last night i dreamed of bloard. each post was a finely crafted work of elegance composed by some of history's greatest bloardsmen, and the witty replies flowed abundantly from their respective topics. i entered a thread and was greeted by joop smoking a pipe beside a large table covered in glimmering plus ones. he turned his electric dune buggy around to greet me with a wink, tossed a plus one my way and said "gonna need of these if you're want a to big bloard." i said okay and left to devise a post of my own when i felt a clammy, dripping hand grip weakly at my shoulder, and before i could turn around a voice told me that the posts i seek would come in time. i took a last look at those posts and woke up. i was sad that i could not stay, but then i logged onto bloard dot com and felt the sadness lift from my soul as i looked upon some of the very same threads that i had been so enraptured by in my dream. i closed my eyes and went back to sleep, excited for the posts that have yet to be written