Zzzz

Would talking about how tired I am go beyond the regular self-indulgence of a blog? Why do I obsess so much about it? If you're reading this (and my heart goes out to you, it truly does), then you are endlessly fascinated with my introspection. Instead, how about we focus on you?

So, what brings you by? How did you happen across my little corner of the 'Net? Are you a graphomaniac yourself, or the digital equivalent of a peeping tom? Are you stalking me? Could you stalk me, in the non-violent kind of way?

Where did you grow up? Are you married? Do you know how they get the soft, flowing caramel inside the Caramilk bar? Do you remember that commercial, where businessmen are bidding millions of dollars on learning the Caramilk Secret, and one bids "Anything!" Suddenly, from out of the darkness, Satan leans forward, and asks in a deep, forboding voice: "Anything?" I loved that commercial.

Your Forgotten English of the day: stool of repentance
"A kind of pillory in a church, erected for the punishment of those who have transgressed in the article of chastity." Basically, a fornicator sat on the stool during the service. Afterwards, he/she would have to stand on the stool and endure the minister's rebuke.

Remember when public censure was the worst kind of punishment? Neither do I. Bring on the fornication!