Crosspost Kvetching in Normal entries

There’s an advantage to prosebox I was not expecting, ok, so I didn’t really have much expectations at all, it was more of superstition number; I was asked three times, twice anonymously and once signed. You can’t ignore the number three. Some things come in certain numbers (I don’t assign them luck or magical powers, I just know that certain numbers need be heeded). The advantage is that I find myself bitching less.

This has nothing to do the respective merits or detriments inherent in each site (though I have orphan journals everywhere OD and prosebox I claim paternity and fealty too, one a teenager the other an infant). It has to do with me and verbosity. I don’t have the energy to bring prosebox up to speed, and I don’t have the time to summarize (there’s a favorite quote of mine that, like most people, I attribute to Mark Twain, but it turns out it’s like “play it again Sam” it’s not really a line, in this case it’s not Mark Twain or some other smart aleck dead white wordsmith. It’s really a dead white barrister, the misquote I always make is “I didn’t have time to write a short note so I wrote a long letter”). Yes I am saying I’m too lazy to bitch, much, on prosebox. I anticipate that I will bitch about future events once they become present events or close past events. If I knew what they were I’d pre-bitch so I’d appear topical.

Perhaps one day when I have even less to do than normal (how that’s possible is beyond me, though, to be fair, I have things to do, I’m just not doing them, so it’s a bit of a dirty hands defense) I will write a series of fill in the blank and/or mad libs bitching for a variety of events, plausible, possible, and unlikely. Knowing me (as I claim to, I mean sometimes I hang out with me, buy myself a beer, I wouldn’t say we were close friends, but he always buys the first round) I’ll probably start with the unlikely to impossible ones, e.g. Dear diary, that damn nuclear holocaust really fucked up my morning. The traffic was all fucked up because of the rubble and the dead bodies so it took me like ten minutes to get to the QD, because I was out of smoke and they have this Pastrami sandwich on what they call pretzel bread, and not only was the store demolished but it had already been looted. All that was left were Marlboro lights. I fucking hate nuclear holocausts. Next time y’all wanna blow shit up; don’t, kay?

I think it’s probably a good idea, though, to pre-write apocalyptic entries as most version of the end of the world though neglecting to include what becomes of internet access there is an implication, a pre-supposition, that the web will be down. Even if it isn’t odds are OD will be down for maintenance. Prosebox might be up though. Someone is sure to make a Flash joke about a nuclear holocaust type scenario “Dear Military Industrial complex. You misunderstood the concept of Flash.”

Then there is the whole theological mess to be sorted, I mean what if souls are weighed for naughty or niceness? Which website do you reckon has more sinners? I mean you’d need some serious fans on a server to keep a site up in a fiery pit in hell, and I bet halos wreak havoc with Wi-Fi. Who the fuck knows? That’s why it’s a good idea to write pre-end-of-times bitching, or form letter bitching; Dear whom it may concern; fuck you very much for ending the world.

I guess that would present a problem if I were going to actually do it; what if we stumble onto idyllic times? Utopian times. Think of all the extra entries you/me would have to write. “Dear utopia, you really fucked up all my bitching, thanks shitloads fuckwad utopia. I went to the QD; they paid me to buy cigarettes, fixed my brakes and offered me a hand job and a complimentary bottle of 18 year old GlenMorangie.

I wish Quality Dairy would change their name to something like Quality elegant dairy, then the acronym would be QED.

Spent, Christ buddy, you don’t know the meaning of spent, and I’m spent. QED.