Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Our thousandth post should’ve arrived with fanfare befitting the coronation of kings, the likes of which would call for a sumptuous dinner spread, rivulets of rich country drink, court jesters, song, an elephant, and possibly even a beheading. That’s what’s supposed to happen when you hit the big one-oh-oh-oh, at least on paper, but reality instead lavished upon me a case of the flu. The nerve! I thought I had beaten the odds, landed on the right side of the bell curve, and I was certain my luck was all but guaranteed when I survived a recent storm of office coughing and multiple encounters with the afflicted.
When you play with fire one too many times, however, especially the magic fire of disease, there will be consequences, and accordingly I’ve reaped the harvest of my hubris. It isn’t the dreaded swine flu, I don’t think, because I haven’t been hacking my lungs out or running a fever or anything like that. I’d like to think it’s a more dignified strain, marked with a stoic congestion and light discomfort, but we’ll see if matters worsen. I may as well be upfront here, too, and declare that the thousand mark we’ve reached tonight includes the “we’ll be back on so-and-so date” posts, which is clearly lame. Blogger still reads “1,000,” of course, so it’s a milestone nonetheless. I just didn’t want to tell a half-truth, only to be promptly struck down by lightning midway through a sneeze.
In case you’re expecting a speech, some kind of tawdry collage of reminiscing, let me assure you I mainly want to go to bed right now. There is one memory I’d like to share, though. I remember, back in the day, considering a commenting system for this site, driven by the belief that your voice should be heard here. This didn’t happen, obviously, and I’d like to recommit to never implementing this feature. Think of it as renewing a vow of your silence. I don’t care for you to talk back! And even now, while Twitter consummates its dark grip on the populace, this corner of the Internet shall remain, as ever, a one-way conduit of information.