pilgrimage

Hello my dearest readers.

How I have missed you. I've made many a journey of late and each of its own essential quality and value, but I thought it was due time that I let you in on one in particular.

I went to worship at the foot of my favorite cheddar. It is so good.

It is called Isle of Mull, and if it were a god, it would be loki, because it is unpredictable and feisty.

If it were an object, It would be a rad and rusty machete, because it is sharp and infectious.

If it had a wife, it would be that gummy welsh farmswoman, because she is enchanting too.

If freud ate a piece, the kid would be like, "ID!!! ID!!!! ID!!!"

And finally, if it were an ancient culture, it would be druidic... sucker!!! LOOK!! There are actual ancient standing stones on the property!!!! Dang It!!

Oh, and guess what...
When I walked through the pastures with my eyes closed, inhaling the deep aroma of the herds refuse, it was like I was eating the cheese.

Isn't that breathtaking!!

(YES!! It was exactly like when that loonbucket in "grizzly man" is touching the blue berry bear turd!!)

Anyways, when all was said and done, I put some flowers in my hair, as is my custom, threw on my suckiest face, and peaced.

may your cheese knowledge burgeon,
and your dweeb radar be well stimulated,

love,
frank gilbert