Mr. Cope's Cave: To Whom it May Concern


And what will you expect to see in this blog?

Wait. Hold on. Question. Should I say “Hello” first? You know, before I just jump in and start paddling. I mean, this blogging crud all feels a little like I’m writing a letter to somebody I don’t know. Maybe I should start off with “Dear sirs,” or “To whom it may concern.”

The thing is, I’d like to make this experience feel like a warm, cozy place where friends can drop in anytime and sit a spell, know what I mean? Sort of like Badger’s den in The Wind in the Willows, with a cheery fire going and some hot cocoa simmering on the stove. Only, I do all the talking, and whenever I feel the need to call someone an ignorant, evil, dog-humping excuse for a human being, you all nod your heads knowingly and mutter, “ You got that right, brother Bill.”

For instance, take Ted Cruz. If there ever was an ignorant, evil, dog-humping excuse for a human being, it’s gotta be... uh, perhaps this isn’t the time for this particular discussion. I’m still trying to establish the tone and timbre of this blog, and maybe I should keep to myself my attitudes toward the repulsive fascists who are bringing this grand land of ours down. At least until we get to know one another a little better, okee-doke? So forget what I was saying about Cruz for now. There’s plenty of time for that later.

So anyway, what will you expect to see in this blog? Maybe it would be easier to say what you will not be seeing in this blog. I am not writing in my diary here, so you will not be seeing what I had for breakfast this morning, or that I found some awesome shoes at Macy’s, or that I had the most scrum-dilly-icious cheese cake when I met my BFF for lunch, or that I’m—as we speak—wearing the George Clooney underwear my wife got me last Valentine’s Day, or what’s on my bucket list, or that I admit to having anything as trite as a “bucket list,” or that I just saw the cutest kitten ever on Youtube and here’s the link to where you can see it, too.

In fact, you will see no links to other websites whatsoever. When I agreed to do this blog, I swore that if I had to resort to what other people were writing, or other pictures they were taking, or other films or jokes or anything they were making, then screw it. What’s the point?

You will also not be seeing the same stuff I write into my weekly column. I hope. Which brings up one of the other reasons I have resisted doing a blog for so long. You see, I fear there’s only so much opinionizing in me, and that if I use it up in this blog thing, I won’t have any left over for the printed column—or visa versa. And if I run dry and have to resort to using the same thoughts in both places, the blog and the column, then again... screw it. What’s the point?

Frankly, I’m still not sure what I’m going to do to fill this space. What I’m hoping for is that every couple of days I have a bright thought that is too small for a 1,000-word column, but too big to keep to myself. I’m also hoping that much of what I say here is funny, but of course you will be the judge of that.

(For instance, with the the previous night’s episode of my favorite teevee series still fresh in my mind, I had to go to one of our local Walmarts to pick up some pills. While trying in vain to get around a shambling shopper pushing her cart through the narrow aisle as if she were idling a 47-foot RV through Yosemite Park and looking everywhere but where she was going, it occurred to me that a Walmart Superstore would be an ideal—and apropos—setting for a scene in The Walking Dead. “They wouldn’t even have to hire extras,” I said to my wife. “They could just set a camera up and turn it on.” She thought it was funny, whether you did or not.)

And maybe, I guess, this is what this bloggy spot will amount to: tid-bits and random thinkings, brain flashes and poignant moments, all put to the task of promoting Art, Beauty, Democracy, Justice, Nature, Spirituality and, of course, Myself, while at the same time allowing me another forum in which to bitch about all the things I don’t like.

Enough for today. This is William, last survivor of the starship Nostromo, signing off.

(I have waited almost 40 years to say that—This is William, last survivor of the starship Nostromo, signing off. Unfortunately, now that I’ve done it, the experience wasn’t as satisfying as I was hoping it would be.)