Oh Bitch. You Worry?

OK, so I had a whole storyline (sort of) I was going to do, and it was going to be a lot of fun. It was going to be a takeoff on “Clue” (the game, of course, not the movie), and I was going to call it a “Jewdunnit”, and it was going to turn out that Roberta Flack killed me softly with her song in the conservatory (no, not really). It was going to be great, it was going to be marvelous, it was going to be … well, a lot of things … but …
My light was snuffed out on the first day of Hanukkah, and it was symbolic and all kinds of poetic. It could quite possibly have been construed to be a little political too, but, well, you would know better given that I despise politics and haven’t read a newspaper since 1974.
But then I realized something: You don’t want creativity. You don’t want innovative, conceptual whatnot and whozit. You just want me to talk about Turkey Day and Black Friday and my teen angst. You really just want this.
Happy now?
Did you worry that I was really gone?