I’m 100 blog posts old…and feel it.

I determined 15 years ago that I wanted to write professionally, but this isn’t what I had in mind. Both the financial and spiritual rewards have fallen considerably short of expectations.

Plus, prose kind of bores me. (I know William Safire disdained beginning sentences with plus, because words and writing have been my studies since I was a teen, but I’m feeling contrarious. Plus, I’m tired.)

I couldn’t tell you how much text or how many hundreds of hours of time is represented by the contents of this blog. It’s a more than reasonable guess, though, that its substance equates to a fairly chunky book. If the tens of thousands of readers bewildered and/or victimized by the legal process this blog concerns—it draws 100 to 200 visitors a day—had purchased a bound volume I’d gladly authored instead of browsing the desolate musings printed here, I’d be sitting pretty.

This chasmic disparity exemplifies and highlights the toll exacted by procedural abuses and the state’s countenance of them. Victims may lose their livelihoods, their lives, and their way to what is fairly called a game. And the ripples of the horseplay that occasions thefts like this are broad and come to lap at and erode the fortunes of many peripheral to it.

C’est levy.

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