My raison d'etre (or, it's hard to be poignant at 7:22 am)

Oh, the humanity: another bloody blog. Oh, the bureaucracy! That's my title and I'm stickin' to it.

One of the cats woke me up at 5:13 this morning. And I couldn't get back to sleep. I had a proverbial bee in my bonnet. I was already hot and irritable enough all night, what with this global top-browning related heat wave and way too much coffee the night before. So I know I shouldn't be doing something like this, at least not at this ungodly hour and nowhere near properly caffeinated. Already I'm thinking I'm probably going to regret the unfortunate choice of entry title, for instance.

Even more likely, I'll regret the blog title. Maybe even the whole damn blog idea. Oh well. Good thing they're free, eh?* While we're at it, hooray for ephemera too.

But it happened. While plunging headlong into Moore's chasm, caught squarely (as usual) between the early adopters and the early majority, I finally -- if somewhat reluctantly -- decided to pry the white picket fenceposts out of my butt, mix a few metaphors, and join the blogosphere. I say reluctantly because most days I imagine the world already too full of people like me who are too full of themselves.

Be that as it may, I've suffered one too many "mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore" moments lately and I reckoned a blog was the perfect outlet for my pent-up frustration -- because, hey, in the blogosphere no one can hear you scream but you can still cling to the delusion that it makes some sort of difference and that someone else gives a rat's buttocks in the first place. (Besides, an imminent transatlantic move makes blogging the most convenient, efficient way to keeping in touch with friends, colleagues and family. Hi, mom.)

Despite -- or perhaps because of -- the fact that I've misspent most of my adult life making other people famous, I find the notion of going quasi-public with a blog strangely disturbing. Then again, I can more or less choose my preferred level of anonymity, a luxury that many of my former clients never had. But like some of them this blog may also eventually disappear in a massive wave of public indifference, dragged under by the sheer weight of its own self-importance. But I digress. (Frequently.) You have been warned.

More on the future move and my sordid past in future posts. Back to the reason I feel justified in contributing to the blogosmog:

I was partially inspired by the fellow who had the good sense to tape his conversation with the AOL (ahem) "customer service" rep and then post it on the web, warts 'n' all. I admire his inventiveness and, more importantly, I celebrate his result. Revenge, apparently, is a dish best served cold... and is not just for breakfast anymore. But for various political & professional reasons -- I'm a longtime PR/marketing weasel currently in recovery mode, mostly teaching the world's third oldest profession to impressionable young adults -- I dared not post anything on my "real" site and/or blog that might one day bounce back to bite me in the nether regions. Ergo this blog, my very own private room for rant, which trainspotters will note was the title of my very first blog before I even knew the word existed. That was 'way back at the turn of the century, circa 1999.

In other words, Oh, the Bureacracy! is a mostly harmless way to vent spleen. And vent we shall. Wayward insurance brokers, telecommunications service providers and elected public servants, take heed.

(*Gripe #1 is the fact that it always takes 437 tries to find a username that: A. I can remember, and B. isn't already in use, and C. doesn't make me want to gouge my own eyes out with a rusty spoon. I guess that's the price I pay for being completely oblivious to anything remotely fashionable. )

Speaking of chronically short attention spans, I'm too easily distracted to focus on any one subject for long so this probably won't wind up being yet another endless series of tilts against the usual windmills. At least I hope not. (I once foolishly thought that I would grow more patient with age, but I'm not. Apparently I'm getting far less tolerant of crap as the minutes tick by.) Perhaps I'm just becoming the curmudgeon I've always aspired to be.

Or maybe I just need more coffee.

Back soon -- right now I've got a score to settle with a certain federal telecommunications commission that shall remain nameless.