Aldous Huxley With A Bad Attitude?

The brave new world, is it?

With employees of bricks-and-mortar journalism outfits falling from the sky like the Martian spacecraft in War Of The Worlds (not the recent version, I prefer the cheesy, Technicolor, George Pal-produced 1953 movie), short of shouting from the mountaintop, this I suppose is the way to be heard, and to be read.

My moniker--The Semi-Happy Curmudgeon--makes sense, if only to me.  I'm not going to be hip.  I will, however, be timely, and I plan to report on any number of topics that strike my fancy.  Food, writing, entertainment, music, politics, finance, agriculture, sports--frankly, anything that gets blood flowing to all my appendages.  Think of my water glass as half-empty with a slight crack from the top down to the middle.  And as I write, water is poured into the glass with the express purpose of it being filled to the top.  But alas, inevitably the crack takes its toll, the liquid seeps out and the level reverts to its former equilibrium.  Semi-happy, you see.

Oh, a word of warning--if the glass gets knocked over on occasion, run for cover.

Later.