In the convoluted tradition of delivering news to the masses, there emerges the noble concept of the newsletter. This literary annoyance is ideally a periodic herald of happenings, dispatched with the regularity of a well-trained pigeon, assuming one had access to a pigeon that wasn’t overly fond of scenic detours. However, due to a current and somewhat embarrassing scarcity of occurrences worth reporting in our realm, the birth of our own newsletter has been somewhat… postponed.
This is but a temporary setback in our quest for communicative regularity. Once The Fracture deems us worthy of news flow steady enough to not bore our esteemed readers to tears or, worse, to sleep, a link or perhaps a magical button of sorts will be conjured up right here. Until that moment, any tidbits of information that manage to crawl their way into the light will find their temporary home on our blog. It’s less a matter of not wanting to communicate and more an issue of having something mildly interesting to say.
"Whilst the proliferation of newsletters may indeed signify the vigor of a society's communication, one cannot help but lament their tendency to crowd the sanctity of one's personal correspondence. It is as though each missive, no matter how trivial its contents, considers itself the bearer of tidings as momentous as the discovery of a new continent."
In an amusing twist of fate that often plagues the realms of commerce and communication, there lies the curious case of the Discount Sign-Up Ritual. This ancient practice involves the noble exchange of one’s electronic pigeon address for a coveted scroll of discount—a magical token promising treasures untold for a fraction less gold. Yet, this seemingly harmonious transaction often takes a turn towards the absurd. For, no sooner have the scrolls of savings been dispatched, than a tempest of indignation arises from the very souls who sought them. They clamor and rail against the very heralds they beseeched for news, enraged by the arrival of the promised messages. It’s as if by providing their pigeon address, they anticipated a silent partnership, not the bustling flurry of correspondence they explicitly requested. Thus, the purveyors of newsletters find themselves navigating the treacherous waters between fulfilling promises and avoiding the wrath of those who, moments before, were allies in the quest for thrift.
