Prelude to a Prologue...And a Side-Order of Colored Greens

Rumors of my demise, and my originality, have been greatly exaggerated.

--I've been back stateside for a few days now, splitting my time between Northern New Jersey and Manhattan, and its safe to say I'm living the life of Riley. Gone are the uneventful afternoons in 800 year-old libraries, the langourous strolls through Christ Church Meadow, and the seemingly never-ending procession of pound-pints at the Oxford Union. Now is the summer of two-hour commutes, five dollar beers, resevoir dogs and slave-labor at an obscure think tank. Yessir, I've made my separate peace with Oxfordshire and am glad (in many ways, I mean it) to be home. Adieau Isis, Hola Hudson. Run down the Union Jack and run up the Stars and Stripes. Goodbye Ruby Tuesday, Wish they all could be California Girls.

You get the idea.

Anyhow, there's good news and bad news about my return for you blogophiles. The good news is I'm feeling particularly pensive, reflective, wistful even. The bad news is that my soulsucking New York job has sapped all my creative energy (I know, don't tell me, I've already missed a few opportunities for puns in this VERY POST). So all I can tell you is to be patient, and BE READY. I've got a couple of whoppers in the works. By means of cockteasery, I'll give you their titles:

"'Fear and Loathing' Without the 'Fear'"

and

"Twilight of the (American) Idols: Or, How to Philosophize with a Remote Control."

Stay tuned, kiddies.

-DRF

P.S. WORST. FREUDIAN SLIP. EVER.

I'm waiting at the deli after a long day at work and my kindly attendant (a young African-American man) asks me what I'd like.

I look him dead in the eyes and I order "A half-pound of rare roast beef and a pound of white America"

The BURN, sir. The BURN.