Gentle visitors, it seems hard to imagine that it was just four years past when these pages were first vivified with the kind of lively postage that you have come to expect (though largely regret). Nothing like the unjustified clamor and acclamation generated by that seminal post had been seen in the days BOE (Before the Obama Era).
Now, your humble Contributor -- four years older but not any the wiser; sprouting white hairs where there once were flaxen; struggling to recall what was once close at hand, such as the Finance Minister of the Kingdom of Bhutan; feeling the burden of advancing age; and, even desperately adopting a more favorable numbering system as regard his years -- now, he questions whether, under these distressing circumstances, he should continue in this laborious and unprofitable work of blogging.
Gads, you might say, how convenient for our humble Contributor to raise such a question, suggesting, as it does, that he has been prolific, prodigious, and even religious in his work, when, in point of fact, his output has been akin to the meager Gross Domestic Product of the Kingdom of Bhutan (according to the most recent report of Finance Minister, whose name we cannot currently recall).
Your humble Contributor, ever patient with the impertinence of certain hypothetical visitors, would respond that it has always been the policy of this publication to favor quality over quantity, even at the cost publishing nothing. More importantly, however, the question is more philosophical in nature: namely, has the art of blogging -- once so new, so fresh, and so exhilarating, as in the days BOE -- become the alliterative kin to the bleak and bloated blight of bland and blase blabber of blinkards and blatherskites? Or, is the very question a blatant blasphemy?
Blimey, you might answer, bleats me. Indeed, then you would share my angst.
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