Semi-Daily Scribbles

My self-addressed stamped revelation got lost in the mail. I'd waited a long time to admire my profile with as few distractions as possible. The promise of a new episode, a nice folly full of mythical wit, was preempted by an explosive report on sheep sleeping on the job. The postman said it was a satire, but it didn't look that way to me. Oh, poor lost little lambs! Have I become such an easy target? Exposed as a fraud, I'm afraid, in simple English. I now return to my regular scheduled programming.