How Do I Love Thee, Webmaster?

Liz, this is truly pushing the concept of a slow news month much too far.

Or are you now shooting for a slow news quarter?

Hey, I'm the webmaster of my running club. In lieu of an e-card, I'll take chocolate, please. Dark. Thank you.

Miss Martta, I'm absolutely sure you always deserve the finest, 60% cacao dark Amazon chocolate at any time, no matter that you're also a webmaster. (Yes, and I'm master of my fate even if I steer my ship alone....)

But today is the feast of, among others, St. Catherine of Siena and St. Januarius, and the lady is the patron saint of Italy, firemen, Allentown, PA, against sexual temptation and many other patronages. Against which "webmasters" come off as very pallid and undeserving indeed.

Should I have then asked if this is a "slow day for noting saints' feasts" on Baristanet?

cathar, may I suggest that you brush up on some html and XML scripts so you can cut out your own litle private idaho on the internets. After that, you can hog up some bandwidth elsewhere with yer whining. Sheesh, bloody saints and slow news day complaints and all. Blargh!

I think we should all pick a time and place and buy Tom a beer.

I wonder when is the feast day of the patron saint of Ignoring A Post You Don't Like Instead of Complaining About It.

A feast day to celebrate for sure.

I was not "complaining," Mike 91. Just trying in my own way to hasten the end of this slow new month. (And this is at a time when a municipal election nears! Where is the journalistic enterprise, you know?)

Then too, this elicited your own post. So you're doing your part here too.

Conan: I chose 15 minutes ago in my kitchen to buy Tom a beer, but he didn't show. I had to drink it myself.

Sorry, Tom.

Where is Tom? We haven't seen a word from him is years. I wonder if he posts under another name? Hmmmm. Perhaps I am Tom.

Something I dashed off for Liz on my way to work this morning:

In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes,
For they in thee a thousand errors note;
But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise,
Who in despite of view is pleased to dote;
Nor are mine ears with thy tongue's tune delighted,
Nor tender feeling, to base touches prone,
Nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invited
To any sensual feast with thee alone:
But my five wits nor my five senses can
Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee,
Who leaves unsway'd the likeness of a man,
Thy proud hearts slave and vassal wretch to be:
Only my plague thus far I count my gain,
That she that makes me sin awards me pain.

Q: "Where is Tom? We haven't seen a word from him is [sic] years."

A: "NFL Draft Day: Whatchu doin?" (4/25/08) by Tom Biro

But the sonnet, 'roo, was beautiful. Almost Shakespearean. Do your superiors at Amalgamated Collection Agency know you can write like that? If so, they should transfer you to the dunning letter department. I never pay my bills, but I would consider responding to a notice crafted that well... :)

"Today is Your Day" - The Dove

I am waiting for Tom to respond so we can go and enjoy a beer with our webmaster...Walleroo, will you be reciting verses for your lady liz?

You mean that none of the Baristas can feel the love every day from all of the postings? LOL!

Happy WHATEVER Day to EVERYONE!

(I miss the good old days when working folks found "appreciation" in their pay. No more. Let's praise 'em all!! Feel better?)