~Three pages of really borin' crap erased~ Ya know, one bit of Internet madness that I would never have envisioned in my wildest dreams 'bout the future, such beginnin' in the early 60's when I began my acquaintance with the Book of Roddenberry, was that one of the most popular things to keep up with is the stuff that gets sold on Ebay. I don't recall any vision of the existence o' Ebay in my visions of the future. In fact, in my visions of what I 'spected to see in here in the 21st Century, the skies were filled with flyin' cars. I don't really want no stinkin' ipod, ya'll, I want my flyin' car.
Anyway, gettin' back to the inane stuff people sell on Ebay. I am purty sure ever'one recalls the recent sale of a grilled-cheese sandwich. Ya prolly 'member the guy that sold all of his belongin's, what?, earlier this year. I myself was a bit appalled when I heard that one couple was actually proud of themselves for buyin' his garbage. I'm always seemin' to run 'cross stories 'bout those idiots runnin' 'round stealin' stuff and then tryin' to auction it off via Ebay. Now some woman is sellin' her father's ghost. I did read the story and actually am well aware of 'zactly what it is that she is sellin' and jes' why she is doin' so. I am purty sure her bidders likewise know what they are gettin'. Although that grilled-cheese sandwich sale was a bit on the bizarre side, ya'll long time readers likely 'member how I once took advantage of a plastic Jesus found floatin' down the Rio Grande. Now, havin' led ya through that minefield of prior evidence, I have a really 'portant question to ask of ya'll: how much do ya think I could get for the air in my navel?
I have had a miserable weekend filled with deja view: hour 'pon hour of previously seen TV. Ever' movie and show on ever' station was somethin' I had previously seen, none of which were really worth seein' ag'in. I caught my second ever episode of The West Wing jes' now and it was a rerun of the same episode I had previously seen. Even the football games seem to go 'bout the same way I 'spected them to go. My general best option in such case is to turn the channel to PBS, but the station is in the middle of their pledge week programmin'. Blah TV.
Then there was the fall-out surroundin' Blog 'Splosion where stuff ya are readin' seems to filter down and effect what ya do durin' the day. Oh, guess it was not all that bizarre if I can only recall a couple of such events. What? ya ask. First of all, I read a blurb 'bout some gal cookin' goulash, 'membered how much I liked it, went shoppin', bought the ingredients, came home and cooked goulash. Then, later I 'member tellin' someone in their comments that I hardly ever 'sperienced writer's block any more. Now I find myself sittin' here writing the most borin' three hours of diatribe to share with ya'll in this report. I'm sure ya'll 'member readin' my blurb above tellin' ya I had erased it, right? What? So, ya think this is purty borin', as well?? Uh? Writer's Block? Ya'll did catch that appropriate whiny inflection on the end of that, didn't ya? Pullin' snarky inane crap outta the those little cracks in my brain tonight is harder than ~appropriately long spell of deep reflection so as to come up with the perfect metaphor~ removin' postage stamps from an elephant's foot. ~groan~ George, that is jes' bad! If I can't sell this navel, can any of ya'll think of a way I might be able to trade it in for a new model -- or, at least, maybe possibly jump it off usin' an approved navel of the appropriate sort. End of report.
Posted by Tiger at December 6, 2004 01:07 AM | TrackBack