'Yes. And the permanence of the bort's structure, which leads to that constant meditation on our own mortality.'

"Let's cut the crap: you miss them, don't you?"

'Yes, each one of them.'

"What if I told you that things weren't as you perceive them?"

'Meaning what?'

"Meaning, none of them are gone. Meaning, you open the door to the next poast and you may very well find them all in there: halford, j shad, colt, johnsmeyer, zeke, hell, even lasko, alive and well, shooting the bull, laughing and arguing, soaking in the bort's sun."

'That's impossible. They're each of them gone--dead, retired, absconded to some faraway land.'

"It's entirely possible. They've never left. None of them. No one ever does. Each of them--every poaster here--is intrinsic to the Site Culture Code. They still live. All it takes is the right poasting combination--the right mixture of verve and joy and soul and love--and you can bring them back. The words you need are out there, floating in the dusky background ether of the bort. The right combination is the key."

'I could bring them all back?'

"They're right outside, waiting. You just need to open the proper door."

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=3879090&forum_id=3#35298929)