Pale Force

Let me introduce myself, young bloggywogs. My name is Ryan. I hope to help Dan emerge from his cocoon of hardened exoskeletal baggage and self-fulfilling mediocrity (perhaps, blogosphere, you can identify). Meanwhile, Dan will cheerfully lambaste me with devastating, relentless criticism of my voluntary purgatory of unconvincing platitudinous empathy. Let me tell you sometin' about ol' Dan: he's a thinking man's man, and he doesn't want to hear it, goddamnit. I'm more of the Conan O'Brian of the Pale Force mold: a wishy-washin-bed-wettin' sonofabitch, but I got sometin' in here (gestures toward torso), it may not be guts, it may not be a heart 3 sizes too small, but, you know, there's some twisted wiring and maybe a dinged' up computer chip (blazin' away and coughing up smoke) embedded in this body you've found me in. I suppose this venue's only prerequisite is honesty, if not personal, then existential; truth be told I don't know the value of Blogs, but Blog we shall! It requires reading, which I must confess an amateur stance to. I too want to be a writer; so it goes. Perhaps, though, we can all talk about some things we've read, which I do believe writing is all about: rearranging preexisting signs. Dan and I will hopefully accomplish something in this sense of collaborative analysis- we will exercise our notions upon one another: for humor's sake, as a dynamic spectacle, or out of boredom (could you imagine the ultimate creator of the blogosphere having a meaningful career?). Let this experiment in anonymous electronic essence commence!
Let there be no meaningful consequences! God Forbid!