As we approach the end of this long, stress-fraught loop of our small and precious globe around our small and precious local star, let us end all dispute, and defer all hostilities, put down all obsessions with rightness, bury all hatchets, and tie up all loose ends in love-knots.

This thread, this knotty and naughty thread, often frayed but never afraid, has served as an enlightened path, a temporary backbone, a lifeline and a lampwick in darkness, rich in saturated fats and bright with brief candlelight, to steer us through the valley of Shades and lighten the walking shadows of our prancing hour on this arbitrary stage; it has tumbled us in play, both fore- and aft-, and rolled us in feeling in every dimension. We have wielded it like a sullen hungry blade and cast it high like a child's brightly colored balloon. We have people it and unmanned it and it, in turn, has succoured us and suckered us.

LEt us give thanks unto the MOAB, from who so much has come to distract us from less worthy pursuits.


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