Let me tell you, dawggs.

Let me tell YOU, my friends.

My enemies.

My lovers.

My pets.

My brothers.

Over the past two weeks, my brain has belonged to Microsoft in a ratio of approximately 1,000,000 to 1. That is, for every one-million minutes I spend on something related to Microsoft, I get one minute for myself to do whatever. And, given that one-million minutes have not yet come to pass during these past two weeks, it should be clear that I have had exactly zero minutes to myself, to think my own thoughts, and to do my own brain things.

That’s not bad. It’s just a crunch month. We have these. Team meeting last week – tons of work on content this week – delivering new content in Colorado next week. It just comes with the territory.

But I’m finally done with the content work I was supposed to do, and it’s left me with a brain full of things that need to be barfed out. I mean I have to get them out. I don’t know where they come from. I don’t know what my subconscious is trying to tell me, but I woke up this morning, stayed in bed for a while (‘cause I could), and let my thoughts wander over something SUPREMELY ULTRA MEGA HYPER MAXIMUM DORKY. My thought was, “What if I had a Stargate…”

It’s like I was lying in bed, enjoying a bit of brief protracted adolescence (as opposed to the not-so-brief protracted adolescence that makes up the rest of my life, and which is the reason I have nine empty, scraped-clean containers of microwaveable Tandoori chicken sitting on my counter right now (and it’s my protracted infancy that makes me want to go get arts and crafts supplies and turn those boxes into a giant cardboard robot, but we’ll just leave that alone for now (note that all of these details also help explain why I’m still single))).

But let’s get to the point here. I know I have a tendency to wander into the GREAT MYSTICAL FOREST OF TANGENCY (a college professor once told me that I talk like a twenty minute jazz solo, and refused to clarify on whether or not it was a compliment).

The point is that, while in bed, I was totally imagining myself going through the Stargate and doing stuff. Know what, though? Going through the Stargate of your imagination is like a weird psychological experience – like inkblots – you learn things about yourself. You don’t wind up going where they go on the show, and you don’t wind up performing the same missions. Your psyche and inner-desires drive the experience so that each mission through the Stargate reflects what you truly want out of life, and what you would take from it if you had the power to travel anywhere in the galaxy instantaneously and shoot people once you got there.

Here, in WORLD FAMOUS RORY COMIC FORM is my favorite fantasy from this morning, where I met a race of perfect beings who looked suspiciously like Snorks.

Also, to protect myself from MGM’s lawyers, in this comic, I don’t refer to the Stargate as a “Stargate,” but rather as the “Starhole.” I think it sounds cooler anyway, and could easily be turned into the title for a gay porn franchise if this little creative endeavor of mine doesn’t work out.

It is possible that, were there actually a Stargate program in existence, I might not be a best first choice negotiator for the job, but at least I know what the important questions are

With that, I bid you all a good weekend.

I love you all.

Hugs and kisses,

- Rory