On Being a President

It amazes me how easily the presidency comes to the current pretender to the throne. It's not that he's grown into the job, but somehow he managed to shrink the job to fit his meagre abilities. I could never do that, people were always on my case about little things like my backyard wetlands diversification movement, or my leeches-for-tots program. What did I do wrong? Did I push the envelope in the wrong direction? Please help me, people, I'm desperate.

The voices in my head.

Dear Diary: it's been a while since I wrote to you, and there's so much to tell.

I discovered that leeches provide excellent lubricant for slipping untracably out of tracking cuffs, thanks to my slight build and delicate bone structure. The fractures in my ankle bones are healing nicely, and I hear that do-gooder Termiteman was halfway to Patagonia before he managed to break out of the shipping crate.

While I was in the Good Guys flying prison, my new cannibal maintainance leeches eliminated the termites in my secret lair, and provided a useful object lesson to any others of my elite guards who might decide to accept a bribe from a Hero or even a competing criminal mastermind.

Life is good.

An accidental blog

The Great Leech Revolution has apparently created a blog for itself. I didn't intend to create a blog, it just happened as a sort of side effect of posting a response to someone else's blog. Apparently registering, so you can put your name on a response, makes you a full brlown blogger.

Cool.

I suppose I'll post occasional comments on Her, the Great Leech Revolution, new developments in prosthetic limbs for invertebrates, and other things near and dear to my heart.