Stipulation the first: I am not now, nor will I ever be interested in participating in the old v. new media debate, at least as it applies to weblogs, because sooner or later everyone starts discussing Instapundit in respectful tones, and I simply cannot keep a straight face.

Stipulation the second: I am in full agreement that, at least when it comes to columns, many bloggers-who-work-free write rings around columnists-who-earn-a-good-buck-at-it. However, and this is where I part ways with many in the blogging community, I don’t think this is a harbinger of the death of old-media columnists. See the “My kid could paint that” debate for background.

What keeps me coming back to my blog bookmarks day after day are entries like The Poor Man’s year-end awards, where, in search of nothing more than an excuse to put off starting the day for another couple minutes, I might find a line like this:

The greatest seasoning of 2003 was, once again, garlic. Runner-up goes to cilantro. Cilantro’s like the Larry Bird of seasoning – it’s not just that it tastes great in its own right, but it makes the food around it give 110% as well.

Several people have asked me, “So how did Kate enjoy Argentina?” Kate did not enjoy Argentina because Kate did not go to Argentina. Argentina is the only fellowship trip to which children are not invited, so she stayed home with a very expensive but ultimately nerve-soothing live-in sitter. (I prefer “live-in sitter” to the snootier “nanny,” although that’s essentially what she was.)

Anyway, what that meant for us was, we didn’t have the liberty to stay on in south America for at-liberty exploring like many of the other, unencumbered Fellows. I was able to keep my seething envy of these lucky souls at bay until one returned and e-mailed me a picture from his trip to Tierra del Fuego. “Here’s a fun picture to share with Kate,” he offered in a fellow-y note. Yes, but it’s a cruel picture to share with me. I’ve only seen penguins in a zoo.

Maybe next time.

Excellent photo by fF Vince Patton, fyi. He took 1,399 others. I want to see them all.

The lesson of 2004 is: Do things impulsively.

At 4:40 p.m. on New Year’s Eve, I was trying to conduct an end-of-the-year phone call with my best friend Deb when I was interrupted twice on call waiting, by ffF Fatih, suggesting we bag any New Year’s Eve plans we might have as individuals and instead hold a spur-of-the-moment party for our new fFs, arriving in the last few days from Istanbul and Buenos Aires.

OK. And we’ll have it at my house, eh?

So we did. And it was the right idea. It only takes a couple hours to lay a tablecloth, light some candles, pour some chips into a bowl, open some wine and throw a CD or two on the stereo. As it turned out, we had a party with four Turks (plus kids), one Argentine (plus kids), and three Americans (plus kids). The kids banged pot lids at midnight and we all had a great time. I did, anyway. Best story of the evening: The Russians had a mobile brothel that rolled around Istanbul for a time, a bus emblazoned “Feel the Difference.” Four rooms, with showers and even a hot tub, picking up and dropping off customers as it traversed this ancient capital. “Feel the Difference.” Can you make this stuff up? You can’t.

Happy new year to you all. I hope your new one is as good as my old one was — the last half, anyway.