A Man, A.P. Snelahnavlan, A Canal, Van Halen’s Panama

Yesterday’s request for submissions was an absolute hit. Our servers were inundated, nay, overwhelmed with the onslaught of literally dozens of readers. Yes, over twenty-four people who are probably living humans clicked through to the site, and my attorneys are telling me I can legally use the word “dozens” now. From tens to dozens in one day. My God.

Although the submission count rests at absolutely zero, I have great faith that our potential pool of budding interns is bubbling over with ideas. Right now their spunk is flowing and their gumption runneth over. Soon, they’ll have what it takes. They’ll have moxie.

In the meantime, I have a plan.

My most loyal reader has always been my mother. I need each and every one of you to get your mom or mom substitute (my condolences) and link her to this site. She won’t be able to resist checking in daily to see what’s shaking. This represents potentially billions of readers.

My new business model, combined with my complete lack of advertising infrastructure will quickly bankrupt me through hosting fees and lead to my absolute destruction.

Only you can make this happen.

Start texting, kids. Mom (or Sub-Mom) hasn’t heard from you in a while. She’s getting worried. Give her someone else to worry about.

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