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It’s Lonely at the Top…

…of this page, where a pale head on fuschia shoulders floats in a cold cerulean sea… (It’s just up there, top right corner — the disembodied Spirit of Semi-Constant Scribble. A couple of my nieces have found this site too funny to read, because of that ghostly noggin hovering there. But I swear the shirt was red when the photo was taken.) Even Writing Heads Get the Blues. But in contrast to the rude (and rhyming) epithet so common these days, I have only one thing to say to all of you out there in CyberLand: you can just WRITE me! A couple of you have noted the lack of ready-made comment space on JH.com, but you shouldn’t let that discourage you. At the bottom of that eerily glowing yellow box at left is a Write Me! (don’t bite me) button that gets you to my email address, and the rest is as easy as falling off your front porch.

For one thing, I’m a bit of a grammar-and-spelling freak and am occasionally horrified to see that something sub- or semi-literate has been set free to further corrupt the corridors of cyberspace, placing yet more of the misery of psoriasis on the unsightly shoulders of the information highway, sullying the glistening filaments of the world-wide Web. (Or you may object to overheated metaphors.) I’d be grateful for your help in eliminating errors of grammar or fact, but would welcome even more your reflections, commentary, or a simple “hello from Guadeloupe (Vancouver, Detroit, southern Caledonia…)”. ‘Sall good, as those spunky youngsters (spongy yunksters?) love to say.

 No hiding, now. My little stat machine tells me that there are a few of you out there now, and while I’ve been known to talk to myself, it’d be nice to know that there’s somebody out there who can read. And who does.

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