Mr. Cope's Cave: Dead Bats

by

This will be the third attempt in three days to get something written for this goddamn blog. Tuesday morning, I woke up, sat down at the Macintosh, and decided it was time to come out.

Yes, I have some coming out to do. I feel a little guilty I haven’t done it before, but the time wasn’t right, know what I mean?

But the time now is right. It’ll probably never get righter. And I decided I would put it off no longer. By 10 a.m. I had completed a good 1,000 words or so, admitting something about myself I have never admitted in print. In fact, it was so good, I decided then and there it was too good for this blog. I decided it will be a column, instead. I decided I would turn it in next Monday—my deadline for columns—and do my coming out on real paper rather than in a goddamn blog.

Then Wednesday morning, I woke up, sat down at the Macintosh, and started something else. Something I intended at the time to be "Mr. Cope’s Cave" for today. This was the day after the polar vortex had all those talking heads on Fox News spinning. Down to the last dunce, they insisted the cold proved global warming was a hoax, so I wrote a good 1,000 words or so on how unlikely it will be that conservative brains will ever comprehend the intricacies of global warming. And by “intricacies,” I mean things like when it’s winter in America, it’s summer in, say... Australia.

That piece also turned out good, and by noon on Wednesday, I decided it too was too good to waste on a goddamn blog. I not only decided it had to be a column, but that it would have to come before the one I’d written the day before. The one in which I came out. I decided that me coming out was not as relevant or time-sensitive as Fox News idiots being idiots.

So come Monday, I will hand in that one and save the coming out one for later. After all, it doesn’t matter when I come out, does it? Not as long as I do it... eventually?

But as you can see, by Thursday morning I still had the problem of what to do for this goddamn blog. Listen, when I agreed to do this, I also agreed to do it every Monday and every Friday. Not just any old Monday or any old Friday. Not just hit or miss, comme ci comme ca, when I felt like it and screw it if I didn’t.

No. I made a commitment, and when I make a commitment, I stick to it. That’s just the kind of guy I am. That’s the way I roll. That’s, uh... well, you know... the kind of guy I am.

Of course, the commitment I made hinges on me coming up with something to write about, and by Thursday morning I’d already exhausted a week’s worth of my “something to write about” reserves.

So Thursday morning—an hour or so before I wrote this—I woke up, sat down at the Macintosh, and started on... nothing. I had nothing. Absolutely nothing. Fifteen dry, exasperating minutes later, I got back up, walked over to my Internet-connecting device and surfed the latest news in search of goddamn blog inspiration. Let’s see...

The George Washington Bridge scandal pendulum swings ever closer to Chris Christie’s ample belly. Yeah, fine. But how does that translate into a blog entry, especially before he splits open like a rotten melon and all of his dirty laundry comes spilling out?

Ann Coulter says something outrageously offensive about another black person. Yeah, fine. But how is that news?

Dennis Rodman organizes an exposition news conference to demonstrate what a total ass he is whether he’s in America or North Korea. Yeah, fine. But I don’t do sports.

Hundreds of thousands of bats drop dead from the skies over Queensland, Australia last weekend due to the intense heat wave—110 degrees plus—afflicting that area, even while parts of North America suffer under a blanket of record-breaking cold. There it is! That’s it! That is what I will write about for Friday’s goddamn blog! Oh, the irony! Why didn’t I have this information yesterday when I was writing about this very thing?

But no matter. I’ve got it now. Dead bats, killed by Australia’s hot summer... that right there will be my blog entry. Let’s see... I’ll pad it out with a bunch of blabbing about how I got to this point. I’ll mention the other two columns I wrote this week. I’ll say something about what a committed sort of dude I am. And finally, I’ll get around to mentioning the dead bats. And if anyone asks me what I wrote about for Friday’s goddamn blog, I’ll say “Dead bats.”

All righty, then. I think I’m set for Friday. Now all I have to worry about is Monday’s goddamn blog. Incidentally, it’s possible that the phrase “coming out”—as in “I have some coming out to do”—might be somewhat misleading. Perhaps I should have said “I have some fessing up to do.” Or, “some soul baring to do.” Sorry to disappoint anyone who was thinking that I... well, you know. And sometime in the next few weeks, look for a column I’m calling “Weed Out.”