Dear Lamp Cracklers,

Please understand that the term “Lamp Cracklers” is not meant to demean you in any way.  No, no, that is not what responsible friendly greetings are all about.   As you may have observed in the above salutation, I preceded “Lamp Cracklers” with “Dear,” which of course indicates my infection toward all who read this unscientifically formulated group of sentences; which could, I suppose, be considered an essay or perhaps just a mere document, but if any of you realize that the previous glob of text is simply appearing on your screen as a vehicle for the insertion of a run-on sentence, it’s probably true; but then if you are foolish enough to read it out loud I certainly hope to HECK you took a moment to breathe, and if you haven’t HOLY MOLY breathe NOW for goodness sake!!

Thank you.

You see my friends, I am not trying to shame anyone; regardless of their propensity toward (or lack thereof) Lamp Crackling.  But because almost everything in the news has been giving me Intestinal Volcano, I surmised that perhaps a completely nonsensical “Happy Friday!!!” might be therapeutic… at least for me.  As it was during childhood, so it is for me now:  nonsense can help me laugh during difficult times.  After all, I’m simply a child in old man’s clothing; and an occasional silly rant helps me to embrace the age old proverbs for emotional well being:  

“Don’t sweat the petty things, and don’t pet the sweaty things.”

And: 

“As the frogs say, ‘Time’s fun when you’re having flies.’ “

And of course:

“You can pick radishes before they are ripe and they will still be red.”

In spite of all this (and in spit of everything else), it has been brought to my attention that none of you are sleeping in the snowbanks efficiently.  Perhaps you are unaware of the unhealthful benefits of Snowplow Surprise that can only be realized when the road commission truck buries your sleeping bag in freshly fallen slush!  Believe you me, there is absolutely nothing that compares to a soggy awakening of such magnetism!  I mean, there you are, soundly snoring loudly during your recurring “Oh no, I ate three ounces of crunch bugs again” dream, when the snowplow whizzles past Uncle Fossilhead’s mailbox (where you’ve been sleeping since October), when you hear that ear-pickling scraping sound and then “BLAPP!!” your snowbank slumbering spot is poofled with road mush and ice cribblings.  

NOW will you remember to wear rain gear over your parka???  I guess time will tell!!!

In closing, my Dear Cramp Lacklers, next time the snowplow forgets to clean your sock drawer, please, PLEASE yodel more loudly to prevent any gradual injuries that may be caused by tasting all those crunch bugs in three part harmony.

Sincerely Yours and / or Someone Else’s,

Nerg Sneffmonken

a.k.a. “Runs With Wooden Spoons”