I shall post soon. I promise. I swear up on my sword, and on my pipes, and on my fountain pen... and on anything else of any worth, upon which one could swear.
In the meanwhile, I present you with a ridiculously poetic bit of spam, that showed up in my com-box the other day. I can't remember the last time I received such a lovely computer generated comment:
And so i chose to strike them first
so painfully in the wood
I loving freedom and untried
i thus could speak of yarrow
And with that sublimity, ringing in your ears, I leave you all, but to return again soon. Wes þu hal