I was nervous.

When I first read this challenge I guffawed

Me: *readreadreadread* "Guffaw! I surely have posts of such hilarity that I will be crowned the bloggiest horse of this ablogolypse."

However, as I typed the name of my previous blog I became nervous. What if I didn't have anything really funny. I mean, I can't, off the top of my head, remember anything particularly funny. I'm also having trouble typing. I think I need to clip my fingernails.

Better. So I began reading through old posts and came across one that was, even by my standards, fairly weak. That was until I got to the end and realized that - wait! this is bloody brilliant! If you don't think its funny, at the very least marvel at my mastery of the English language.

Voila:

Remember Cousin It? I do. For me he's become a tragic hero of sorts. But that is neither here nor there.

I was thinking about Cousin It the other day, and I started to wonder if there was a whole race of Cousin It's. And if so, do they have a ruler, a king or queen? And what would this monarch be called? The Great It? The Wondrous It? Miss Most In Need Of Scissors? After much deliberationg I decided he/she would probably be called the Grand It. I then proceeded to write this poem in dedication:

How much granite could the Grand It grind if the Grand It could grind granite
-J.B. Sinclair, Poet-for-hire