Inky, the mascot of freedom

Happy Wednesday, y’all! Now, I realize I’ve been about as dependable as a Fruit Stripe gum tongue tattoo these days. I’m like “allow me to impart my infinite wisdom about what it’s like to write a book” and then “let’s talk about the toilets in Japan” and then I’ve gone amiss without a trace of any discernible shape leaving you with a mouthful of blue ink that could in no way be confused with the zebra of its intent.

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I mean, she obviously cheated and drew hers in, because no one else has ever in human history made the tattoo that prominent. source:

My behavior needs reform, and no one gets that more than I do.

I could start filling your heads with promises of being the type of blogger you deserve, ready and willing to unleash some witty observations on the daily, but I think you and I both know that time has passed. I’m trying to write my second book muy rápido, I just accepted a new job and I’ve got more travels booked in the next few months than, like, Waldo. In short, I’ll still find the occasional time to word vom, but I can’t currently commit to more.

As the great Kurt Cobain once said, All Apologies. Now let’s move on, shall we?

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traveling more than this guy source:

Now, politics. I, like you, have been inundated with political posts and news stories on all of my trusted news mediums for at least 25 hours a day. It’s just this constant, in your face Trumposphere masquerading as the world wide web that we can expect will only increase in volume as the year goes on. Super.

Of course, we do have options. We can block the most vocal ones from our newsfeeds or “curate” them so we don’t have to see anyone we disagree with. We can run as far away as possible and fill our days with fluffy animal videos and food porn, because those inoffensive photos would never make us implode with shame. I’m not advocating that behavior, but I do understand the desire for an escape.

Sometimes, in our search for an escape, we get gifted a gleaming beacon of hope. It feels stolen, illicit, almost as if it shouldn’t exist since it’s full of substance, it came from a reputable news source, and it has nothing at all to do with politics.  I found this today, courtesy of Time magazine, and it was so damn refreshing. I’d go so far as to call it inspiring. Life affirming. I had to share. I read something that was downright delightful, and it had nothing at all to do with the Trumposphere.

Or so it seemed.

A few months back, an octopus named Inky bravely broke free of his prison cleverly masked as a New Zealand aquarium. Much to his captors’ chagrin, this ingenious cephalopod apparently seized his moment when the lid to his tank was a smidge ajar. He then “scooched across the floor” and slipped through a drain pipe leading to the Pacific Ocean.

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Inky – the octopus, the myth, the legend source: New Zealand Herald

We’re just finding out about this now, although Inky has been living amongst his tentacled compadres for several months, and some of you may curse this news source as less than reputable due to its lack of interest in timeliness. That’s your prerogative, I suppose, but I, for one, am grateful that the good people of the New Zealand aquarium tried to cover up the escape which in turn deprived the news world from marveling in Inky’s glory. Somewhere, buried deep within the crevices of their subconscious, they must’ve known that we’d need this inspiring tale deep within the bowels of election season, to reaffirm that freedom is worth the fight, struggle, and endless personal turmoil we all feel by having our year absorbed by this horrifying Trumposphere.

Thank you, Inky, message received. Best of luck out there.

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