Jesus Christ! Doc, You Disintegrated Whofleck!

Calm down, reader, I didn't disintegrate anything.
The molecular structure of both Whofleck and the blog are perfectly intact.
Where the hell are they, you ask?
The appropriate question is when the hell are they? You see, Whofleck has just become the world's first time-traveler. I sent him...into the past! Three days into the past to be exact.
And at precisely 11:59pm and 59 seconds, he shall catch up with us and the time-blog.


Seriously, now. I wish not for this to be a cool denial of yet another of my failings.
My founder and sponsor was kind enough to speak quietly on my behalf, but there is a new Whofleck in town. He is an educated man. He is a busy man. But he is not without regret, nor mistakes or short-comings.
This is no place for excuses, so consider this repentance:
I have sinned. I have put the blog behind myself, and in doing so raped any meaning my original oath may have held. I beg, and submit, that I shall live for your forgiveness. Fear not; I am no battering husband. I refuse second chances, just give me your open minds.
Things are going to get weird.

Seasonals.

A couple weeks ago I purchased a case of Samuel Adam's Summer Ale. It was a fun surprise for Canadian Tuxedo, who was coming to visit for a party. It was an even more fun surprise for me, when I took a sip at CT's urging.

Instead of bitter, flowery flavor I was treated to a scented, swollen sin of modern brewing.

It tasted like a diaper. It tasted like a diaper because it smelled like a diaper, and then it tasted like a diaper. Regardless, CT and I gulped through our bottles, he with new resentment and I with a fresh sense of guilt.

I returned to the distributor from which I purchased said shit-catching drinks and asked for a different, comparable case. There was no dicking around:

"What's the problem with the beer, bro?"

It tasted like a baby human's diaper.

Now I've searched and searched for an image to replicate the reaction I got from this poor peddler of pints when I revealed the secret ingredient of Samuel Adam's Summer Ale, but to no avail. It is without an ounce of irony I introduce the embedded photo below.

This is almost precisely the face I was offered.