Time for another missive into the void. I could make terroristic threats, I could blaspheme, I could tell my deepest, darkest secrets, and it wouldn't matter. No one will ever see what I write. I could talk nasty. I could talk baby-talk. I could pretend to be speaking in Aztec. It's 100% safe from prying eyes, because no eyes will pry. My meagre post has no more significance than a pebble in the bottom of a deep underground lake. Then why don't I do it? Perhaps because, in spite of all evidence to the contrary, I harbor some small glimmer of hope/fear that someone, somewhere, sometime will stumble onto my small grain of sand on the infinite beach of the Internet, and would report me to the Literary Police. They would stifle my screams, arrest my development, and confiscate my thoughts. Oy veh!