I like to think that, as a blogger, I keep my eye on what's important. Family, home, work, politics, soccer, the Army, religion, liquid soap, friends and relatives, the collected work of Robert Frezza... It's these sorts of things that make life the marvelous cavalcade of change it is. As we pass dreaming through the vales of our lives, each new vista terminating our hopes and dreams in the accession of the new joy or sorrow it reveals, we are challenged to meet these events with all of our spirit, all of our energy, and all of our intellect. As such, I understand the duty of those of us who write for the public to provide an open and honest account of our ideas, beliefs and feelings, to try and write about things that make a difference to others, things that are, well, important.
But suddenly - there's M.C. Nuts.
Is this what the Lake District has come to? Sweet suffering Baby Jesus!
I know my next post was going to be about the Bushies, Iraq and what it means for the rest of us. And I want to and wll get there. But right at the moment all I can think of is that the restless ghost of Beatrix Potter is gonna have somebody's ass for M.C.'s furry Nuts...
Update 4/18 @ 4:30pm: Walternatives and Millicent both had a good observation: what would ol' Bill Wordsworth have thought about the hairy Nutted One?
My thought is: probably a combination of fascinated, appalled and amused.
He was just that kind of guy...