Andrew Sullivan In Retrospect

By special sooper seekrit guest blogger, Andrew Sullivan

Fellow bloggers, you might wonder why I am writing here on this relatively unknown blog, so I shall tell you right now that my rationale is twofold.

(1) In the first place, unbeknownst to most cultural elitists, I am a lonely man who puts on a brave face as the predominant voice of the bohemian gay community. As such, I thank Agent Bedhead for this chance to voice my emotions on her blog, as no one would ever believe that I should stoop so low as to blog here. Suckers. Note To Readers: By the way, if you don’t mind, could you drop some change into my dwindling bandwidth fund? Oh don’t look so stupid. Everyone knows where my true genius finds itself online, so go google my name or something. Pish posh.

(2) Secondly, I wish to reminisce about this photo, wherein Ana Marie Cox is grabbing my gay ass and Instapundit looks on approvingly. Lay bloggers, I am saddened at the decision of Ana to leave Wonkette to pursue what she calls the “browner pastures” of life as a novelist. Not that I have wasted my time reading that piece of literary trash, mind you, but the reviews say it stinks.

Speaking of unpleasant smells, did I mention that I’m lonelier than Kevin Federline after the strip clubs close down? I long for my former poolboy, Pierre, who left recently after a little spat relating my usual summer trip to Provincetown, which is just on the head of Cape Cod. Pierre was distraught as a result of my conclusions that gayness no longer transcended class barriers. Well, it doesn’t, but that is neither relevant nor worth exploring. Instead, I am here to ponder the ephemeral and fleeting passage of time and give a critical glance backward to those two poor souls, who once were the most illustrious of bloggers.

So back to this photographic impression that brought me to the point of slumming on a lesser known blog than my own - though I must say, the decor is tres chic and oh so fabulous! Who would have thought, almost one year after our fateful meeting, that I would be the most honorable of this bunch. Oh Ana, why hast thou fallen so far, and Glenn, well, let us just say that he speaks for himself: