For a blog with next to zero readership (by choice, of course), I get a surprising amount of flack for not updating it. Thing is, this is the busiest time of year for us here at The Factory and I’m up to my eyeballs in this work stuff (what’s up with that?!).
I do have a few items in the hopper, however.
For starters, I owe Tom a short-story/ vignette/ haiku- written- blindfolded- with- my- left- hand that was due last Monday. And Shawn is expecting a CD review from me any day now. And then there’s the how-to piece I plan to post on automated remote system backups (sounds exciting, no?). So there is activity behind the curtain. It’s just this damned need to pay the bills that is keeping the action to a minimum. I’ve even flaked on taking snapshots: an activity that requires next to no thought or effort. Geez…
So to my adoring public, who sit with blue faces while waiting to exhale upon the arrival of my next riveting, witty, thought-provoking, laugh-out-loud-funny tear-jerker, I offer this tender morsel to tide you over. It comes to you via my beloved wife, who presented me with an example of the most time-honored and unusual form of popular humor to come out of the past century: the knock-knock joke.
While I was getting dressed for work this morning, she looked over her morning paper and offered:
“Knock-knock.”
“Who’s there?”
“Acowsez”
“Acowsez who?”
“No silly, a cow sez moo! “
Ba-dum-ching!
With the recent untimely passing of 
