Tonight we were going to focus The Laser Beam of Truth on that last beaut from Bad Poetry Corner. But let's do that another time. Why put it off? Because I can.

I was recently reminded that while you can't, or at least shouldn't, judge a book by its cover, sometimes you can judge a product by its title.

I once found a Christian group called "Mercy River" in the discount bin at my local bookstore. OK, so the group was not actually ensconced in the bin. It was one of their CDs.

I picked up the CD and casually scoured for anythig remotely interesting. I was about to put the disk down when a near life-changing title caught my eye:

The song was called "Elvis has left the Building; Jesus is coming soon."

I just had to buy me that CD. It was not only a great title but the song fulfilled its promise. It's nice when life works out like that. Best $5 I ever spent.

Of course, one tangent often begets another. So you may find this site as amusing as I did. The focus is on Elvis' cup. For the squeamish among The Three of You let me assure you The King was never ever, so far as I know, a catcher.

As this space continues to grow on me like the moss on the far side of a stone in County Cork, I have begun to realize already I will be needing some time away to refresh the spirit and recharge the ol' EverReadys.

So for the next little while I plan to post Monday through Friday, taking the weekend for myself. Normally I'd just write or rest whenever I felt like it. But now that I've made myself a public figure, despite overwhelming demand, I feel a certain obligation to The Three of You who, rightly or wrongly, have come to rely on my wisdom a bit more than is healthy, wealthy or wise.

Right now it's just for a couple weeks. A trial separation of sorts. During this period of adjustment, I think it would be a good idea for each of us to read other bloggers. Now, hold on. Doesn't have to be anything serious. But it wouldn't hurt either of us to take stock of the fact there are other blogs in the sphere.

Please don't make this harder than it has to be. Look--it's not YOU. It's ME. I need a little break, that's all. And Monday is not that far away. Time apart could actually be healthy for our relationship if we allow it. A transitional period leading to a time of major growth.

Now give me a smile. . . gimme a big one . . . let's see those pearlies . . . c'mon . . . c'mon . . . ah, I saw that lip curl. Yes I did. I saw you sm--theeerrre you go. There's the Faithful Reader I've come to know and love.

And to keep the momentum rolling in a a positive direction, I found a very fun gadget on the web I want you to check out. It's one of those items sure to bring a smile to your face. I'll bet you anything within 30 seconds you'll be slapping your forehead, chiding yourself, "Why didn't I think of that million dollar idea?"

And the reason, Dear Reader, may be that you spend too much time loitering at and obsessing about GENTLEMEN PREFER BLOGS. Not that I don't appreciate the attention. But can The Wild Flowers thrive in the shadow of The Tall Oak? Well, OK, yes they can. But I think you get my point.

I still can't get the linking tools to work correctly through my browser, so you'll have to cut and paste the URL. Believe it or not, this is the only means the early pioneers had of navigating from page to page. Even then they relied on Indian guides. And they didn't have broadband either. But enough of the horror stories.

I promise, this little diversion is worth the effort. [ http://www.dvdrewinder.com/ ]

Meantime, I'll see you all back here Monday and we'll have great stories to share. Now get out of here y'knuckleheads. . . . I mean it now . . . before one of us starts to cry . . .

Sometimes it's funny how things work out.

Yesterday I was concerned whether or not I would be able to maintain a posting schedule. Internet access is something we just take for granted anymore. But I was heading off to a cold, strange world where the telephone would be the cheapest form of communication.

I check into my room at the still-undisclosed location over hill and dale and scour the place for perks. No microwave. No mini-fridge. Just a coffee-maker for a guy who takes his caffeine with bubbles and an ironing board for a married man who thinks an iron makes a really good door stop.

As I empty the books from my travel bag and begin setting up The PowerBook, I see something over on the desk next to the ice bucket, the hanging breakfast order card and the binder describing, in more detail than anyone could possibly be interested, the ammenities offered by this fine establishment.

It's a modem.

I move closer.

It's a high speed modem.

Temptation begins its primal belly dance. "How much?" I am thinking as I move toward the Guest Services binder. Access can be expensive in the wilderness. As much as $20 per hour in some climates.

So when I see the price I can hardly believe it. "We offer complimentary high speed internet access for our valued guests" reads the suddenly inspiring treatise on all things remotely hotelish.

I immediately shoot off emails to The Ten Year Old, the Teenager and The Wife. Then I unpack and delve with gusto into my afternoon siesta. I am nothing if not a man with complex priorities.

Upon waking, I was sure it had been a dream. I mean, free internet access in an industry that nickles and dimes their guests for local calls. But the ethernet cable was still connected. The green light flickered as I jump-started my browser. It was no delusion. Oh, Auntie Em. There's no place like Cyberspace!

I called The Wife to check in. Let her know the shuttlecraft survived the trip mere light years away. She had a fairly difficult day and will likely continue in that mode until I return from this writing retreat. She told me she was just finishing an email to me. She paused 30 seconds while it was sent.

We live in a crazy world, I know. But I find it amazing that men call their spouses from the video store to finalize movie selections and wives shoot off emails to husbands while listening to their voices bounce off a satellite.

There is work to be done now. Thousands upon thousands of keys must be pressed in precisely the correct sequence in order for the Empire to survive. And work I shall until the sweat from my brow blinds me in its salty splendor.

I will also be able to keep my posting date with The Three of You. And at no cost to the taxpayers of my home planet.

Sometimes it's funny how things work out.

I was surfing the web tonight and, for no apparent reason, I found myself typing "boring.com" into the URL portion of my browser.

I expected to find content that was either dull, lifeless, or listless. Possibly all three.

What I found was the home page of Boring Business Systems of Lakeland Florida.

What an odd, potentially counter-productive name for a company one might think. And one might be right. What possible motive could these mavens of printers, photocopiers and computer networking have to dig this P.R. nightmare of a hole and just crawl in after it?

Then I look over in the right hand margin and see the President and possibly Founder of the company. His name, dear reader, is Dean Boring.

Now let's assume for a minute the decidedly unexciting Mr. B. went to public school for 12 years and to college for at least 4. That's 16 years of guys cupping their hands to their mouths like a megaphone and shouting down the hall, "Hey Dean (pause here for faux comic effect) you're boring!"

Wouldn't you think after all that time spent on the wrong end of a running gag that when he finally crawled out of his hole of shame and scraped together enough cash for a business license that he'd take a moment to consider all the ramifications of using the family name?

No, not our stoic Mr. B. Leave it to someone else to start Dean's Business Machines. This fine fellow, it would seem, stands tall at the family reunion every five years. Even if the event continually has "Boring" written all over it.

http://www.boring.com/