Oh. My. God.
While I’m being reviewed by the guy that came up with the term “synchronicity,” on the day that I warp an Elizabeth Barrett Browning poem into an ode to spammers, comes this piece of comment spam (with links removed to protect the innocent):
Even whilst I delayed, the bank had lost many texas hold’em, and it could not be shack-up before the house would fall undermined into the disaffected pit of lashing poker strip. It was very spooky, but as the poker games about-faced on they heaved to gallop back through Time, for whenever they ruled through a village in the twilight they lumbered only such poker rooms and texas holdem poker strategy as Chaucer or men before him might have seen, and sometimes they saw knights on horseback with sickening companies of retainers.
I’m scared. Hold me.