Pregnant Portent Clouds strike while the iron's ardor is most incandescent.
I'm so glad I didn't, as this is possibly the best letter I've ever received. At first I wasn't sure if it was just email from a fan whose command of English is... interesting... but profoundly poetic (or maybe just stoned), or if Skynet actually had a profile of my interests and had evolved a sense of context. I mean, it references guns, My Little Pony, Lord of the Rings, and Firefly/Serenity... that's all of my nerd interests right there!
Strike when the iron is hot.
Well, I hope that the iron has cooled somewhat and that the portent pregnant clouds are troubling the heads and hearts of others more deserving. I intend not to strike but to offer support. I know you not at all save for the blogging; which I find entertaining, thought provoking and informative. For I didn’t know that My Little Pony was still a thing. Pegasus got caught, would this happen to a real pony?
It took a great deal of fortitude to paint yourself into that corner for a friend. And then to come out with it in a twist so twisty that the internet probably had to screw its knickers on the next morning. And then to come out with it in a twist so twisty that the internet probably had to screw its knickers on the next morning. I wanted to lend my voice, or at least, typed words of support; I’ve been reading your blog for not too long, and found it by way of View From The Porch, I think. Point is: I will continue to read. It matters not that my concept of what the one at the helm looks like has changed. It is the internet after all, and if you aren’t comfortable in the skin you’re born in, this realm can allow those thus inclined to fashion a more comfortable mantle; and to have cast that mantle aside for a friend in need is surely an act of nobility.
I do feel a since of camaraderie with many of the bloggers in your sphere that I read, a bit of a late blooming Brown Coat I’ve discovered myself; and the sense of Family and Loyalty you folks foster fits right in the breast pocket of that Brown Coat I’d discovered I occasionally wear. Guns, Books, music, Loyalty and Family, all shapes, all sizes; round, square, straight as an arrow or queer as clockwork oranges, we’re all just folk. Some a little strange around the edges, others so odd it drips all over them, and every smear along a broad continuum.
And in that vein, and though much geography intervenes allow me to join the chorus of people who may have never properly met you but who will wax Gilmli on the subject, anyone gives you any shit, you have my axe…Well, 11-87; at least.
It turns out that it's from a fan whose first language wasn't English and who wrote this while sleep-drunk.
Either way, it's pretty damn awesome. The turns of phrase are so delightfully weird that I'm actually jealous. And I'm definitely going to use the phrase "wax Gimli" in the future.