A 56k connection, gentle reader, is one of the greatest inventions of humankind. I love the ultra-slow connection that I’m using right now, a connection that threatens to time out, oh, EVERY OTHER SECOND.
Who’s complaining, though? I’m thankful for the technology. I’m thankful for the privilege to use my phone connection for uses other than telephoning. I’m thankful for the opportunities to build my patience. I mean, there’s a certain charm to triple-clicking the AOL button, listening to the ol’ modem piss and moan, and curbing the desire to choke the life out of that damn phone cord dangling out of the back of my computer.
I suppose Sharing Time is over now, huh? How I miss my $120k Ethernet connection.
I’ve said “y’all” way too many times in the past two days. I’ve said it to the saleswomen at the sporting goods store, to the delicatessen person at the supermarket, to the guy at Electronics Boutique. Notify my next of kin, gentle reader, and I will bequeath my unfathomable fortune really, really quick-like.
You turn to me, gentle reader, with that skeptical look in your eyes.
“Did you really think you could fool me with your publishing schedule? I know for a fact that Secondhand Rants did not publish on Sunday, yet you insist that it did.”
My publicist cannot speak for me at the moment, so I will shoulder the onus of replying to a reader so gentle as you.
For one thing, SR can bend the very abstraction of time. Recall that this “Fortune 01” company–and that’s my very own metric, so don’t you dare steal it–purchased “time” a while back, so take that in your imp-loving pipe and smoke it. What is “Sunday” or “Monday,” after all, but mere constructs of society? If I could have my thousand-layer cake, eat it, and make YOU eat it as well, then I would name every day “Rantday.” But that’s not a possibility, is it?
“No, no it isn’t,” you say helpfully.
Thanks for the input. I will simply settle for following the traditional calendar, then, and tough it out. This isn’t the first time I’ve toughed it out, let me tell you; why, the stories I could regale you with! I could tell you the tale of how I sailed to this land of opportunity and landed my first job as a cub reporter for a ratty newspaper, ultimately climbing to the top of the heap with enough panache to make Horatio Alger cry.
Concerning the matter at hand, however, I will only say that a) I wield power over time and b) I’ve taken a leisurely trip away from Illinois to North Carolina. It’s sickeningly warm here, and if I catch myself saying “y’all” one more time, I’ll have to deep-fry my esophagus darn tootin’ style.