I saw some computer or internet thing called a “Plover” and I had to laugh. I know this is an inside-out joke in our empty spaces here as the tumbleweeds blow through, though.
Unrelated, I just got an email that reminded me of our delightful heyday. VERY funny. I miss everyone and hope all is well in our world, though I remain more than perturbed at the possibility of Mad Max franchising locally if not nationally or internationally. I also don’t want to rely on the fact that I might not taste good to ward off zombies. I can’t quite see how taste-aversion would protect me once my brain were sampled in even the tiniest of portions.
Interesting notes: an out and about young person was filled with the Spirit and was moved to say something nice, but slightly hilarious about myself and The Goob. We were nicely walking in Nature and she stopped and said we reminded her of thinking about The Father ministering to His Son or something else culturally capitalized. It was meant as a nice sentiment, and I expressed this to her for her kind words (in her way), but I could only think abouttelling you yahoos about it, and the chorus of inevitable Trollypantses saying “Christ, What an Asshole”
This thing is like a tax on my time. I will not even remember the teams in this thing next year.
And I made some Korean BBQ and found out that the backup Ssamjang had changed colors and was actually two years expired.
CONSTANT DEGRADATION, and probably oxidation.
I double dog dare K. to order a Bud Black Crown some time at the local. Then she can hand the barkeep a marker to write on her shirt “yes” to its trendy, “ironic” “DO I LOOK LIKE A COBAG?” FRANKIE SAY RELAX QUESTION
Everyones, this blog has been getting 60 spams a day. They don’t make it onto the blog, but they completely swamp my will to do anything. Consider them the tree in the yard that does nothing but drop stinky pods that must be raked. I loathe such rakers.
Anyhow, there is now double the math for your commenting fiascos. Unless plover can figure out, as plovers are wont, where in the style sheet the new Captcha font color is called out, your tiny eyes will do nothing but strain to make out the directions for your math Waterloo. As much as I hope that shady Ruskeroo criminal computers would be even more disadvantaged in squinting their cpu to conquer such Captcha, I feel we might be in trouble.
Anyhow. I have probably about 10 days to finish Pitchforke Cobaggery Watch 2011 before 2012 rolls around. Nothing says how boring the list must have been last year than the great effort put out by music lovers (Seitz), and snark lovers (Brando), and Pinko haters (UC) and in betweeners (PP) that we could not make it through 100 songs in 350 days. Onward.
I need that xkcd comic “somebody is wrong on the internet” but the person is not typing furiously, instead they are beat down into nothing. They can’t even respond to Yglesias trolling over the postal service or Drum contrarianing over complaining about the Olympics. And then being very sad about Inkblot being killed by a coyote. It is the dog days.
If you feel like being laid low, enjoy these animated graphs about the melting of the Arctic.
Maybe I should post some reruns. IC3W3DG3!!!!!!!!!!!!!
TITLE LONK Nothing else to do this day. I lied about the new post, but this doesn’t count as a post; long-gone bloggerhood buddy Von has always said posting a picture or a vide by itself doesn’t count. So this post doesn’t damn count. Note that the ground speed listed there is erroneous (due to […]