You know, some of you, that I love to send you a postcard, now and then, and a very few of you know, that I have felt rather old, dusty and antiquated for my efforts. Why, I wonder, do the things we love to do become, sometimes, resented, useless, empty burdens? Well, this is the kind of rhetorical question that might be perfect for a postcard, but, who shall receive it?
I got the horse right here, his name is Paul Revere. By that, I mean, can do, can do. Cast your eyes this way, folks: Postcrossing! Yes, this was made for you and me, sans doute!
I am running to my pen, cards, and stamps! You will be hearing from me, and soon!
The Fugue for Tinhorns is a lodestar for me, a constant inspiration, so let's hear it just once more.