To Blog Or Not To Blog?

 
"That is the questi...wait.  
What the frik am I doing here?  
I'm a famous playwright.  
And I'm dead."

   I try to take a day or two throughout the week to pay a visit to you all on Blogger.  

    Of course, a few of you follow me on Facebook or Instagram, so you have that going for you.  We call you "Gluttons For Punishment."  Others?  We interact here on Blogger.  We call you the "Lucky Ones."

    Yesterday I read a post from one of the aforementioned "Lucky
"That's what I was going to say.  Hater."
Ones."  I won't mention her name (well, okay, the fact that I said she was a "she" pretty much eliminates half the population.  Although....in this day and age of gender confusion, did it?).


 
"Before shoes?  Interesting.  Go on."
   
    Anyway, anyone with rudimentary detective skills (or knows to put on socks before shoes) can probably figure out who this post came from.

    She was wondering whether to do a podcast to get her message out.  It's a very important message (nothing like the empty-calories crap you'll find here), so I told her that she should go for it.

    But, another thing upon which she puzzled is whether blogging is becoming more passe with the passage of time.  Maybe, she opined, sites like Blogger are giving way to newer, more hip platforms.

    I have to admit that I've wondered the same thing, especially since I've returned to (semi) regularly posting here.

    Over the past several months, I've written/posted elsewhere.  I've
I'm what you would call a "literary playa," yo.
been a regular (some would say too much) on Facebook (itself being accused of being passed by) both as "Kenneth Charles" and "Al Penwasser" (just can't get rid of Al, can I?).  


    



    I've also been active on Instagram (which often links back to
"Don't forget CHINA!!"
Facebook) and on Twitter (quite often, a veritable cesspool of snarky commentary, left, right, and Donald Trump).


    One thing I've enjoyed doing is creating videos which I post on Facebook Sundays at 6:00.  I certainly don't get paid for these (nor should I), but they're fun.

    You may start to see these here.



I repeat-none of them are bestsellers.  
This is why I do what I do.
    All this, and I continue to write.  I'm up to six books now and have plans for several more.  None of them are bestsellers, mind you.  Still, I like writing them.

    My point, IS blogging going the way of the typewriter, BETA VCR, MySpace, blacksmiths, and ethics in government?  

    I have no plans on stopping blogging again, although my footprint will be reduced (you may have noticed this already, thinking, "Oh, thank God!!)?  I may even see about doing the A-Z Challenge again (do we still do that?).  

    You'll probably see more duplication of effort here, especially if you follow me elsewhere, but I'll still be around.

    But, know this...the high quality nonsense you've come to expect from this blog will never change.

    I'm still waiting for a "Blog of Note" award, after all (do they still do that anymore?).
 

New Comedy Gold

"I am therefore introducing a bill in Congress, after I get my hair 
and nails done, which I call the 
'Emergency Services Happy Face Act.'  
No one in our socialist country democracy should 
suffer needless anxiety searching for '11' on their phone's
 keyboard when dialing '911.'  
THIS MUST END!!"


"Wow.  what a moro...oops, is my fly down?"

This Is Why I'm Going To Purgatory

"Okay, we get it already!  You had a tough year!!  Move on!!!


   The past year was fraught was drama, stress, and anxiety.  Having to deal with the aforementioned drama, stress, and anxiety took up time which could have been devoted to other, less excruciating, pursuits.  What made things worse was the fact that the vast majority of my ills were self-induced.  Some of you out there know what I'm talking about.  Some of you don't.  In any case, I won't go into the whole story here.  Blah, blah, blah, enough already, right?

    You're welcome.

    Even though my life was topsy-turvy over the past fifteen months, I managed to keep writing, albeit at a much slower rate.  I cut back on Facebook, stopped writing my blog (Penwasser Place-some of you may have heard of it), but continued to slog away on the two books I was writing.
"And we appreciated it.  Right, Joe?"
    
"Did I forget to put on pants again?  
My legs feel cold."

    However, as time went on and emotional wounds started to scar
"Eff."
over, I began to find my "funny" again and began ramping up the pace of reaching out to people like yourselves.  I hit Facebook full-force, returned to Twitter, and, obviously, began another blog.  I haven't gotten fully back to speed (especially here), but things are returning to normal.


    I'm also happy to report that, after significant delays, I've published books number five and six.

   
Thank goodness someone wrote it with me.
Someone had to keep me under control
The first, I'll Make Christmas:  A Love Story, is a little different than my usual scribblings.  Written in collaboration with his widow, Joni, it's a collection of journal entries my stepfather, Ray, made as he struggled through the last year or so of his life before succumbing to cancer in 1996.  Very rarely goofy (I told you it was different), I was overwhelmed with sadness as I wrote it.  At the same time, my heart overflowed with love when I thought about how fortunate that I was that he was part of our family.


    I'm pretty proud of it, but I had to return to the silly.

    The second one, St. Stan's: Tales From the Penguin Academy, is
I'm proud to report that I was able
 to afford page numbers this time.  
And verbs.
a story that I've been threatening promising for several years.  Set in a Catholic School in Stratford, Connecticut in 1969, it's the prequel to Shag Carpet Toilet, another story ignored by millions.  I'm very happy with this, both in that I've kept my promise and that it's (what I hope) unbridled nonsense.


    Of course, the only problem is that I've probably extended my stay in Purgatory for another couple hundred years.  

    Nuns never forget.


"Aye, that we don't.  
Knuckles if ye please, boyo."

Hey, Who Turned the Frikkin' Heat Off?

NOTE:   Originally published in 2019, to a couple of you, this may look familiar.  To a couple more of you, this will be new stuff and build...