Post, okay, post
The post is the place with the center, can't say I'm happy with the colours, but I'm afraid I have only myself to blame. Or so it says on these cards; half the text is rubbed off and I'm not really sure what it's supposed to say.
Is that how people blog, they take the cards and fill them in? Because I'm afraid I never was any good at filling things in; my idea of a descriptive about page was a picture of a shovel, after all, and my response to people telling me I'm cynical about that and this and all these other things is... well, I'm not sure. I'm afraid I don't really remember, your Honour. Something about getting defensive and becoming more cynical, probably. That's a logical answer, anyway. Typical human nature, at least.
Point to point, I don't like blogs. Never have. They serve their uses when on directed topics, and when a good writer is making specific points and keeping things concise they can be interesting, but beyond that all they are are words cast into the void of cables. Tubes. Intertubes lingering in a sea of bits.
I just don't care, your Honour. I'm sorry.