Friday afternoons get so quiet on the bulletin board. I've been logging in regularly to check the posts, and I watch as the number of people logged in decreases until, at last, I, alone, am left. For a brief moment, I saw GC logged in. Thinking my solitude would be interrupted by a witty post, I waited. But, alas, he came, he saw, he departed. No witticism did ne leave in his wake. It is as though he never was.
I, too, shall soon depart this barren board. Across the river, the grass grows green in the meadow, and it is commanded that I should undertake to hew it down, lest serpents should dwell there. Twenty-three horses await me, to sit astride them as they whirl the sharpened steel blades that will reduce the grass to an even height, at least temporarily. Zero turning radius will ensure that the battle is swift, and the grass neatly hewn. The speed of the mower is great, so that even Kudzu shall not overtake me. And the deer shall graze upon the fallen blades.
Quod scripsi, scripsi.