No, Jack H, this has not been delightful. We expect from you edifying prose, nay, poetry, about for example how beautiful your masculine beauty is, or how incomprehensibly intelligent and brilliant you are -- not depressing dirges and brilliant essays about unhappiness and despair. How we miss the, uh, delightfully comedic touch for which you, Jack H, are world-renowned on the world wide web. What can we, the lowly and unworthy public, so pitiful in our inadequacy, do to help you rise again to the full radiant glory of your godlike perfection? Not that useless drones like us could ever hope to have an effect on you, Jack H, so wonderful the way you are, even when you're so sad the way the holidays seem to make you. We are all in awe of how amazingly awesome you are, and all wish we could be that way too, although the idea is pathetically ridiculous and bogus. No one could ever be even like in the same room with Jack H, he's so cool and popular. And he's so tall and handsome, and he has beautiful soulful blue eyes, deep-set like all intelligent geniuses, and he's aging really well, with rockhard abs that ripple in the morning sunlight like golden sands of rippling dunes in the hot Sahara Desert of northern Africa. And he's so hairy the way all the women love, covered with beautiful blond fur like a Siberian albino tiger if they're not extinct, I'm not sure, or a dire wolf, which was like 8 feet tall at the shoulders, but it's extinct now, from the Ice Age, but they were not blond, although some of them might have been, maybe during the winter so they'd blend in with camouflage in the implacable snows of the mysterious Ice Age from 100,000 BC! And there Jack H is, battling the mammoths and sabertoothed tigers of the hidden Valley of Doom that he discovered and liberates the mighty blond slaves there who are held captive by reptilian aliens for another dimension. And there's this one hot babe who especially digs Jack H, and he's all like Hey, babe, I chose you, and she's all Oh Jack H, my master, take me with your powerful arms and ravish me beyond the capacity of any woman to endure the ecstasy of it. And then there's a mighty explosion and I save the Planet from the monsters, but they will return in the far distant future, but don't worry, Jack H will be there to once more save the day, for Jack H is totally awesome.
One of the Anonymous Throng of Admirers Who Adore the Fabulous Jack H Beyond Human Ability to Communicate