I Have Not Had The Internet

The internet, she does not work. She does not work, you see. Oh on these tepid September days no light doth beacon me. Achewood and news I cannot check, nor e-mails can I proscribe. Pornography has left my reach, this blog has all but died. Homework, if I may opine, relies too much on web sites, has been a hassle and a hell as the net doth read its death rites. Luddite, I, and sympathizers rage against machines, yet who among us hasn't found a need for these retched fiends? I type to you today amidst librarians and students, cursing the name of the internet, my language at its crudest. It is now the third week sans this blasted technology; the Comcast guy's a dicklick and has yet to acknowledge me. Shit doth piss one the fuck off, I scream and rave and rant. I simply wish to look up the bus line, yet find I simply can't. I know at one time the whole world survived without computers, but this shit has become a drug and I've become a user.

So fuck the internet anyway, yeah, fuck it all to hell. I'll get by as best I can, I guess it's just as well.