From the Jill Schwartz Memorial Library here in the wilds of Connecticut, this is obscure

Season 2 Frankenstein.

I am your friend, your host, your earlover, your literary mansplainer in chief and geogenologist,

Michael Ian Black.

The last several episodes I have been whining, complaining somewhat obliquely about the stress

in my life, low these many weeks, and the top my topsy-turvy mood I said I would report

when I had anything to report, and it seems like now I finally have something to report.

So last season when we did obscure season one, one of the surprising developments to

me was how events in the podcast sort of overtook events in my life, and when I'm thinking

specifically about my dog Jack Jack, who would co-host with me often, sitting here by

my side in the Jill Schwartz Memorial Library, generally contentedly, and then Jack Jack

ended up becoming part of the story in an unexpected way.

Well, something similar, not dog related in any way, is happening to me now, and I don't

know how much actual reading I will get done in this episode.

We are, it's a nice place for an interregnum, because volume two has ended, and we have

not yet begun volume three, so this might be a kind of choice place to do a little

interregnum episode.

But I don't even know quite where to begin, but my story I think probably mirrors many

of your stories, because this is in a very direct way, the story of the last 18 months.

You know, it is the story of 2020, which began for me in November of 2019 when my friend

John died, and then everything sort of subsequently went to hell after that, not just locally,

but obviously around the world.

...