List, List! O List!

So, here we are. And here you are: the reader. Without you, we are nothing. Without us, you...still have a few choices, but you're life might be just a bit less interesting. Or maybe not? Ambiguity is our specialty.

What is our purpose, you ask? Or, perhaps you do not. Perhaps the winds of chance, the zephyrs of mere opportunity, have blown you gently into our midst, and you seek nothing but the sensuous feel of the breeze on your face, the smell of the wine-dark sea, the feel of the pendulous waves beneath the soles of your feet. Adventure! Enfranchisement! Manifest Destiny! 

Well, you'll get none of that here.

Exit, Pursued by the Whole Army is not the answer to life's questions (Hint: it's 6 x 7): it's just three friends, from strange and obscene backgrounds, sharing their love of all the wonderful miscellany in the world around them - in the form of Top 10 Lists, of course.

Why? Because we can. Because we want to. Because we are the hopeful, unfathomable scions of a generation of stagnating apathy, and what little we have must somehow be funneled, transmuted, and indeed distilled into a liquor never brewed; a liquor to satiate a world we love and care for, and perhaps create a state of unbridled artistic inebriation. We can only hope.

In other words: we know stuff. Let us tell you stuff. Maybe you'll get something out of it. I mean, seriously, when was the last time reading hurt you? Outside of that unfortunate attempt you made at Dan Brown last year. Yeah, you. I know you regret it. So do I.

More explanation will follow in subsequent posts. Watch the three of us unravel the mystery of how "Exit, Pursued by the Whole Army" came to be, while we regale you with all the random esoterica we've collected during our combined fiftysomething years of life on this earth. 

The unholy trinity is as follows:

DG Rosetti haunts hangars, exhibition halls, and projection rooms. She dislikes being bitten by her sibling, and also Babaganoush. She enjoys the company of robots, and the word Thorax, and aspires to be a world traveler. She can Eep on command.

God'sLonelyMan is a man with no direction in life but down. He likes movies, improv comedy, the word "Pope," and anything that is (a) shiny or (b) shimmery. He hopes one day to high-five in space.

Very Like a Whale is a paragon of animals, but only the ones with pouches. He aspires to be a 16th Century Jacobean Playwright, enjoys reading Shakespeare in the original Klingon, and is not, nor will he ever be, covered in bees.

That's us. Our credentials, perhaps, are not as impressive as we might like. Together, we are a formidable three-headed man-beast, but until the advent of body-fusion technology, or the discovery of how to make that weird thing they did in Dragonball Z with the earrings work, we are doomed to be separate entities. So watch, as we make an admirable effort to attain intellectual nirvana.

List, list, O list. And there an end. Enjoy...