Motumbo Is A Master Chef

Blogger can lick my nuts. I don't mean that in the sense that I like it so much that I wish it would put my genitals into it's mouth; it's really more of a derogetory, like in the case that my nuts were displeasing to lick. They are quite enjoyable, if I do say so myself, so maybe that was a poor choice of words to express my anger. Maybe I should say Blogger is hereby disallowed from licking my nuts. Or maybe it can lick my nuts, but only in situations where I'm real sweaty and haven't showered for days and I accidentally smeared lard and cod oil all over them. You know, accidentally. But as soon as we extend this little angry metaphor into realms such as those, we begin to bring up flaws, such as Blogger is not a human being nor is it even a singular thing that I can stick my nuts in. Blogger is composed of many facets, and to state that this collection of facets is to lick my nuts is to complicate the issue entirely, as are we herein talking about multiple nut-licking sessions, or are my nuts going to have to grow to such an immense proportion that each facet can lick some at the same time? I'm not willing to go through with that, even on a metaphorical level, so maybe I should drop the whole nut-licking thing. Besides, baby Jesus sheds a tiny yet abundantly holy tear every time I get vulgar and bring testicles into a conversation that did not warrant testicles, so maybe I should stop, being almost Easter and all. It's the anniversary of his rising; I can't make him upset with thoughts of my gleaming, immaculate balsac. It wouldn't be right.

But back to the initial point I was attempting to make, before I got all cluttered and distracted by impure thoughts: Blogger sucks. That's right. By now the comment boxes in people's Blogs have become a community. It's a place where people can react, reminisce, and all in all coerce with other individuals who read one anothers blogs. It can be a popularity contest at times, seeing how many comments one has on a post. Many comments usually signify a high-quality post, or at least one that has sparked a large amount of conversation. Conversing is good. It builds healthy social structures and allows one's opinions and musings to be bounced of many other people. So, basically: We likey the talk-talk thing. And when mean ol' Mr. Blog Man takes our talk-talk thing away from us, we get mad. I haven't been able to post comments, and I assume receive them, for quite some time. If I have something important to say to someone else, it usually gets lost in the frustration of trying to click a link that clearly is not working. Even if it's not important, I need to keep up appearances here. As a community, members tend to get upset and wonder what sort of things are going on behind the scenes when someone doesn't comment for a while. This whole thing is very much like a small suburban town where everyone knows everyone, but not really. But this sense of community breaks down like London Bridge when our ability to comment is taken away. Hence: Blogger can lick my nuts.

We don't really give a fuck how new or space-age your comment box is. It floats? It has sparkles? It plays soothing ocean sounds while massaging your feet? It places the persons icon next to the comment so we can pretend like they're right there talking to us in person? Who cares? I don't need your god damn bells and whistles, I just wanna say "Yeah" to people after they say something I agree with. Bells and whistles only serve to ding and tweet, and let me tell you, dinging and tweeting get very old very fast. You might as well throw a kazoo on there. We don't need "new and improved" if all that seems to mean is "doesn't fucking work". I'd sooner walk than ride in a BMW that doesn't drive.

Technology of any kind has always served to stick in my craw. My craw is a loner and prefers things not stick in it. Computers seem to me like the cruelest joke in the world: Here is a machine that can do everything you've ever wanted really fast and really easily. However, it'll never work when you want it to. Once you've come to rely on it, it'll turn it's back on you. Aren't we at war? Don't we not put up with this sort of turncoatism in wartime? Last time I checked, we tossed Benedict Arnold off a plane and made an egg recipe out of him for easy access to breakfast mockery. I say we do the same with computers. They're traitors to the cause. What cause is that? Who knows. But if there were to be one, I'd bet my bippy that they'd be first in line to betray us on it. I say we have a national "Toss Your Computer Out The Window Day", where... Well, I guess it's pretty self-explanatory.

Hell, why stop there? Everything I've come to rely on electronically has kicked me in the junk bucket time and time again. I had to perform a song for my music class, and honest to god every single piece of equipment I used in both the creation and performance fucked out on me at least once. All of them. If that doesn't sound like a conspiracy to you, you're far to literal for me and you think you need to leave and go take a very cold shower. I say we toss 'em all out the window. Hell, toss the window out the window: It's technology that has failed us. Whistle dixy at me in the middle of the night, will ya? I'll toss you out the hole that you used to be in like it was nothing. That hole does a better job than you ever did anyway. Clocks? Fuck 'em. What do you think the sun is for, heat and energy? Ha! It's a big ass clock, ladies and gentlemen; the original Big Ben. Bigger than Ben even. Ben ain't got shit on Mr. Golden Sun. Forks? What have forks done for us other than jab us in the gums on an eating miscalculation? Nothing. Ain't done nothing for nobody. Toss them into the river and let the fish see if they can scoop some plankton with it. We got fingers, bitches. They're like ten little forks that just dangle off your hands; anything that can't be eaten with fingers shouldn't be eaten. Every man made piece of technology you come across I want you to toss off some sort of large height. This height is up to you, get creative, get silly! Just imagine the joyously triumphant onomonopia you'll get to hear and enjoy when your refridgerator hits the pavement from 12 stories up! That's a story the grandkids will enjoy, I assure you! It's time we stop relying so much on this techno-babble bullshit; destroy it and move on.

Well, now that I got that off my chest, it's back to surfing the net and watching TV. Peace.

[Oh, and if you leave a comment to this, tack on how long it took for it to finally work.]