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Archive for the month “July, 2015”


Maybe I should put up those signs they put around construction sites so people don’t fall into the holes Eddie Excavator dug, but Denny Dumptruck was too sleepy to fill in. (My six-year-old has a lot of construction books.)

Assuming you’re not lying in a battered, bloody heap at the bottom of the blog pit unable to form coherent thought, you’ve probably noticed a lack of new content in this space for a while – a crater in the landscape of knowledge I impart here on a regular basis. There’s a couple reasons for this:

Here’s one:


His name is Charlie. He’s an eight-month-old horse lab mix. He’s very well behaved when not punching through doors. The cats are pissed.

Here’s another:


I recently attended the Midwest Writers Conference at Ball State in Indiana. This is an excellent mix of workshops, panels and just general writing inspiration for writers and writing professionals from newbie to veteran. I came away with a whole new perspective on a thing I’ve been writing and am really busy right now rewriting. Which brings me to another thing:

Blogging might continue to be light for a while. I’ve got a number of exciting things in the works that are demanding my time. But don’t go away! Watch for the flashing lights around this site. One day soon, Earl the Flatulent Blog-Road Opener will shuffle out from the trailer to tell you we’re open for business again. In the meantime, enjoy the archives and, of course, look for me @carnivalofglee on Twitter.


I stand here – Well, standing is an overstatement, isn’t? I lie here pinned under the weight of America’s recent dramatic upheavals over Obamacare and same sex marriage. The pillars of our democracy are crumbling under our feet. Oh, wait, that’s just dirt. It’s filthy around here. Seriously, doesn’t anybody clean anymore?

It’s been a momentous couple weeks. America had a lot to be proud of – not the Kardashians, we should still be ashamed about that – in the run up to this year’s Independence Day. Hot dogs for everyone! Except vegetarians. And picky eaters. And anyone, really. Seriously, you ever thought about what’s really in a hot dog?

So we were feeling pretty good for a while. Confident. Proud of ourselves. A little cocky even. But then…

Independence Day came.

And you screwed up, didn’t you?

Come on, you know what you did. Time to ‘fess up. It’s the America way.

I’m sorry about the fireworks display. Everyone does fireworks after dark. I thought sunrise fireworks would be awesome. Excuse me for trying something new.

I’m sorry I stabbed you in the foot with a spork. I really do believe Aaron Burr was a way cooler founding father than John Hancock. I just get too passionate about it sometimes.

I’m sorry I complained that your s’mores marshmallows were inferior. I admit that someone chanting “don’t give me s’more, give me s’less” over and over could get a little annoying.

I’m sorry you didn’t like the tri-corner hat I wore to your Independence Day party. I spent a lot of time on it and didn’t have time to finish the rest of the costume. Which is why I showed up naked.

I’m sorry about the potato salad. There wasn’t anything wrong with it. It was normal potato salad. And, as we all know, potato salad is gross. I don’t know what I was thinking.

I’m sorry I suggested drinking a beer for every state in the union. Excuuuuusee me for being patriotic. You know, when you wake up.

I really hope the Supreme Court does something else awesome quick to provide some cover for me.


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