There is a whisper in the air that says, "Come out, come out. Your house is dark and dull. Be out here with me, the Summer Air." The trees wave in agreement, nodding towards the hills. I know that as I walk away from the homes, deep into the park, the din of the city would be replaced by the hushing of the leaves. "Shhhhhh. Fox doesn't understand. Shhhh, look at the Waitress reviews- and Craig Ferguson went great. Shhhhhhhhhhh." Thanks, leaves. Or, that's what I'd say if I wasn't in my dark, dull house. Dull? Wait. Let me paint a picture of a man standing on stage in front of a crowded hall, lit by a Beer Only bar at the back and the spotlights for the stage up front. The crowd is drunk and happy, the floor is old and beer soaked. The tunes have been rockin' all night and the band cannot do wrong. The end of a crazy set turns the crowd hungry for an encore. The lead singer turns to me and says, "You up for Free Bird?" Oh yeah, I am. What could make Mother Nature take a back seat, you ask? It's blasting off tasty riffs, one after the other until the crowd is frenzied, then give 'em the juice. Star power. Freak them out of their tiny rock and roll worshipping minds by flipping through the air whilst nailing the most intense solo you've ever wailed out on a Gibson electric- just to finish the song by throwing the guitar to the stage. Forget Air Guitar- I have found Guitar Hero 2, and she's buying a stairway to heaven. Don't even get me started on the Halo 3 Beta. The beauty. The explosions. The poetry and symphony of war. Nicely done, Bungie. And thanks.

Thus far, my MySpace experience has been pretty interesting. It's fun dropping in now and again to see what's what, get caught up on all the clippings and articles going around, and most of you are totally into the vibe on this page and continue to be cool. I even had a fella come up to me at a Waitress function and use the correct greeting format mentioned in one of my previous blogs. (It loses something when there is no one else around though, bud.) There have been some weirdos, but the Negative Nancy's have been abolished, and folks leaving creepy comments get deported. There is still, however, an amazing amount of requests flooding my comments and inbox (sigh). Why all the TAKE TAKE GIMME GIMME attitudes? Can't you see the relaxed vibe? Can't you hang and not benefit? Why not try to contribute rather than profit? I'll state my case one last time (I really do hope) in an effort to keep this page fun for me, as well.

"IM me" messages: Dude. I'm real busy. This page is fun, but not my job. People bust their hump to attend functions to ask a me question, and you send me a form letter demanding my time. It's not your fault that the standard IM invite is clearly not an invite, but an order- but it IS your fault for coming here and asking for more than I'm offerin'. Chill with those. I'm not IMming anybody, regardless of medical condition (which, OH, GOD! STILL comes up). This page is for all, not just you. Be cool.

Read my blog: I'll confess. I tried to read some. But, help me out. You've been to my page, you've read my writing style, maybe have some sense as to my humor- if you ask me to read your blog, it had better be damned entertaining. So far, no dice. Run it by some people before you ask me- quality control and all?

Autograph requests: You kidding me? After all we've been through, you're going to cheapen it with "Sign this"? Sheesh. And if you really are getting it for a really good friend who really deserves something really special, then why don't YOU do something thoughtful and special? Cuz, guess what? You don't care about that person. You feel guilty because they do so much for you and you do diddly squat for them. Case in point: Your big thoughtful special idea is to put three lines in an email and you can't be bothered to send a self-addressed stamped envelope (customary for autographed photo requests, some folks include the photo as well). So, you won't spend $2.50 and a walk to the post office for this friend. How does it then become MY job? I'm an actor. Re-assess this relationship with your friend. To the guy who reads my request for no requests and requests anyway: Bad form, man. We're all in this together, can't it be about all of us? (This also includes: Go check my friend's page. YOU go check it.)

Is there going to be more Firefly?: Look. Of all the places you are going to hear about more Firefly, this ain't it. Go find a Firefly site. If it WERE happening- you think I'd have time for MySpace? And, I know you want to be funny, ask anyways, and then put "JOKING!" behind it, but- even if you really thought you were the first person to do it, do you really think that's funny enough? If so, please- leave the funny to me. I am a professional and we don't want anybody getting hurt. And, as a general rule, bugging someone isn't funny for anyone but you, so stop doing it at parties. Unless people have already stopped inviting you.

Thanks for the add.: Cheers. I think we can assume all the thank you's by now, yes? You are most welcome here.

Post another blog/photo: Don't tell me what to do. I don't tell you what to do. Now, go make me a sandwich. (I actually know that you are really saying is you like the pics and blogs I put up, and you want to see more. I thank you. You are so sweet! On wheat, please.)

God told me to…/I'll kill myself if…: This shit is whack, and gets reported.

I like your work/clothes/choices EXCEPT FOR…: Ok. Stop. Stop at "I like your work." That will do. I don't need your honesty, that's for my friends. With strangers, I'm more looking for class and manners. See, I liked your post, except for the part where you sent it to me. Think positive, remember?

Naked/ass/sex references: I know you are trying to be complimentary, but if you knew me, you'd know I'm not comfortable with strangers talking to me like that unless they have had experience in fashion modeling, yoga instruction, or stripping. Nor does it make me feel that you are behind my work. Think of me as someone you have never met, a human being, deserving of your respect. "Show us your ass." does not fall under this criteria. Be cool.

I know you are probably never going to read this: You are right. You clinched it with the "Woe is me- baby got a poopy diaper" attitude. Does passive aggression run in your family? Stop the cycle!

Is this really you?: Good question, but am I the guy to ask? Wouldn't I lie if I were... um, lying? Why not pose this one to the masses? Ask someone on the comments page if they can attest to my identity. I've had plenty of run-ins with plenty of them. Also, I'm starting to think you don't read these blogs I spend hours typing with two fingers. If I'm an imposter, I'm brilliant and deserve some props. I did put up some personal pics, but people rip them from the site, and that creeps me out a bit. You understand.

But I'm having a blast. To show my appreciation, I'd like to put a shout out to one of you, and I don't mean to embarrass you when I do. Your messages are always positive, yet less than frequent. Always themed, and never breaking character. I've been a fan of your work, but haven't written till now. Why now? I was walking to my car after dinner when a crane from a nearby construction site went completely out of control. I was a safe enough distance from the falling crane, but the load it carried swung 'round and snapped from it's cables, sending it towards me. Two palettes of steel girders flew like the handful of chopsticks of a fallen waiter. Normally a man of action, I instead froze. I contemplated the memorial service for my passing, what people would say, and what would become of my hair once I died. At the last moment, I was pushed. I landed in the grass upon the side of the street, the wind was knocked from me. By the time I regained enough of my senses to turn to see who it was that saved me, I was only able to catch a glimpse as she rose to the roof tops on a slender line- I couldn't believe it! It was the Silver Sparrow. The clicking of a camera told me that a newspaper photographer was beside me. Both of us still eyeing the spot above where she disappeared, I spoke. "I never got a chance to thank her."
"She knows. The Silver Sparrow always knows." he replied in a way that told me they had a history, but I didn't want to pry.



Stay tuned for the next blog, where Nathan Fillion covers AIRPLANE ETIQUITTE.