'Cause I can't, I won't, and I don't stop blogging (apoplecticfittz) wrote,
'Cause I can't, I won't, and I don't stop blogging
apoplecticfittz

At the tone, please leave a message....

*BEEP*

I, in the midst of an extended vacation in the rain-soaked hills of Oakland, California, have taken a brief reprieve from reading short stories to inform.

Dearest gentle readers of the interweb, you have two problems...

Now, fear not, for I will solve at least one of these issues for you in moments. The other...well, it will take time and an effort from all of us, up-standing, freedom lovin', web warriors. Now, onto the matters at hand...

Problem 1: The Internet is dead. It has been dead since July of 2004. I don't know if you realize this or not, but it is true. Think about it, weep softly, and then read on.

Q: Who killed the Internet? (Our generation's "Who shot J.R.?," I ponder.)

A: You.

...and you and you and you and you and you and me and you and you and you and probably me again, but mostly, you.

Q: How did this happen, exactly, asshole?

A: Everything that could have been said has now been said, and better.

Therefore, how, in this age of rehashing, do we bring back the swingin' internet of the early 00's (Yes, face it, we are more than halfway through this decade...there is now an "early" part of this decade, and in it, the Internet thrived.)? The answer is simple. I have to start blogging again.

The agenda: We blog until they make us stop, then...we dance on the street for pennies because we crave the attention and are broke because we spent our lives blogging. Together we can save the Internet from a fate better than a spot of trivia.

Problem 2: It has been brought to my attention that I have been breached and the Tigorillougar Wall has been penetrated. I say this for the very reason that this is apparently occurring:


Dev2.0


A band (a term I choke on in this instance) of preteen Disney mall-goers are digging up the grave of 80's synth-rock legends, Devo, and are starting the devolution of all that is holy.
Now, granted, while this is vile...and low for a very low company, Disney. It isn't surprising, to say the least. What is maddening is, scouring my past journal entries, I turned up this:
Proof that Mark Mothersbaugh reads my journal.

So, upon ingesting the efforts of 30 in 30 vets, someone came up with an idea to re-spawn my idols in tyke form. Fine. I will take this injustice all the way to my local mall, if need be. I suggest you do the same or who knows who is next...

The Baby Beatles? The Rolling Pebbles? The Arcade Without the Fire? Madonna...oh, wait.

Also, keep you blogs locked up tight...you never know who is reading.

Problem 3: Yes, I know I said two problems but I just thought of a third and final...I don't know how to manually enter bullet points on this Mac. I apologize for the structure of this entry...I do not, however, apologize for the issues within. They are serious business. Get cracking, Internet. We need you.

p.s. Beware the Ides of March
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