Dear 19 Long Suffering, Irrefutably Loyal Readers:
PBD is gone, no more. We're tired. Tired of blogging, mostly, and so the remedy is clear: it's time to sign off. Yes, yes, it would be been a luxurious trip through the memory banks to detail the turning points of Obama's primary and general election campaigns, but when the list of highlights hit 30ish, my desire to catalog an already arduous cycle waned.
Regardless, this isn't a impulsive decision, but rather one I've wrestled with for months. Not only had I lost a real desire to continue blogging on political matters, I couldn't envision this particular blog except as a chronicle of campaigns large and small, far and near. Unlike Detroit and the Tiny 2, I know when my gig's up.
And yet what better time to let this old dog lie? Our preferred candidate won the presidency, the Congress is becoming more blue (and especially blue dog*), and we've found other distractions to pursue. Hell, I might even write for the sake of its pleasure, not for publication, and not to drill, baby, drill some hackneyed point across. That's another thing I'm tired of - talking points. Enough with them.
Isn't November NaNo month? Ah, like the Cubs, maybe next year.
Customarily, this is where thanks are written, little lovely notes to friends and supporters. Why differ and more importantly, I think you deserve better:
Thanks first to everyone who ever stopped by, stuck the feed in your reader, read a post, clicked around a bit, or left a comment. PBD was never a traffic beast, it wasn't intended as such, but a host of dedicated readers made blogging more worthwhile.
Thanks to Tim**, whose long ago link provided entree into Ohio blogdom. Ohio political blogging was crowding with serfs then, and Tim's link let PBD inside the compound. Without that boost, we might have shuttered a long time ago.
To Pho for friendship that began here and extended offline, where it will continue.
To others for much the same, although distance and time prevent more direct interaction: EV, Jill, George, De Mango, Tim F, Gloria, Foss, Jeff, YDS, Sloat, Blue Bex [read Tupper!], Ryan, and a host of others.
[Random interlude: WTF, there's shaolin or something on ESPN; dog must sat on the remote and flipped to the ocho.]
Thanks to Mr. B for the showing the way in place specific blogging and for the Song of Tim Ryan, which will forever remain the single greatest creative use of C-SPAN audio.
To Kyle for a list of things too numerous to detail here; let it be said Kyle is a generous and gifted man.
Akronites on the right: Ben and TBMD. Another righty: Daniel Jack.
And no, I don't know who the Professor is so you may stop asking.
To my favorite FI: danke.
Profound gratitude for my brothers, whom I love dearly, though I sometimes disagree with you individually. Mostly, though, the last several years have been a boon, a raft of memories. Other times you make me want to throw things. Hard. At your head. I suppose this is as expected among talented and headstrong men. Still, love!
Last call, a Son Volt tune to highlight a pair of lyrical snippets:
Catching an all-night station
Somewhere in Lousiana
Sounds like 1963
But for now, sounds like heaven
AND
Trail spent with fear
And not enough,
Living on the outside
Live on the outside.
* We know this pisses most of you off immeasurably, though it makes us beam for two reasons: 1) at least two of us are blue dogs and the others flirt, and 2) we predicted an expanded Dem majority in Congress would be won by guys like Zack Space and Heath Shuler. You're welcome for our prescience, but we're not debating this point anymore - it just is.
** No links tonight, crew. As I said, I'm tired.
