WHO FIRED THE HOUSEKEEPER?

Man, the dust in this place really built up over the past (nearly) three years. That's the last time we hire legal citizens to do the cleaning. From now on it's all undocumented workers and sketchy homeless people.

Hiya. We've decided to kickstart this old house after a lengthy 'net coma because some events in our recent past (as documented here in the Act Your Old Age blog) suggest we need to get back to living, and fast. The spiffy AYOA condo is meant more for writing; CHATTER will resume its normal programming of this, that and the other thing — a sort of Seinfeld hodge-podge of everything about nothing, which it's been since its start back in 1991 (yes, this blog was born as a daily column in something called a newspaper, an arcane and nearly extinct form of media that was printed on actual paper by tree-hugging liberal types who didn't see the delicious hypocrisy of killing trees to make their bones).

Since that time in the black-and-white days, CHATTER has gone on to dress up and be part of a magazine, and then went all downscale to guest-host an alt-monthly tabloid called THE PULP, before segueing onto the net in 2006 and becoming a go-to place for stalkers and gawkers to try to discern what the hell the Chatterboy was trying to say. We have a hint for you: It's like Gertrude Stein said — there is no there, there. Anyone seeking deeper meaning from a blog called CHATTER needs to locate a life. This place is the equivalent of Springfield-style cashew chicken: it won't kill you, but if you're looking for fine dining, might we suggest Flame?

There's your background. Thanks for stopping by. We'll be renovating the blogroll and updating the curtains in the next few days, so if you have any suggestions, drop us a comment. We'll do our level best to post the bizarre shit that's always been our sweet tooth. Be safe.