Having an extra day away from work and purposely cutting oneself off from the world, including the internets, is quite liberating and solitary in the richest, most joyful sense of the word because most everything and everyone is full of shit, except you of course, you're the best, you bastards. Aside from the missing regalia, the purple trappings of empire, and actual power over the miserable lives of your subjects, I'm sure it's quite similar to being royalty.
Which got me thinking on the bus this morning on multiple things, two of which carried great import, the rest being the daily dose of silent aspersions and barbs thrown at various and sundry, required for the upkeep of my sanity: I had, as on most days, no post at the ready and no access to livestock, thus haruspicy as an aide was out of the question. Plus, they'd probably make me clean up all the blood and subsequent vomit from the other passengers. Secondly, are we denizens of the internets not already royalty? Within the legendary, mythic cycles of all the great civilizations, must not the hero make a perilous descent into and through the underworld, the ineffable darkness, a hell that cleanses the soul of fear and guilt, preparing it for the monumental tasks that loom ahead, its shadow consuming every step?
Do we not, crawling into the Stevens Tubes, mimic Odysseus and Beowulf and Frodo and Bill Kristol as we trudge through the murky depths of hardcore pornography and RSS feeds? Are we not mythic heroes?
So embrace your destiny, grab your sword, and chop someone's head off.