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Sometimes I think of things that I might like to write about, but that either I wouldn’t want certain people to read or that certain people wouldn’t want to read themselves. I got in trouble for that once before in my earlier days, even though I still say it was a misunderstanding. Regardless, those particular posts didn’t get ported over to the Booberfish name, just in case.

And then sometimes I feel like maybe I might be clever and write about it anyway by using an allegory or some other cryptic device so that only people who are supposed to understand will and for everybody else it’ll just be a weird abstract story. Perhaps a narrative from the point of view of that plastic grocery bag I just watched roll across my lawn. Unfortunately it usually turns out that I’m not quite clever enough for that. At least in my miniblog I can be as cryptic as I want and not have to explain myself, or even hope it makes sense to the casual reader.

Finally, it usually just comes down to my having other things to do, like decorating the tree with the rest of the family, and I don’t get around to writing anything of substance at all. Oh well. You probably have better things to do, too.

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