Say it isn't so!

Many of you seem to be aware of the strike by most of the writers who write anything worth watching anymore. Well, I wasn't too concerned until I heard that the Office is only going to have one more episode and then be done because Steve Carrell refuses to cross the writers striking line to return to work.

Now, I totally understand him wanting to support these writers and honestly, The Office isn't much without a great dialog since it's so character/dialog driven. I don't know what those writers are asking, but GIVE IT TO THEM!!!

Here are some of Creed's Thoughts and Dwight's Web Log from the website to tide you over until tonight's episode:

Time Encapsulated
Hello internetizens. I have returned from my web logging hiatus. You may be asking yourself, “what happened to Dwight all summer?” Shut up. It’s none of your business. Just focus on the present. In this case, the present has two meanings. In its first usage, it is temporal. The present is the here and now. It is also being used to mean “a gift.” This web log is a present from me to you, the reader, because you do not pay for it and I am giving it to you. Enjoy your present (both meanings).
This weekend, while my cousin Mose was aerating the soil in the East Field, he came upon a metal box labeled “For Dwight. DO NOT OPEN UNTIL 2005.” Luckily, Mose is not nosey and brought it to me unopened right away.
As it turns out, the box was a time capsule that I had left for myself in 1985. It was quite interesting to see what 1985 Dwight had left for 2005 Dwight, even though 2005 Dwight forgot it was there and had to be reminded by 2007 Mose two years later.
These are the contents of 1985 Dwight’s Time Capsule:
1. A dehydrated beet sculpture of myself holding a very small metal box meant to represent a miniature version of the time capsule. I was very much into beet miniatures when I was teenager. I did not, however, know my “BeetDwight” would shrivel into dehydration. That occurred because of science, not intention.
2. A friendship bracelet. They were all the rage amongst agricultural teenagers in 1985. I was susceptible to fads back then. This has since been corrected.
3. Half of a Twix Bar. It must have fallen in.
4. A letter to myself. It said: “Hello Dwight. If you’re reading this, then you are not dead. Good. If you are not Dwight and you are reading this, be aware that this letter is cursed and the ghost of me will haunt you forever. Dokken Rules. Dwight.”
5. A letter to my wife. This is a sensitive subject as I am unmarried and have obviously disappointed my former self.
6. The carcass of a vole. At first I thought it had either fallen in or been trapped while attempting to retrieve the Twix bar. After careful thought, however, I remembered that this was the skeleton of my neighbor’s pet. I despised him and kidnapped one of his voles. Unfortunately, the vole perished before I could return her, so I threw her into the time capsule so there would be no evidence. This serves as my confession. If any authorities are reading this, I willingly accept any punishment bestowed upon me, although I believe the statute of limitations on vole manslaughter has run out.
This “blast from the past” has cast an interesting shadow over my week. It has provided cause for great self-reflection. In truth, however, I am proud of who I have become and regret nothing. Now I must make a time capsule for 2025 Dwight. I hope he is alive when he opens it. And married. And running a large paper company. And a beet magnate or mogul, whichever is most powerful in 2025. Additionally, I hope he has created a way to keep miniature beet sculptures hydrated over long periods of time, thus making himself very rich yet unburdened by the pressures of being overly wealthy.
That is all,
Dwight K. Schrute

If anyone knows how to get chocolate out of hair, let me know. I fell asleep on top of forty Fun Size Milky Ways last night and now I’ve got nougat everywhere. I already tried peanut butter, but that just made my hair into a different kind of candy. I’ll make you a deal: you get it out of my hair, you get to keep it.
Parents always freak out about crazy people giving their kids apples with razorblades hidden inside for Halloween. Those parents are idiots. If you’re getting a free razorblade inside your apple, you shouldn’t be complaining. And if you really want to impress me on Halloween, give me some licorice. That stuff hits the spot.