The House Rock Built is Drowning in Babyflesh
You may have heard of this thing called the "polar vortex". For the uninitiated, it's a large cyclone of frigid air that, if the jet stream diverts south, can settle down over large metropolitan areas, causing long weeks of subzero temperatures and, in many causes, WIDE-SCALE IDIOPATHIC PREGNANCY AMONG THE WIVES OF PROMINENT BLOGGERS. Nobody know why or how this happens, but a hedge wizard once told me that it has something to do with an ancient curse, and I'm apt to believe him.
Regardless of the cause, The House Rock Built is up to its ass in babies. Irishoutsider sired a mewling whelp a few months past, and your humble narrator is at DEFCON 1 readiness for the ejection of his second child any minute now. Needless to say, things are loud right now. And busy. And sleepy. And covered in poop. Good lord the poop. So puppets are...
Puppets are... not cancelled. No, not dead, not by a long shot. Just sidetracked. But not dead.
The editorial calendar has been tweaked. Weekly shows are sadly not possible, so instead we're going to make a Mid-Season Spectacular that will come out, um, Mid-Season and a Season Finale. To make up for the lack of a constant puppet fix, we will make these extra glorious.
We thank you for your anticipated coöperation. In the meantime, there might be the occasional smart-ass hot take on the Twitters at @stuffingthepass. Plus, I'm doing my annual Blogjam with Mgoblog, which should be up tomorrow.
Aside from that, Keep Calm and et cetera et cetera. Go Irish.