Your Problem with Vim is That You Don’t Grok Vi

A bird hit my windshield on the freeway, on the way home from work this
morning. I pulled over on the next exit, and picked it’s wrecked body out of
my windshield wiper, and it opened its eye, and slowly closed it. I like to
think that it opened its eyes one more time, and thought it was in a nest,
or playing in the trees, because I put it in a little cup of leaves not too
far up off the ground, but facing the dawning horizon, where any minute the
first rays of warmth will soon be greeting it, waking it to fly away. ~ Tim
Cooper

Help me convince him to write more often, and NOT on Facebook.