Have you had coffee this morning? That's always a good start. And that yeowling you hear? It's probably time to feed your cat. And if you don't have a cat, slip out of the house and dial 911.
Think of a blog as a coral reef. Build it one layer/post at a time.
Ok, here's a story with no point. I had dinner Tuesday night with several editors from my syndicate who were in town (for a funeral at Arlington Cemetery; the husband of the very kind woman who edits the Mini Page died and as he was a Marine colonel, he got a full-dress, 21 gun salute deal with a band and everything).
So the editors randomly chose a restaurant near their hotel, a place called Il Mulino. It seemed empty but, as we had no reservation, we had to wait a bit. The first thing we noticed was the waitstaff; they wore white tie and there were a lot of them (the waiters, I mean; each had only one white tie visible).
When we were seated and presented with menus the first thing we noticed were the prices, but as the syndicate was paying our shock quickly turned to joy. There followed a procession of waiters, each with one white tie and each bearing a different type of small appetizer thing. A tiny sausage, some kind of relishy stuff, a massive wheel of parmesan off which the waiter carefully picked some bits off for us, etc etc. At one point, just to show off, a waiter came by carrying a large tub of prawns and gave us their whole provenance, just kind of bragging about the prawns (we didn't get any, but they were very nice and seemed to be proud to be in their tub and who wouldn't be?).
So dinner passed like this in a four-hour blur. The restaurant had filled up quickly with well dressed people (though no one topped the white tie) and most of them looked like they were used to such restaurants as this with many of them ordering complicated meals that required several waiters to fix half the food at the table. One man at the next table bore a very close resemblance to Ben Bernanke, it was either him or a Bernanke imitator, who are rife in DC.
By the end of the meal we were the last people there, and after dessert another waiter (who looked exactly like Prince Harry; I doubt he was, but I'm just sayin') brought us a complementary glass of grappa (raspberry infused no less) poured from this huge tank packed in ice. When we finally left, half the staff escorted us outside, telling jokes in various languages all of which were really funny after that grappa and the previous bottle of wine and two beers. The editors poured me into a cab, pressed enough money to get home into my hand, and the next thing I remember I'm typing this thing.
So my plan is, I'm gonna rent a white tie tux, affect an accent, buy some small boxes of crayons and kids' menu type things with the puzzles and dot-to-dots on them, and sneak into Il Mulino and distribute them to the diners when no one's looking, like between the appetizers and the travelling prawn show. Who's with me on this?
Richard, though I hate to see the comment-string snipped, why not convert your last comment into a post. That's where it belongs, and I'll have something to link to.
Otherwise, I'm tempted to steal it and call it my own. Your life as a syndicated cartoonist is more interesting than mine.
And I echo Mark Heath's comments. My last interesting dinner story is about the Muncie Indiana Sirloin Stockade. (Actually, I don't have an interesting story. I just think the name is funny.)
You rotten cur. Here I was, holding back on mentioning your blog because it seemed to be falling into the black hole, the vanishing singularity of comments commenting on comments, not wanting to unveil your words until you made the giant stride to a second post, with perhaps a picture or two, when I see The Daily Cartoonist trumpet the news that Richard Thompson has a blog.
So I come back and find post on post, picture on picture, a blog that reads as if it's been around for years, instead of days.
If you'll excuse me, I have to post yesterday's news that another smart blog has opened its mouth and joined the online world.
16 comments:
Beats me.
Have you had coffee this morning? That's always a good start. And that yeowling you hear? It's probably time to feed your cat. And if you don't have a cat, slip out of the house and dial 911.
Think of a blog as a coral reef. Build it one layer/post at a time.
Hey, maybe instead of posts, I'll just leave comments. It's worked for me so far.
You know, that's just crazy enough to work. If a blog that consists of comments only doesn't get you noticed, nothing will.
By the way, I approve of your linking to Spot the Frog policy. I'm looking forward to returning the favor.
