Ziggy's life is a grey amorphous mass, populated from day to day by an unchanging cast of dysfunctional characters, trite malaproprisms and "aint-that-how-life-goes" one-liners, each and every one a feeble attempt to deal with the unending monotony that characterizes his existence. It's a Groundhog's Day that only technically moves linearly forward, a Kafkaesque nightmare sans the cockroach, a gorilla on his back that just keeps on eatin' nanners. It's not as severe as Hell, but it's as futile and it's as colorless and drab . And how many of us are any different?
Hi! My name is Dustin, and I write a Ziggy blog.
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