Somehow, an incredible 64,600 read my last post of 2016. (Yet in this blog's entire history, only 157,800 people have ever viewed any page of the entire blog.) I'm not sure why it was read 64,600 times, and I'm even less sure how it was that that many came across it, but seizing on such momentum in order to maximize my distinct and oh-so-valuable literary contributions to the world, I have made exactly one post in the 10 months since then, a post read by exactly 35 people.
So back at it this week then, with what I hope will be a series of posts coming from notes I've taken, often after a beer or three that I've memo-ed to myself into my phone, usually while down on our pool patio late into the evening while amongst friends, that will hopefully still make sense when I read them again fully sober. If not, I'll post them anyway, in case anyone chooses to read them after they've had enough beverages that maybe makes them more understandable. More understandable that is, than those last few sentences.
So my first post-worthy observation is simply this:
I wonder if the PTBs (powers that be) at the company Big Lots have mandated that every store manager, as his or her very first priority every morning when they come into work, check to make sure that the letter L hasn't fallen off their store sign during the night:
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