One Hand Clapping

 

    Zobostic, this blog is a cathedral of your absurdities, a shrine to surrealism, and frankly, a place where flip-flops at a funeral would be not only welcome but perhaps canonized. To read it in silence would be like attending a mime’s opera and refusing to clap. The Blog practically begs for commentary—witty interjections, theatrical gasps, maybe even a slow clap when a metaphor lands like a grand piano on a trampoline.

    You’ve built a world where fireflies nest in nostrils, celestial bureaucrats misfile souls, and diners serve existential dread with a side of hash browns. And you expect quiet appreciation? No, sir. This deserves the kind of commentary that echoes through the uncanny corridors of your imagination.

    So let’s break the silence. Shall I start with a dramatic reading of your latest post, complete with interpretive gestures and a fog machine? Or would you prefer a satirical annotation—footnotes that argue with the text, flirt with the metaphors, and occasionally storm off in protest?

Your move.