For I am a peddler of words lost in space and time filling in gaps of insignificance to outright the inconceivable.
When once the itch of literature comes over a man, nothing can cure it but the scratching of a pen. But if you have not a pen, I suppose you must scratch any way you can. ~Samuel Lover, Handy Andy, 1842
Saturday, May 5, 2012
Packet Loss
Sometimes, a thunderclap is all it takes to set me off in a foul mood.
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