On the street of Shame

It is a lonely street which we here in the Riddled building inhabit. One pops out for lunch full of the cares of an unkind world, feeling the trouser ache growing but also knowing that "Nothing can be done". Aware that for 5 days now, the internets have been ignoring prodigious output concerning angels on the head of pins, skeletal horses and pictures of a trouserless Mikey.
And what surcease are we offered. A foaming mug of Shame dispensed by Sarah Palin's fashion advisor.
It is all a bit much