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So far, I've written about "The Hurt Locker," Susannah-brand journalism, and the monkeys at the Playboy mansion.
I'm rather enjoying it. I'm trying to get down some stories and/or ideas that I haven't told thus far, demanding of myself a modicum of greater seriousness, and, who knows, in the coming weeks, I may even offer up something approximating investigative journalism, or its limp-wristed cousin Maury who whines during dinner and then passes out in the foyer. He's so embarrassing.