I have nothing pithy, witty, or thought-provoking to say. Should I say anything at all? Or should I just let my blog sit silent for another day? Random ridiculous ideas, notions and whatnot usually pop into my head on a fairly regular basis, but I’ve had nothing of the sort for the last 96 hours. As you can see, my last post was just a few scraps left from the feast of absurdity that usually is happening in my mind. (I hereby copyright the phrase “feast of absurdity in my mind.” That was a great turn of phrase, wasn’t it?) Today, nothing. Is this it? Am I tapped out? Has what I once thought to be a bottomless well of silliness run dry? Do I have a tumor that has slowly been eating the part of my brain responsible for idiocy? That could be both a blessing and a curse for me. I don’t have writer’s block. I’m writing other things elsewhere, I just can’t think of anything funny here today. I have humor block. So, I decided I would write anyway. It’s like driving at night with my headlights off hoping I find the road. Please don’t leave my blog for good though. I may become inspired once again soon. And besides, if you don’t come back, the rest of us will make fun of you in the comments.
Self-proclaimed grand poobah of leisure and author of humorous suspense novels The Sneaker Tree & White Picket Prisons, the humor essay book Fifty Shades of Phil and the long running blog The Phil Factor. thephilfactor.com
- @Estella60337614 That’s too bad. I thought it was based on an old series by the same name 23 hours ago
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