I see you have discovered our little menagerie…

  Howdy, pardners.

Welcome aboard the brand-new Connect Savannah website.

It’s about time.

For all of you faithful readers who have long lamented our peculiar and not particularly user-friendly website of the past few years, allow me to say that those of us who create the majority of the content in our print publication had little to no input on the look, feel or browser compatibility of said site.

We’ve had some measure of input on this new one, however, and I’m told that will continue as the site is expanded upon and improved. It’s a work in progress, so bear with us.

At least it doesn’t look like an explosion in a pizza factory anymore.

One of the new attributes of this site will be these Editors’ Blogs. In theory, you all are supposed to anxiously check here on a daily (or nearly daily) basis to see what new and glistening pearl of wisdom I’ve dropped on the public at large. In theory, I’m supposed to reel you in like a tape measure.

We’ll see how this works in practice as opposed to theory.

Now, for what it’s worth, you may have noticed that the title at the top of this page is rather stupid.

That’s because it was meant as a joke. When my boss asked me what I wanted the title of my blog to be, I replied with what I thought was a chuckle-worthy list of uber-ridiculous names, including:

“Bitch, get DOWN!”

“Loose Shoes, Tight Pussy & A Warm Place To Sleep”

and, “In The Time of My Ruin,” which I was actually quite partial to. That’s why I put it last. You see, the titles got more serious as they went along.

“R U 4 Real” was at the top of my list.

Unbeknownst to me, no one got the joke, and apparently, there’s a lot of back-end cyber-juggling that has to go on now in order to change the handle of my stream of unconsciousness to “In The Time of My Ruin,” none of which is particularly appealing to the cat who’s got to make all this happen. I actually found myself saying “R U 4 Real?” under my breath when informed of this.

Hopefully soon this can be rectified wihtout too much hassle and I won’t feel like I’m running a New Kids On The Block fanpage for too awfully long.

Now, it should go wihtout saying, but in case it does not, I’m new to the blog-tastic technocracy. Please keep in mind that I rarely read blogs, so I’m not at all sure how to approach this new outlet for my witty barbacisms.

I’m sure I’ll make a jackass of myself and say/write/print something I’ll live to regret. Oh well. At least I’m not RUNNING FOR MAYOR.

So whaddya wanna know about me that you might not have gleaned from my weekly articles and occasional opinion pieces in our humble free weekly? Isn’t that the purpose of these blogs - to get more of a feel for someone’s own private bag? The whole thing seems a little distasteful and narcissistic to me, but hey, maintaining this is an official part of my job description as of today, so I’m along for the ride.

I’m 38 years old.

I have only read one complete work of fiction in the past decade.

I see nothing wrong with wearing black socks and dress shoes with shorts.

I think Hello Kitty is extremely cute, but I am not enamored at all with her friends. They seem like hangers-on, and insincere hangers-on at that.

I have very little disposable income, and would gladly spend most of it travelling to see Bob Dylan in concert.

I walk a fine line in about twelve different directions every day that I wake up above ground.

I have found to my eternal shame that I often treat many of my closest friends much worse than I treat complete strangers. It seems that on some level I rationalize this as being acceptable behavior because I feel that I also can be counted on to regularly treat my closest friends far better than I would ever dream of treating a stranger or mild acquaintance. I bet many of you are guilty of the same thing.

My life is in storage. Frank Black said that. It applies to me as well.

I work very hard to make things happen in Savannah that I feel would likely not happen otherwise, like live concerts and cult film screenings. I usually lose money on the film screenings, but lots of folks have told me how much they enjoy them, so I suppose it’s worth it.

People absolutely hate waiting on me because I am usually running late, but I hate waiting on them even more — which is selfish, unfair and (in some measure) outrageous on my part.

My younger brother recently gave me a wonderfully captivating biography of the late, maverick American film director Sam Peckinpah. I started it in the middle and am almost done with it. As soon as I get to the end, I’ll go back and read the first half. Lots of things in the book are confusing because they refer to information and protagonists presented chronologically from the beginning. It was a stupid thing to do, but once I started, I found myself incapable of rectifying the situation.

Your turn.

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