You may have noticed that your friend Blue has been neglecting you. Neglecting you and ignoring you. It's not because he's been ill (knock on wood, no not that wood!) or because he won the lottery and somehow forgot to mention this tiny little detail while luxuriating on Bora Bora and not forgetting how to write about himself in the third person singular (even though he still is somebody of no distinction). No, sir. No, ma'am. I've been neglecting you these past two months because bills need to be paid and this horned son of an elf convinced me to take on this project that needs to be finished one day from now and edited before January 8, the day when Elvis himselvis was born once upon a time in a galaxy far, far away in 1935.
But you have been in my thoughts — much more so than Star Wars VIII: The Sneaky Reboot. Which, admittedly, is not saying a lot unless you like Mary Poppins in Space, 40-minute subplots that don't matter except to spacehorses, hyped up Snoke and lightsaber flashback stuff that does matter but gets completely ignored, and self-proclaimed studio masterminds who dump the old, then proudly give themselves a Facebook thumbs-up because a weight has been successfully lifted and the pixel porn looks great — and I wish you all a merry little Christmas. Let your heart be light. From now on, our troubles will be out of sight.
I will reboot myself and stalk you. Just not today or next week. How's that for the best news ever? And if you happen to bump into good ole Santa, would you please ask him to send me a self-help book on how not to waste my life or talent? Or maybe a Christmas tree?
P.S. But really, have yourselves a wonderful Christmas with all your loved ones, cats, rats and dogs included. Yes, Mongo, that includes you. Now, shut up and go to bed. (I'm talking to Mongo.)
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