Despite the revolutionary treatment administered to me by Stringer, Medical Dog,1 I am still sick. I would say this is the sickest I’ve been all year, but remember when I dislocated my shoulder, developed painful complications from my vasectomy, and contracted a virus of the inner ear that gave me the spins for two months? I do. This common cold or possibly flu is as nothing to me. I am modern man, and if I am not as robust as my ancestors, I have at least practiced putting up with mild annoyances. There is no blog today, because my lungs are full of cotton and I’m barely hanging on. But when I’m feeling rotten, I compose a little song, which soothes me when I’m moody and I feel like passing on. I just whistle and remember that this year will soon be gone.
I’ll see you in 2016. I promise.