Yeah, that's right, you make me sick.
Here we are, possibly at the tail end of the longest dry spell in the Best Show's illustrious ten year history, and there is nary a mention that this very night Tom Scharpling's velvet tones may once again be gracing our undeserving ears.
I don't see a fill-in scheduled.
Where is the fevered anticipation?
Where are the hope-filled wishes?
Where are the supplications to whatever god you hold dear?
The silence is deafening, and you have the audacity to call yourselves a Friend of Tom.