I'll be back.

One of my faithful Fair Readers informed me yesterday that the "silence" on my blog was a source of "concern."

Sorry about that.

The truth is that I -- your dear UCM, the individual -- am temporarily unavailable due to an unexpected construction project. Other than this brief foray onto the Internet today, I am currently not writing coherent thoughts fit for public consumption. (Some are chorent; some fit for public consumption; none, however, achieve the quality of being both.)

Except for the following:

I *finally* purchased a new can opener today. Back last spring -- or whenever it was that S2 and I made a foray into Target together -- I purchased a "Michael Graves" can opener. For my review: WHAT THE FUCK EVUH, MAN! It SUCKED.

Every time I tried to use it, I would think: If I don't replace this goddamned mutha-fucking piece of SHIT soon, I am going to be so fucking fucked the fuck over when the End Times come. All those fucking freak-ass Christians will be running around in the street freaking the fuck out about repentence and all that goddamned bullshit, and I will be sitting up here -- or hiding in the fucking woods -- and this goddamned good-for-nothing, whippped cream-topped piece of beetle-infested cow chip will NOT WORK on *anything* in my End Times Survivor's and Malingerer's User's Kit.

Or something like that. Sometimes, more fucks than that, even. Depending on how pressing my need to open a can. I opened four cans of stewed tomatoes tonight without a single expletive. Unless, of course, you count: It's about fucking TIME! Goddamned Michael Graves. Stick to your stupid ass architecture and stay outta my fucking kitchen! ... Unless you count *that,* there were no outbursts.

Alas, my Fair Readers, *that* is the most coherent and complete thought I can provide for your reading pleasure.

Please return at a later date. My bet would be on Wednesday.