It takes the Weasel a long time to figure things out. For example, lying. People tell lies, and some people lie all the time as a sort of default, but for ages it never occurred to me that this happened. I still don't get it really, which is why I have bought so many bad cars from dodgy dealers and why, after responding to several offers in my email, my penis is still only three inches long.
What I wanted to mention though, was a conclusion I came to about t'internet.
A year ago, this blog was trundling along, but I became frustrated by an erroneus precept; that whatever I wrote about, whatever profound thoughts or revelations were committed to this blog, it was all ephemeral. Not anymore. You see, through my dimwitted techno fog I began to notice a remarkable thing. Stuff I wrote, no, dashed off, ages ago is being accessed. Now, you might think it was the kind of post that included key search words (you know the kind and I don't want the traffic) but it isn't! Take a look again at the side bar. Presently you will see a piece about The Alan Parsons Project. It was just one of those posts and I did it on a day when I thought I may as well rather than not. No big deal, no real master plan.
The reason that the APP post has appeared on the side bar is that somebody somewhere has posted it in a forum, or facebooked it or tweeted it or a combination of all three. That post, that, between you and me, I did not give an enormous amount of thought to, has come back to haunt me.
So folks, I have learned my lesson after seven years of blogging. What I write now will be here (wherever that is) for bloody ever. What I write will be read, considered, laughed at and derided, long after I am gone.
And do you know what? In a hundred years time, some biographer or chronicler of "blogs" will assert, with some authority, that Wrinkled Weasel had a three-inch penis.
2 comments:
" What I write now will be here (wherever that is) for bloody ever"
And the same for the insane ramblings of us commenters ;)
Despite the fact that 40 years ago this week, we discarded imperial currency, and by extension measurements, these units continue to survive. My local hardware shop still uses them in preference to their metric equivalents. If it's any comfort, they will eventually die a death, and in a hundred years time the inch will be a little like the cubit. Noah used cubits to build his ark. I can't quantify this unit of size and have no concept of how long it actually is. A historian of blogging culture may surmise that you had a great whopper.
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