Unwitting Party Pooper

Well, there you have it. I go off to spend a few days basking in the winter rays off the east coast of Florida, and Hulles throws a Bisontennial party. Well, OK... drinking ginever in a dimly lit hole-in-the-wall in St. Paul during a snowstorm could be considered in several respects less appealing than getting drunk by the pool and recklessly endangering the lives of pensioners with a golf cart in West Palm Beach in 80 degree weather, but that doesn't detract from the fact that I am sorry to have missed the opportunity to imbibe and converse with a reputable blogsmith of dubious character in a celebratory (or celibatory?) manner. Regular visitors to my blog are no strangers to my regard for said personage (at least his writing anyway). But despite his being a crusty sex-hound de l'ordre le plus supérieur, one gets the impression that his jocular tone flows from a wellspring of human kindness and creativity. Wow, the BS is really ramped up to meth-enhanced levels today, I'd make such a great PR hack. Truth is that Hulles is one of very few bloggers who visits my site and leaves comments (remember: comments to a blogger=horse to a junkie) so I rather enjoy embellishing in rhetorical flourishes at the expense of his character. There you go Hulles, it seems as though you've managed to become the lone subject in another one of my posts. Congratulations.

p.s. As a consolation for missing the Hulles Bisontennial my true identity as a one-armed sasquatch with a speech impediment and butt acne remains largely unknown in the blogging community. Dodged a bullet there my friends.