I have of late—but wherefore I know not—lost all my bile
Forgone all custom of rantings; and indeed,
It goes so heavily with my disposition
That this goodly frame, the blog,
Seems to me a sterile promontory;
This most excellent Kitchen, the words, look you,
This brave o’erhanging blogosphere,
This majestical place fretted with golden words—
Why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.
What a piece of work are blogs!
How noble in intention! how infinite in variety!
In form and moving, how express and admirable!
In action how like an angel! in apprehension, how like a god!
The beauty of the 'net! the paragon of t'interweb!
And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust?
As one may guess, your humble Devil is feeling out of sorts; unable to summon up the anger required to rant and tired of the sme old arguments. Perhaps it is that he has become too immersed in this blogging lark, too hopeful of effecting change whilst realising how little anyone cares!
Perhaps that it is that here is something depressing about shouting out one's grievances and knowing that no one is listening. Your humble Devil has not been inspired for months, plugging along on autopilot.
It is time for your humble Devil to return to his roots, to the line-by-line fisking of politicians and columnists. Perhaps he will find his rage again as yet more government stupidities flow around.
Or else The Kitchen may have to go into retirement.* At least until March...
* The last time that I said this, of course, there was a load of NuLabour bollocks only a day later and it was a joy to come whirling back...