It’s common knowledge that the integration of scheduled sex into a relationship is typically a harbinger of doom. I take this sentiment a bit further with a profound distaste for anything that’s scheduled. For whatever reason, we take comfort in predictability, even as regards our media consumption. Sunday is football day. If it’s Thursday night, break out the Chardonnay for another Ladies Night Gilmore Girls marathon. As scheduled. Just like last week. Just like next week. So very reliable. So very dull.
If you’re starting to suspect that the preceding paragraph was just a pretense for announcing that this will be the final installment of my scheduled weekly attempts at humor, you can consider that suspicion confirmed. Mind you, I’m sure you’ll see posts in a similar vein when the mood strikes me, so the only things really being retired here are a recurring title and an expectation. Good riddance!
I would like to thank everyone for their loyal patronage. So how to go out with the appropriate level of fanfare? Today’s video should be something historic. Educational. Shitfaced. Here’s a Drunk History take on the life and times of Harriet Tubman: