That is basically the question every morning. What now? What can I write about to get me though this obligation, this promise to myself that I will write every morning? Yes, it's the periodic I have nothing to write about post. I should have more to say but I suspect about 21 months ago I wrote everything I was going to have to say. You know, you wish in the 80s that you had some way to get down all those things you had to say then personal computers get cheap, then the internet comes along in around 1995 and, whammo, thirteen years later you are all tapped out.

Thank God for Google news, that's all I can say. Yet some days that only gets you a story about margarine. It's so much easier at the beer blog - a nice focus without too many serious ramifications. And stuff in the mail. I get stuff in the mail all the time. Beer swag. No swag here.

Yet that is not the point. In a way, we have traced the arc of the bloggy rise and, if not fall, something of the settling. I am despirately against the idea that there is anything to social networking and have yet to see anything that trumps email's resiliency. Blogs have achieved so little in society it is actually quite remarkable for all the collective effort that has gone into them. We have really only learned with some fascination, as only our family and co-workers knew before, that there are a lot of mouthy bores out there fundamentally intent on learning nothing and, as a result, a lot of really weird points of view. Mine included, no doubt. Yet we will go on knowing ever more how odd democracy is given who strange people are. Boldly marching though a cheery loggorheic bog to nowhere. Every morning.