Perspcacious Prodigal and Periodic Pedant, Revisited

Today's Track: Wasting My Time--Default

Diligence? I don’t even own a horse.
--Lord Cynicus

Just when you thought it was safe...
Out of the dense and forboding mists of needless curmudgeonry, wreathed in the uneasy witchlight of obstructive cynicism, shrouded in the plush, well-tailored robes of social apathy, hair swept fetchingly back by the twin gales of capricious boredom and copious free time, eyes alive with something which might be noble intellectual purpose, or possibly the fervent desire for a nap, the Masked Logician arises once more.
Far back in the dim recesses of last October, the Masked Logician, presumably much to the relief of some, faded from all knowledge. I have it on the ludicrous authority of those few even more asinine than myself that this is only fitting, seeing as all knowledge had faded from the Masked Logician some years previously. For reasons I trust are perfectly obvious, I refuse to dignify such remarks with any response more eloquent than that posed by the raising, in unison, of two certain phelanges in a time-honoured and quietly expressive twin salute. For a number of reasons too staggeringly dull to go into, I decided for a time to move on to other methods of wasting time at other peoples’ expense. But my mind has rested fitfully these past months, falling at last into an intellectual fugue that would not be assuaged by even the most potent of chemical additives. I cast about myself for a cure, some cerebral poultice to calm my mind, or at least something passable on the television with which to distract it. What I realized was that something was missing from my life, something was lacking. Also, that network TV has really gone to hell in the last few years. I decided at last that I must have a purpose. A calling, a quest, some grand endeavour to which my intellect might be bent--and here I disregard those who would glibly point out that my intellect is already more than just bent, but in fact nearly sprained. However, those of you familiar with higher callings and noble purposes will be well aware that they are all rather a lot of work. Ok, new plan. Wouldn’t it be simpler, I said to myself, to simply vent into electronically publishable media, thereby giving others the benefit of my seemingly endless mental rabbit-hunts? What you’re saying, basically, I responded to myself rather cautiously, is that, just because you are, forgive the expression, approximately as sane as a badger in a rain barrel, there is no reason that you shouldn’t inflict yourself on an unsuspecting reading public? To which I rejoined--and I quote-- “Meh.”
For this reason, I have at last returned, brimming with vim, vigor, and other altogether more dubious substances, ready to sieze the tiger, to take the world by the horns, to look my life squarely in the mouth, as well as other mangled bits of figurative language, on a scale more magnificent than ever before. Ok, so I’m actually doing this because I was instructed, probably on account of the fact that I behave this way all the time, that I must begin writing once more.

In either case, The Masked Logician returneth...