Dear Gentle Readers,
The e-interregnum is almost over, so I logged on to see if anyone came by.
And it appears that my site has been hijacked...
By the Hero.
Listen, don't worry about the Hero.
Someone mainlined a bit too much catnip a couple of weeks ago and is, obviously, still a bit strung out.
I apologize if Pommes has upset any of the gentler e-souls on the net. He'll be in rehab for a while (and, sadly, therefore unavailable for photographs).
But, what was Pommes so worked up about, this week?
Your Hero heard me quoting The Avengers by the American poet Edwin Markham (1852-1940).
And then, apparently, Pommes worked himself into a lather.
Or his guilt worked itself, and himself, into a lather.
This was what I was reciting when Pommes flipped out...
The AvengersThe laws are the secret avengers,And they rule above all lands;They come on wool-soft sandals,But they strike with iron hands.
Not that I don't find Pommes' revelations interesting...
As long as Pommes has been abiding with house rules, he has nothing to fear.
Of course, if he hasn't, hmmm, well, nowhere in the poem does it state that Heroes are exempt from the laws... ...now, where did I put my iron hands?...
See you on Monday.