Surprise, surprise: I’ve launched yet another blog, “Confessions of a Cold War Veteran.”
Part memoir, part humor/satire, part pop-culture, and like our government’s annual budget — 50 percent Military Industrial Complex.
And from the ashes of the Cold War, Confessions of a Cold War Veteran rises
Delay cadence/Count cadence/Delay cadence/Count!
One!…
I confess, dear Civilian, I am not a Catholic nor am I a war veteran, rather I am a veteran of the Cold War, not to mention a narcissist. Regarding the latter, why else would I create my own blog, the fifth to date? If I weren’t narcissistic, I wouldn’t be able to convince myself that there is some niche of readers floating in Cyberland who gives a damn about me and what I have to say or what thoughts are trip-wired in my brain, especially when the primary subject is Me.
Hey everyone, look at me! Over here, look at me…!
Or maybe the niche I have created is a mere figment of my imagination that consists of an audience of one? In that case, please do excuse me, dear Civilian, if at times you catch me talking to myself; the theory being that if you cannot hold a conversation with yourself, the notion of carrying on a conversation with fellow members of your species is futile. At least that’s what Therapist Bob tells me. Speaking of whom, it was Therapist Bob, my psychological and spiritual and financial adviser, who recommended that I start yet another blog as a means of publicly purging my experiences while actively serving in the Army during the tail-end of the Cold War during the late ‘80s, thus tearing down the wall erected between the right and left sides of my brain.
Moreover, based on Therapist Bob’s recommendations, Confessions of a Cold War Veteran will provide me with a safe, nuclear-free space to share my insights as a Cold War Veteran on contemporary issues, military and otherwise.
Hence, a blog was born: Confessions of a Cold War Veteran…
Read rest of debut post at Confessions of a Cold War Veteran and don’t forget to bookmark page and tell all of your friends, your IRS agent and the neighbor down the street who is described as a quiet, lonely man who keeps to himself (but does not live in his mother’s basement, where he spends his waking hours blogging).
Say Something Funny 