Independence Day

This is basically what's going on in my head constantly

Friends. I've some news that may trouble some of you. I've shut down twitter operations. Temporarily. I've had a falling out with my writers, designers, web engineers and most of all, my editors. Turns out they are all idiots. I've asked twitter to suspend the account until I can find some real talent to work with. Does it surprise anyone that on the day we, as a country, are celebrating independence from an overbearing patriarch who never believed in my acting career, that I've declared my own independence from the stagnant, humdrum parade I can't believe I once called a newsroom?

Hold on, get that revolver out of your mouth. There's a light at the end of every tunnel. And the 120 mile-per-hour light at the end of this tunnel is me in the Trans Am, followed by every cop car in service with both middle fingers coming straight out of each t-top, singing every solitary note of "Free Bird". The live version. Here's the deal Bubba, I'm spending the week in the desert. I've got my stock of peyote and ganj taped under the dash of the Am. I'm going to have my interns polish every gold chain I own. I'm going to up my illegitimate children count. Considerably. I'm going to gamble every last bit of my Waffle House endorsement earnings. I'm gonna put it all on black Bubba.

When the haze starts to clear, and I find my socks without waking anyone up I'm coming straight back to Bowling Green with a reporter's book of full of revolutionary ideas that were birthed during my psychedelic stupor. My new editorial team and I will decipher the ramblings and turn them into journalistic gold.

Friends, I'll be tweeting in a week.


Also friends. We will be opening a photo gallery. Check out our logo template at www.flickr.com/fakechrisallen print it. And take pictures around the globe and we'll feature it on the flickr page, blog, and twitter.