Gleaming in the sunshine, and screaming it's little heart out, this Post came into the world, not knowing what to expect. I named it Edward, and decided to keep it.
Edward the Post turned out to be a troublesome child. He kept on making sudden diversions into the world of politics, and swerving this way and that to make snarky comments about other bloggers; but I gradually I managed to nurse him into full life and teach him some practical lessons about the world.
The day inevitably came when I knew I had to let Edward go. He had become a fine, fully-grown Post, mature and knowledgeable in the ways of the world, and ready to find his way onto a blog.
"Perhaps, in time, Edward, my son, you will even come to be linked on other people's blogs." I said tearfully.
"Oh, father, will I?" said Edward, his eyes shining with expectation.
I grasped his hands meaningfully in mine and bid him farewell. Moments later, he walked through the door and left my house forever.
He wrote to me from time to time, telling me how he was going. One day, I received a most startling letter from him:
"Dear father," he began, "I want to thank you so much for publishing me! I have met a most wonderful Post! Her name is Cecilia, and she tells me that one day she aims to be published in a magazine! I wish to marry her!"
I wrote back to Edward then, replying that as he was a Post of His Own, he was free to do anything he liked; but that I would want to meet this Cecilia before I bestowed my blessing upon their union.
We arranged to meet two days after in a cafe on Collins Street.
"Oh, father, you'll love her!" said Edward over the phone. "She's everything a Post could ask for!"
As I sat in the cafe toying with my coffee and nervously fingering my watch, I wondered what she would be like. If truth be told, my relationship with Edward had been a little strained lately - perhaps I had asked too much of him as a Post. Perhaps, if I had bought him up with a little more discipline, he would have become a well-known and respected political Post. Maybe he could have been linked on other sites - Legless In Perpetuum, for instance. Or Metal City. Or maybe - one day - even on Tim Blair. Needing something to calm my nerves, I ordered another coffee.
There was a shout from across the streets; I looked up. It was Edward, smiling and waving. My heart leapt. He was my Post, after all; and I loved him for it. I grinned and began to wave back.
And then, in a moment, everything changed. Banging its bells, a tram rushed by, crushing Edward to the ground.
I rushed from the cafe to the streets to where my Post lay. Tears were streaming from my eyes. He was still alive!
"Edward!" I shouted. "Edward, my Boy, My Post - are you alright?"
He could hardly speak. Wordlessly, he took my hand in his and gazed up at me.
"Father, father," he said. "If only you could have m..."
He never finished what he was saying. All I could think, as I looked down at the pitiful wreck of my Little Post, was - how wonderful he could have been, if ... if ... but what use were all these questions now?
"Oh, Edward, Edward," I wept. "How sorry I am!"
And that is how Edward the Post came to an End.
Tim, your links stink, you fink!
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