Etarran Knows How to Get the Ladies

There once was a blogger whose name
Was Etarran (or so he would claim)
His readers said "Serious?!
Fool! You're delerious
If you think that's the name of the game!"

Etarran said "Readers, for shame!
If you think wholly sombre my aim
You are quite mistaken."
(In truth, he was shaken
To hear they believed him so tame.)

In defense of my honour and pride,
I go back to the sillier side
Of my writings and rambles,
My journeys and ambles,
Through English's wildest ride.

I'm sure every one of you knows
Of the essay, and all that it shows
Of mankind's erudition:
The way we partition
Our words into columns and rows.

But I practice a form far superior
Though of usually humerous interior
Nevertheless
It is easy to press
To possession of motives ulterior.

The limerick, thus, is the form
Which I use today to inform
Of a shift in intention
Within the dimension
Encompassed within this transform.

This isn't to say there comes change
To the pages within which I range
But simply to state
Without room for debate
"Sometimes I can simply be strange."

I know many would read this for pleasure
But the subjects are heavy for leasure
So just this, in closure:
I'll limit exposure
To my overly serious measure.

And I hope this begins to appease
Those who found me too ranting for ease
And so: comments! Concerns!
Rebuttals! Returns!
But... only in limericks, please.