Hats of to Hank Winklestein

On first followers

I have never met Hank Winklestein, and I don’t know him from Adam. For all I know, he may be a raving lunatic. He could be Adam, because Hank Winklestein is not his real name. Bear with me.

I may have mentioned this twenty or thirty times already, but I’m new to this blogging malarkey. I’m excited and unsure how things will develop. What kind of person will read my scribbles? Will anyone? Where do they live? Are they insomniacs? Why haven’t they got anything better to do?

A few days ago, I dressed my shop window, carefully positioning pieces bathed in an orange glow. Satisfied, I sat back watching passers-by, hoping they would stop and peruse. Many did, and that made me happy.

What I wanted was my first real follower. By real, I mean someone who isn’t a friend, family, or a person I’ve bribed, blackmailed, or threatened.

So, thanks to Hank Winklestein, my first real follower. I am sincerely grateful that you stepped inside. May you never sleep in the cold or go hungry. May you never walk alone.

PS If, by some crazy coincidence, I have identified and wrongly accused a real Hank Winklestein of following me, I’m sorry. Please accept my apologies — or, just for a laugh, follow me.

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