“Yeah, True Love is the greatest thing in the world,
except for a nice MLT---mutton, lettuce and tomato
sandwich, when the mutton is nice and lean, and the
tomato is ripe. (Makes puckering sound.) They're so
perky. I love that. But that's not what he said---he
distinctly said "To blave" and as we all know, to
blave means to bluff, heh? So you were probably
playing cards, and he cheated—“

“To blog.” For some reason it reminds me of that scene from the Princess Bride with Billy Crystal and Carol Kane. As a word, it has a nice percussive feel. As an entity, it probably only contains a modicum of actual truth. In reality, any writing is a bluff in the best sense. Maybe that’s why Hemingway was so good at it. I hear tell he was a heartfelt braggart and compulsive liar. Even in the realm of non-fiction we perpetually attempt to convince people that we actually know what we’re talking about. Deep down I always hope that someone dwelling in a mild state of fear has written what I’m reading. True experts always feel fraudulent. With zealous confidence comes great error, or some random, overblown tenet or other. So three cheers to the charlatans of knowledge, because if knowledge is infinite then every single person is an accidental charlatan at heart and in the less than immortal words of Operation Ivy… “All I know is that don’t know. All I know is that I don’t know nothing.”

Running with a pair of scissors in hand, I ridiculously welcome myself back to the interweb.