bones of blog

Where will my blogs go once I stop updating them fifty years from now? And where will they go if the Interweb stops working, crashes, or is wiped out by virus or alien invasion? When elephants feel death approaching, researchers say they often remove themselves to secret areas littered with the bones of their pachyderm forebears, graveyards piled high with the massive skulls and valuable tusks of these smart, lumbering beasts. My blogs, I fear, are not much different: when their time is up and their duties have been served, they will either retreat quietly into the digital forest, randomized clusters of ones and zeros waiting to be re-born as a toddler's social media account, or they will sink forever into the shiny black carapace of some server tower humming away dutifully in the climate-controlled warrens of any one of countless South Asian server farms.

All the writing this author posted on those blogs will be gone if they themselves go: there are no hard copies of his body of work; no printed copies of the Grigovian fairy tales he composed; no tactile versions of the vituperative barbs he hurls at politicians and powerful persons alike; his legacy is 50% ethereal and 49% vacuous, and the few items that do exist for real resemble the ruined detritus of a foolish nonce who cowers in the dark shadows of the past while cursing the skies for making thunder and sending rain. No, his artistic effort will vanish when the systems crash, when the sky-brothers return for gold and human women, or upon the Singularity, whichever comes first, and he wouldn't have it any other way. Huzzah.

mentiri factorem fecit – 場黑麥

on NOMB

Are you tired of using the oh-so-2009 acronym TMI to tell others that they are sharing Too Much Information? Do you yearn for a new acronym, one capable of expressing your complete lack of interest in whatever your counterpart is saying? Do you find yourself searching in vain for the perfect set of letters that will best communicate your complete and total indifference to anything but whatever is going on in your own life?

If you have answered yes to any of these questions, the acronym NOMB is for you! This hot new buzzword – which stands for None Of My Business – is sweeping airwaves and cellular text-message transmission pathways alike. Get on board with the cool cats of the NOMB crowd and start telling everyone you know to go fuck themselves in the most tactful and nicest possible way – by stating that anything, and everything, is None Of My Business. Is your girlfriend having a rough menstrual cycle? NOMB. Did your dad just lose his job? NOMB. Has your second cousin just lost his home to a freakish spate of massive, killer tornadoes? NOMB.

It is just that simple to NOMB the balls off of just about anyone moaning like a gut-shot deer mule about how shitty his life is. Don't stay stuck in the dreary old Aughts – join the up-to-the-minute, Totally-Twenty-Twelve set by NOMBing (i.e. NOMB-bombing) everyone, everything, everywhere, and every time. Is your teacher in your face about that homework assignment? NOMB. Have you failed to cast a ballot in any of the last four presidential elections? NOMB. Did your dog just kill a toddler? NOMB. If you are as cool of a cat as you claim to be, you should be catching on to the awesome power of NOMB, so limber up your texting thumbs, and start carpet-NOMBing, today.

場黑麥 mentiri factorem fecit