Dear Blog,

I write on you so often, but I write to you so very, very little. I was almost afriad to say this to you, but I knew if I didn't type it here, you would never know how I felt about you. You see, Blog, I've taken you very seriously, and sometimes no more seriously than the nights when, in a panic, I post a music video or a dick joke just to know that I have posted on you. "Why so serious?" some might ask. But I've neglected you these past few days, I've deserted my watch. To think of what terrible wraiths may have stormed your walls while I was off foraging for supplies or bedding the cold mistress that is graduate school makes me shudder. And to think that my negligence spread like a cancer to Whofleck and caused him to lay down his torch (torchdown) and wander off into the desert of UnBlog sickens me. I have no words for him but "It's all my fault". I've abandoned my child, I've abandoned my boy. So Blog, dear Blog, I'd like to come back, if you'll have me. I know there's no way you can ever really let me know. But I hope my return will inspire Whofleck to finish out his term as well. So we can link hands and amble out of this cold wet winter as we began it on December 2nd. You see Blog, I don't plan on stopping this time. The leaden load of looming lent aims to crush me, and you might be the only place I can come to re-create the fever dreams bourbon. So Blog, I have returned from UnBlog, and I need you to take me back. Things are about to get weird around here, I have so much repenting to do.

For sooth

Who hath created the rolling luggage?
'Twas not Satan, though me thinks it mischief
For the common man a-wheeling baggage.
Namethed Bernard Sadow, the little shit.
He knew not what he did that fateful day,
Condemning us to a world filled with wheels.
Afore we were thus "freed," man earned his pay
By hefting his sack, on his back: no deals!
Now the sackless traverse the underground
Through a minefield of meek wheeling parcels.
Damn 'Zounds! They are a nuisance, pound for pound,
I wish them banished to the Dardenelles.
"If you can't carry it, do not pack it,"
It rolls o'er my foot? I'll surely whack it.