Two of my regular readers, who usually post to their blogs with fair regularity, have not been heard from since late last week.
They are Vikibabbles and Wind Spirit. Viki lives in Chicago, and Michelle (Wind Spirit) resides on the other side of the globe in South Africa.
Why am I concerned? In each case, their last post was all about the “C.” Further, in both cases they were experiencing the “BSOD” terror (Blue Screen of Death) on their computers. Their last posts are still there now, as I write this.
No, I’m not implying that anything happened to THEM, personally. But I fear for their computers, cars, homes, plumbing, appliances, and so on.
In addition, Michelle wrote a week or two ago that she thought RobotJam might be behind the entire phenomenon. And if you look at HIS last post... Well, it's strange to say the least! He’s trying to claim that money is nothing but paper! How weird can you get?
When will we learn, people? You can’t mess with the “C.”
It’s bigger than all of us!
7 comments:
i was the one who connected Robotjam to the "C" as its leader. It's obvious...just look at his screen name.
Hopefully, I won't hear any:
caterwauling concerning certain contents characterized currently
in my most recent post, "Reaver of Jordan."
It is a parody of both corporate life and of life itself in biblical proportions.
You'll like my references to Accounting as well as Human Resources.
Karyn,
You're right, you were the one who made the initial connection and defended it well. Between RobotJam and the... "phenomenon,"
I mean.
Michelle only picked up your original idea and batted it around a little.
Credit where credit is due! You da WOMAN!!
John
Strangley I'd been on both of those blogs before they vanished.
And what's Karyn on about "screen name", thats my real name !
Note to the "C":
This is a scrambled message. You might THINK it makes sense, but it doesn't. Okay? Got it? Stay away from me.
I am still alive. I have been spending a lot of time during the morning hours sitting in the bushes in front of my house with a pellet gun as protection, waiting for the mailman to bring me the CDs that will restore my "device." Granted, the mailman has been running past my house and throwing my mail into my yard, but as far as this morning, he is still coming. I have also been working in my yard, because there are no "devices" out there. No refrigerators. No cell phones. No computers, no nothing. I took a chance playing a Harry Potter game on my kids' game cube, because I felt that if somehow it became infected through me, that wouldn't be such a bad thing because it's a totally unneccessary piece of equipment anyway.
Later, I am going to the pool. I am NOT going to bring any "devices" with me. I am going to bring a PEN, and a NOTEBOOK, and I'm going to start printing my writing really really neatly, in hopes that agents and magazines will take it. If necessary, I will explain to them the situation. I am sure they will understand, and in fact, it's possible that the situation I have found myself in here will only inspire them to publish me more than even my own fantastic, albeit hand-written writing will. You know how those people are with downtrodden, abused writers. It's a great publicity platform, no?
Ooh, gotta go. I can't let anyone see me here. There's a strange man in dark sunglasses and an overcoat sitting over there by the magazines, and I'm worried that he may...
Eew! The blue screen of death! Not good. That's how my last laptop croaked.
And don't I know it!! Sure hope that it stays away from me for a long time!
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