“Oh, for a beaker full of the warm South!”
Keats wrote that, and I know just how he feels, because I’m in Florida after a very harsh northeastern winter. Oh, yes, I know — there really wasn’t a winter, but piss off. I was cold, and the sky was gray, and I had to wear overcoats and parkas and stuff like that. Now I’m down where the air smells different, and the breezes waft thus and such with all the you know what I mean.
Meanwhile, much is afoot with the Daily Cannibal.
We will soon reveal a bold new redesigned page, with easier access to content, better organization, hot stuff and a series of stories about the very worst vermin that ever lived: people who pimp kids for cash.
Stay tuned. We may be pokey, but as was once said: “He grindeth slow, but exceeding fine.”