)

-----

Update: Yet another inquiry tonight. I just realized that every time an additional person finds out about this thing, a little piece of my already withered soul dies. Or at least becomes... un-mine. (Like that belief of the aboriginal tribes that Matilda references to Derek.) Because then I start censoring myself a little more. Hence, ye olde original readers, I must hold ye in the highest regard.