The Blog That Wouldn't (but probably should) Die

On a cool summer evening sitting around a crackling fire on a knotty old log, I was once told a story by a man of the most questionable repute. "Lean in", he said. "I have a tale that needs passing." He could have meant "I have a tail that needs passing", but when faced with semantic dualities I tend to choose the one that generates the more pleasant olfactory perception. "It was a violent night" he continued. "The clouds roiled, the rain pelted, and the wind thrashed. The lightning crackled and the thunder bellowed out in angry voluminous crashes. The ground was not big enough to hold all of the water and it choked and gasped desperately. And yet a small frazzled figure dashed through the typhoon. It made me think of a gnat crawling through a carwash. But then I realized that the scale of this was much greater. It was more like a gnat crawling through a typhoon. It slipped and it fell tumultuously into the churning pools of collected water. It thrashed and splashed and fought to its feet again and dashed along, so sure of it's purpose. It fell again. Again it rose. It fell. It rose. It fell. After a while, it seemed as if it might be dancing to a pattern or following some other unknown masochistic rhythm. It rose. It fell. It rose." And then the gentleman telling me the story (whom I assure you was no gentleman) paused. His eyes became glassy and he stared very deeply at nothing in particular. I can not state this as fact - I have no way to check it - but I feel confident asserting that myself and the others there to listen to his rants paused mid-breath and did not breathe for some minutes as he sat motionless. Time froze, or time passed differently anyway. Everything was still. The only things that moved - the flames of the campfire, the tree branches swaying in the dark, the wind - were all that was important I realized. And just as my epiphany settled in and began expanding into a life-changing explosion of sudden cognition, he said simply: "It never stops raining. But that little fragile figure - which is this blog... This blog, supported only by the frail spindly little legs of pessimistic self-observation, in that hellacious typhoon, THE typhoon of infinitum, refuses to die."

"I think that story is all just a bunch of bullshit" said Abraham Lincoln who was sitting just to my left.

"Let's kill it!" said Bambi, the deer from the Disney animated movie of the same name.

"Or at least torture it!" said Snoopy.

Just then the flying edifice of Charles DeGaul landed upon a nearby branch and shit itself.