blogday

"You know what day it is today?" says me.
"It's the Feast of the Martyrdom of Saint Willig, patron saint of haberdashers and turnips," says Giblets.
"It's our blog's very own birthday!" says me. "Seven years of uninterrupted journalistic excellence!"
"No, no, I'm pretty sure it's just Saint Willig," says Giblets flippin through a liturgical calendar. "Martyred on this day in 1309 while choking on a turnip."
"The first thing I'd like to say about our blog is that it has the very best readers," says me. "They might not be the kindest readers or the smartest readers or the happiest or the most articulate or the best-smelling readers but they are our readers, and that says something, probably, about something!"
"We don't have any readers," says Giblets. "No one reads the blog. Even you don't read the blog."
"Sure I do," says me. "Why just the other day I read that thing... about the guy, who's mad about the stuff."
"Giblets is going home," says Giblets.
"It's all part of the rich tapestry of our history," says me.
"Giblets is going home to work on his novel," says Giblets. "It is called This Is Stupid and Boring and Stupid and Shut Up."
"What will the next seven years bring!" says me.
"It is about a young man coming of age in small town America and being eaten by robot bears," says Giblets.