This is the way the world ends--not with a wham but a blogger...

  Allow me to commence our correspondence with you, Gentle Web-Surfer, with an apology for the skepticism evinced by my compatriot Sparky’s doxy in the onesie. Our Miss Moose, I do regret to say, is of a pragmatic turn of mind, and sees problems where solutions really would do better. It has been my experience that by far the most efficacious way of finding solutions to life’s problems is to act as though the problems had already gotten bored of waiting for you to find a solution to them, and had simply gone away. In time, that is exactly what they’ll do. So saying, I shall consider the matter closed, and move on to the business at hand.

   In the weeks and months (and, dare I say, the centuries) to come, we will be sharing with you some of the less execrable and actionable output from a fellow who has been known to go by the name of Cousins. This much he has in common with the overwhelming bulk of the general public, who go by his name without so much as batting an eye. And who could blame them? Batting eyes is not only dangerous, but difficult—they’re much smaller than baseballs, and don’t retain their shape after they’re hit. If I have one piece of advice for any of you, it is simply this: never bat anybody’s eyes, unless they’re your own. And if you must bat your own eyes, be sure you’re wearing goggles. It’s safer that way…not to mention easier on the bat.

   With that digression out of the way, all I have to add is one further regret. We had endeavoured to make our entrée into cyberspace this past Friday the Thirteenth, but circumstances intervened. It’s not that we’re superstitious…and by ‘we’, what I really mean is ‘yours truly’. I can’t speak for Sparky or his distaff encumbrance, but I, for one, haven’t a superstitious bone in my body. Many’s the time that walking under a ladder has kept me from the far worse fate of arduous manual labour that so often accompanies walking up one. I step on cracks with wild abandon, welcome black cats of all colours, and in general scoff at all things that bespeak a superstitious mindset. However, we thought it prudent to delay our debut in this space until after 6 PM on the 21^st of May, A.D. 2011, on the off-chance that certain prognostications concerning the world’s imminent demise proved accurate. After all, there’s no sense wasting effort, if your efforts are only going to be seen for a matter of seconds before everything goes BOOM.

   So here we are, which means the world will be with us for a good while yet, so we might as well get used to it, and enjoy the ride. And as for all the poppycock that has been cooked up concerning the world coming to an end in the year 2012, I’d just like to remind you: have you seen a Mayan astronomer lately? Their world came to an end long, long ago. They’re just jealous of everyone who outlived them.

  And so, all that remains for me to say is welcome once again to our world, and please enjoy this first of what we hope will be many offerings to make whatever time we have left on this mortal coil a little more on the bearable side.

(Signed)
Uncle Fun
  

  

A CLARIFICATION BY SPARKY

   If any of you who’s reedin’ this is a Mayun astromoner, I’m yer friend. I don’t mind what that th’ world is gonna end t’wards th’ end’a next yeer, s’long as it don’t mean I gotta pay back Moose th’ five bucks what I owe her b’fore then. So don’ put no Mayun space curse on us, er whatever it is you do.  An’ I ain’t soopertishus, neither.  A fella has one rabbit’s foot, an’ folks hang a label on him. Kin I help it if my left toes has gots fur on ‘em?

 
 

A REBUTTAL BY MOOSE

   I don’t like waiting to have my say, but at least this way I get the last word. You’d do well to believe half of what those other two are saying, and take half of that with a grain of salt. Better yet, take the half left over from that half, and pour an entire bag of salt on that. I really don’t know why I hang around with these guys—I suspect it’s because I’m waiting for the day when I catch Sparky off-guard, and he finally lets me comb his hair.

   As for all this ‘superstition’ stuff, I keep an open mind. But I would like my five bucks back.

   By the way, ‘Moose’ is not my real name, but it would take too long to explain why I’m stuck with it.

  

EPILOGUE: A SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE

   We had intended to tantalize your tympanic membranes by ending this posting with some audio for your delectation, but a few off-duty imps from the dark reaches of Tartarus chose to frustrate our ambitions out of spite for the world not coming to an end. Please accept our humble apologies, and watch this space for further developments...