Blogs

Siddown and shuddup.

All of us (most of us?) fancy ourselves to be somewhat gifted writers.  Only some have the incredible chutzpah to put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) and put stuff out there.  With some of these people, it’s hubris that makes them believe people might be interested in reading what they have to say.  There is nothing wrong with hubris, people thinking that they have a good joke to tell account for some of the funniest damn stuff in existence.  Others do it for love or money…look at Hollywood, or any best-selling author.  Then, there’s those of us who just don’t really care about either (although it’d be tremendously cool to have Steven King’s royalties; the first thing I’d do is take a money bath.  And then a real bath, because money’s kind of gross, but it’s the principle of the matter that counts.  Maybe I’d just settle for platinum-coated bath fixtures, I’m kind of modest that way.)

This is a collection of thoughts and experiences that I write more for my own amusement than anything else.  I decided that three separate blogs were too much of a pain in the ass, before realizing how complicated it would be to put everything under one roof, but here we are.

John’s Eats and Trips is my collection of restaurant/hotel/bar/club opinions and travelogues, in which I make absolutely no pretense to have any idea or authoritative insight into reviewing these things.  Gastronomy and tourism critics seem like kind of a pompous bunch, don’t they?  That’s not the point here.  Karin and I just love to eat out and go to nice places, and when we find something outstanding, to share it with others.  Have fun.

Guns and Butter resulted from a brainfart at the beginning of my MBA studies at INSEAD, to journal my ups and downs while plodding through that little field trip into the forests of Fontainebleau.  Boy, little did I know what a murderous grind-me-down that would turn me out to be.

In Xanadu… did Kubla Khan, a stately pleasure dome decree, where Alph, the sacred river, ran, through caverns measureless to man, down to a sunless sea.  Yes, Samuel Taylor Coleridge was an amazing poet, if some of his works do make you wonder whether opium might maybe not be such a good idea after all.  This is my catch-all dumping ground for the twisted effluvia I come up with when I have too much free time to think about the Zombocalypse and other fun odds and ends.

So let me tell you a little story, and you can tell me what you think.  But please, don’t take any of it too seriously, it’s really just for fun.  Unless you decide that I have Steven King potential and want to pay me bathtubs full of royalty money as a staff writer, because boy, I could sure use a more fun job than I have right now.