Be nice this time

Okay, I was almost in the neighborhood of nearly just about sincere the other day, and then I went and sprang that video with flickering fish and pasty white ass on you like that, and frankly, I feel a little chagrined about it now. I'd like to make it up to you as best I can without gettin' so sappy I stick to your face.

The truth is that many of you deserve my thanks, fellow bloggers. I started to name names, and then I decided that there are just so many of you I'm grateful to know that I'd best not do that, lest I leave somebody off, or lest I name somebody who emails me and says, "Ewwww, don't ever use your name and mine in the same sentence again." See? I'm socially fuckin' graceful like that.

But so many of you have amused me, inspired me, humbled me, touched me (no, not like that - well...sometimes), have in some way moved me with your writing and your photography, or by personal example. Some of you have become what I consider real friends - can online friends be "real" friends? I think so. A couple of you are related to me and have to be nice, but thanks to you, too. I've gained insight into different view points, gotten helpful advice about the craft and the business of writing, and had a lot of laughs. Mostly, I've been treated with extraordinary kindness by people, many of whom I didn't know, or barely knew, a year ago, have been given tremendous support by these people while I have gone through things that never got blogged. You've shown me love and patience - and I know I can certainly try the patience - and have often been the cooler heads that prevailed when I couldn't collect myself. So...thank you.

And now, because you just knew you couldn't take me to a nice party and hope for me to keep my pants on the whole time...

Ha! No, you have to watch the video if you're weird enough to wanna see flashes of my pasty bare ass. For now I'll leave you with something that is equally as disturbing as my bare ass, but hey - at least it's not my ass.

I give you...

Flaming psychedelic Mason Reese (click on his name if you don't know who he is):


Oh, I can hear you now: Why, Bucky, why? What kind of god would allow this to happen?

The artiste in me retorts, because artistes always retort: Aha! You ask why? I ask, why the fuck not? If it has not been done, then I shall do it, no matter how utterly unnecessary, regardless of the cost in human life and cornea, always pushing the envelope right up someone's ass. Also, I figure you should share in these horrid visions I just can't stop.

Sleep well.