Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)

Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.

This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.

Thursday, February 19, 2004

Hello, poetry lovers

Steevil--evil brother of Dr. Weevil, prominent NASA egghead, and Possumblog Double Secret Correspondent--just sent me a link to a lovely poem from today's National Review Online. It is full of heart-breaking, unrequited love and treachery and infidelity and probably chewing tobacco. Enjoy yet another excursion into the world of Southern literary excellence.

Steevil, being the first of Possumblog's far-flung network of lackies and ne'er-do-wells to send this report, will receive a lovely prize.

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