Laziness, sheer laziness. We're not going to be funny for you (unless you pay for jokes).
Per Mike's suggestion, I'll just quote the mostly unfunny copy from this CD on my desk. Ahem. Johnny Cash. 16 Biggest Hits. Columbia.
Has he left?
Perhaps the gushing press release put out today has driven him into hiding?
Or perhaps, since it's actually 9:34, in spite of what the blog claims, he hasn't gotten up yet?
Your blog is already more successful than those of most other cartoonists and it doesn't even have any posts.
Truly impressive (again. tch.).
Hahaha! I hadn't looked here for a day or so, figuring what's the point?, and look what happens. This is easier than I thought.
Be back soon, perhaps with actual content. But really, why bother?
Ok, here's a story with no point. I had dinner Tuesday night with several editors from my syndicate who were in town (for a funeral at Arlington Cemetery; the husband of the very kind woman who edits the Mini Page died and as he was a Marine colonel, he got a full-dress, 21 gun salute deal with a band and everything).
So the editors randomly chose a restaurant near their hotel, a place called Il Mulino. It seemed empty but, as we had no reservation, we had to wait a bit. The first thing we noticed was the waitstaff; they wore white tie and there were a lot of them (the waiters, I mean; each had only one white tie visible).
When we were seated and presented with menus the first thing we noticed were the prices, but as the syndicate was paying our shock quickly turned to joy. There followed a procession of waiters, each with one white tie and each bearing a different type of small appetizer thing. A tiny sausage, some kind of relishy stuff, a massive wheel of parmesan off which the waiter carefully picked some bits off for us, etc etc. At one point, just to show off, a waiter came by carrying a large tub of prawns and gave us their whole provenance, just kind of bragging about the prawns (we didn't get any, but they were very nice and seemed to be proud to be in their tub and who wouldn't be?).
So dinner passed like this in a four-hour blur. The restaurant had filled up quickly with well dressed people (though no one topped the white tie) and most of them looked like they were used to such restaurants as this with many of them ordering complicated meals that required several waiters to fix half the food at the table. One man at the next table bore a very close resemblance to Ben Bernanke, it was either him or a Bernanke imitator, who are rife in DC.
By the end of the meal we were the last people there, and after dessert another waiter (who looked exactly like Prince Harry; I doubt he was, but I'm just sayin') brought us a complementary glass of grappa (raspberry infused no less) poured from this huge tank packed in ice. When we finally left, half the staff escorted us outside, telling jokes in various languages all of which were really funny after that grappa and the previous bottle of wine and two beers. The editors poured me into a cab, pressed enough money to get home into my hand, and the next thing I remember I'm typing this thing.
So my plan is, I'm gonna rent a white tie tux, affect an accent, buy some small boxes of crayons and kids' menu type things with the puzzles and dot-to-dots on them, and sneak into Il Mulino and distribute them to the diners when no one's looking, like between the appetizers and the travelling prawn show. Who's with me on this?
Richard, though I hate to see the comment-string snipped, why not convert your last comment into a post. That's where it belongs, and I'll have something to link to.
Otherwise, I'm tempted to steal it and call it my own. Your life as a syndicated cartoonist is more interesting than mine.
Richard,
Excellent blog! Love the minimalism.
Seriously, welcome, Mr. Thompson.
And I echo Mark Heath's comments. My last interesting dinner story is about the Muncie Indiana Sirloin Stockade. (Actually, I don't have an interesting story. I just think the name is funny.)
All the best,
Scott
You rotten cur. Here I was, holding back on mentioning your blog because it seemed to be falling into the black hole, the vanishing singularity of comments commenting on comments, not wanting to unveil your words until you made the giant stride to a second post, with perhaps a picture or two, when I see The Daily Cartoonist trumpet the news that Richard Thompson has a blog.
So I come back and find post on post, picture on picture, a blog that reads as if it's been around for years, instead of days.
If you'll excuse me, I have to post yesterday's news that another smart blog has opened its mouth and joined the online world.
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