First Post

People approached me at a quarter to one yesterday morning. With the uttmost sincerity, they asked me "Michael, where does the joy come from?" I had no response. But they expected no response.

The night had been a blur of excitement- no, pure elation. But as it wore down, the happy faces began to wane. All good things come to an end, and they know it.

Or do they? (That's in reference to "Do all things come to an end?" not "Do they know it?")

Gludfest, a three-hour yearly extravaganza, should not be limited to 1/2920 of the year.
I don't know where the joy comes from, but I sure know it can go for longer than that.

This is joy. This is Gludfest 24/7.