Listen.
Matt is working hard (apparently for all the right reasons) but is not terribly available for fun. So please, drop him a short line to brighten his day. I know he always lights up a little when I call him "My Little Buckaroo."

Go ahead send him an inspiring email!

Oh! Who Am I? Uh..., why am I here?

Damn uppity newcomers. I've been putting free form text on the web since I got my first account. It was 1995 and I hated the world, or at least Philadelphia. Had to type it in HTML using a terminal, running pico off a very slow vax box. You couldn't cut and paste into it because the modem line couldn't take that much data at once. I managed to do it, albeit very sporadically, and usually while under the influence. Some day I'll root around in my old drive and resurrect the things.

And then these damn articulate and prolific kids go and do it one (or more) step(s) better. I've never been the finely tuned social barometer that Matty Cakes has become, preferring to wax prosaic over the homesick details of my mostly self-absorbed life. Even Josh got up on his little soapbox for a while there, so what if the links to "Flying Cat," and "Glass Doors" are not functional. One of my first inspirations was Tess, who has faithfully slogged through every little piece of tripe I've uploaded since the mid-1990's, which I have to tell you has not been much. I've since forgotten who introduced me to Greg's site, but I wouldn't have gotten through med school without it, or perhaps it was the proximity of Cherry Hill, New Jersey, home of cheap gas and cheaper alcohol, who can tell?

So blogging has been around like, you know, forever and stuff. If you ask very politely I'll try to find my entry that gushes about "Hammy's," the offshoot of my college cafeteria. Oh! The nostalgia!