giles
2016-01-17 06:59:17 UTC
Bowie is dead. Evidently I am not. Shit happens. Not my fault it either case.
More to the point, roff is not dead. Some would say that's not my fault either.
O.k.
It does appear to be somewhat moribund, though.
What's a boy gonna do?
Well, let's see......hm.....
I recently took a CPR course. I passed. I am now officially certified to breath new life into a more or less dead body. Gratifying. Sort of.
The trouble is that all that chest thumping and tongueless mouth to mouth stuff does no one any good at all if it's me and the stiff till death do us part. If nobody else ever shows up and the corpus indifferentus continues to just lie there inert and silent, the fun pales after a while. If a few spectators DO show up but do nothing but whine about the litter, that doesn't really do anyone much good either.
My advice?
Do not poke the piles of poo with your fingers. Do not tease your handicapped brethren any more than is absolutely compelled by common sense and a finely honed sense of decorum. Do not insert very hot things into your bodily cavities. Hm......oh yeah, and don't believe everything you think.
Um.....on second thought, never mind that bit about hot things. Your business. I couldn't care less. On the other hand (so to speak) no one has ever gone amiss by being careful about what moves into or out of his or her mouth.
Soiled fingertips on a keyboard are, needless to say (one would hope for no apparent good reason), impossible to distinguish from common oral vomitus in a text only medium. If you MUST puke, do it elsewhere.
g.
oh, what the hell.....go ahead and poke the piles of poo.....but don't bother to bitch to me about what it smells like. no.....wait.....never mind. tell me all about it.....in great detail.....yeah, that sounds like fun :)
More to the point, roff is not dead. Some would say that's not my fault either.
O.k.
It does appear to be somewhat moribund, though.
What's a boy gonna do?
Well, let's see......hm.....
I recently took a CPR course. I passed. I am now officially certified to breath new life into a more or less dead body. Gratifying. Sort of.
The trouble is that all that chest thumping and tongueless mouth to mouth stuff does no one any good at all if it's me and the stiff till death do us part. If nobody else ever shows up and the corpus indifferentus continues to just lie there inert and silent, the fun pales after a while. If a few spectators DO show up but do nothing but whine about the litter, that doesn't really do anyone much good either.
My advice?
Do not poke the piles of poo with your fingers. Do not tease your handicapped brethren any more than is absolutely compelled by common sense and a finely honed sense of decorum. Do not insert very hot things into your bodily cavities. Hm......oh yeah, and don't believe everything you think.
Um.....on second thought, never mind that bit about hot things. Your business. I couldn't care less. On the other hand (so to speak) no one has ever gone amiss by being careful about what moves into or out of his or her mouth.
Soiled fingertips on a keyboard are, needless to say (one would hope for no apparent good reason), impossible to distinguish from common oral vomitus in a text only medium. If you MUST puke, do it elsewhere.
g.
oh, what the hell.....go ahead and poke the piles of poo.....but don't bother to bitch to me about what it smells like. no.....wait.....never mind. tell me all about it.....in great detail.....yeah, that sounds like fun :)