Back in the before-time, we did not approve of blogs. We were joyously dismissive of bloggists who belched out windy rants with careless, common, Catholic frequency. More important still, the word itself was ugly. Blog. Blurgh. Balrog. Not at all dignified.
Now we cope with the impertinent realization that we are become our enemy. We have a blog and we intend to use it. We must. We have accumulated too many windy rants of our own, each clamouring for a pulpit from which to impress and subdue. Granted, we would prefer to belch from a position of greater fame and authority, but for now we will settle for the affected modesty of humble self-publishing. For now.
A note to loyal readers: to maintain order in the household economy, our bloggish domain shall be partitioned in twain. The first, a bonny boy-child, shall be named ‘Snark.’ Opinionated and cynical, he shall gather under his banner all that is polemical and unhelpful, yet gloriously satisfying.
The other one, the runt, wishes to be named ‘Try.’ We disagree, finding ‘Blerta’ to be quite adequate. But we are kind and indulgent, and will endure her bellyaching. Any material which attempts to be needlessly constructive can go live with her. In a shack. With no indoor plumbing.
We wish it to be known that we still disapprove of the uncouth name bestowed upon this irritatingly democratic medium. Not that it matters. But it matters.
That is all.