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Friday, April 07, 2006

AWARDS, SCHMAWARDS 

Saint Paul of Fraters Libertas, in the course of congratulating Captain Ed for being named Blogger of the Year, has advised us here at Spitbull to get our tuxedos ready for next year. Well, let me tell you, my tuxedo was ready a week ago. What's more, I've been wearing it since then, too. You see, I donned it last Friday, certain that two years of baffling oversight would be remedied and that Spitbull would finally receive NIGP's coveted Rock Solid in the Blogosphere award. When we were cruelly passed over once again, it was more than I could bear, and I went off on a bender that I'm only just now returning from. My once pristine tuxedo is now a tattered wreck. What remains of it is indelibly stained with cigarette ashes, Johnny Walker Red, the garish lipstick of a $50 whore, and the rueful tears of bitter regret (also the regretful tears of bitter rue--I cried both).

I will not be investing in a new tuxedo. I've learned something over the past week: lusting after the baubles of others' approval is a fool's game. I am swearing off awards, and I hereby vow to return to what I do best--not blogging.

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