The Return of the Native Blog--Dave Dimp, our Ebullient Blogstarian, speaks out against thin crust pizza and labial piercings

Back? I never left! This is, after all, the Interknit--the one toilet no one can ever flush!

First let me tell you how wonderful it is to be back; it's been months it seems and I have so much to tell you all about the Santariamas and the New Jahr parties we all had! Debbie Doodle was there, and Andrew Puffball, Sid Sinker, and Melanie Squeezer. Mr. McCookalikrackers even turned up for a glass of 2% milk and 98% gin. I'm feeling a little out of it in this blog world so maybe I'll have to make stuff up so it can fit in better--I suppose I could say that Andrew Puffball was shooting at smacks under the ping-pong table, and Sid and Melanie played sp--n-the-b----tle. (Debbie did "whip" the "cream" for the apple pie!) I do so want to fit in! First, before all that though, let me go fix myself some cocoa and get my favorite slippers! I have only a few minutes to work on this before Star Fark comes on the Optical Wireless and then its off to bed real early because I have to get up in the morning and go to church. A quickie poem in the style of the Declining Years, I call it Existential Angst in Bumbletown and it is vaguely dedicated to a fudge-cutter named Sawmill:

Fog curls under my beets and tickles my dimples/The cell phone rings yet I ignore it/ I've never answered it/Never/Never/Not once even/My flexing rump is fickle and needs relocating/Shall I scratch this sluggish hamster named Mr. Toes?