I'm currently working my way through this year's Hugo nominees for best novel. Even though the awards are all said and done with, and I know the results, I'm still plugging dutifully through the latter half of the list. Why? I'm really not sure. I've done this every year since I started seriously reading SF, but yet I've been consistently
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I'm glad you're enjoying the wit and charm that was spread generously through my smattering of LiveJournal posts. Your lack of punctuation makes me question whether you are someone named Dan or you think I am (I'm not). Considering the fact that I know no fewer than seventeen Dans I can't really narrow your identity down to that of one person. Thank you for your kind attempt to break my LJ's comment virginity, but I fear that it was in vain, for this journal is now dead. Still, I appreciate knowing that my existence served to foster a hate in you that motivated you to take valuable time out of your day and express your emotions in writing.
Ta ta for now!
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