This space shall be devoted entirely to the sound of my own voice.
You may think that this is odd, but this preconception derives solely from the fact that you do not have my voice and are therefore unaware of how good it sounds.
If you did know, and had experienced this singular form of bliss, then you too would do anything to hear this sound. You would pontificate on topics with which you are only passingly familiar, you would comment on issues and events that have already been examined by far more competent people than you. You would make weak and embarrassing attempts at humor to hear this voice, and the narcotic joy that it brings. Certainly you would know enough to keep your voice even and calm to avoid the unsonorous screech of radicalism.
With time, the calluses over your ego would grow to become trench-war sandbags protecting your self-image from the criticism of radicals. Constant exercise of your faculties would eventually delude you into considering yourself wise and reasonable. Before long, you begin to suspect that you might even be right all of the time (it is noted, with some sorrow, that I am not eligible to be elected Pope).
If you were especially foolish – and possessed of a truly extraordinary ego; one so grand as to compel you to become a fake columnist – you would also start a blog.
