As my tribe of pre-technological, hand tool wielding cave dwelling croods dwindles in number I'm left to quietly observe my immediate environment with the ungodly frustration of artificial idiot touch type predictive text on the immediately obsolete handheld device I'm attempting to successfully record my observations online.
It's amazing how nobody curses anymore. With the exception of my foul-mouthed autistic prodigy. I simple don't trust folk who ain't cussing. That's fucking suspicious.
Repeatedly being fine one credit for violation of the verbal morality act or serving time several sentences of social media incarceration, including an execution because I keep pushing buttons that unsettle somw folk. Whatever online remains I have out there stay rent free on the powder dry patch on the top plate in your mouth between your back teeth and uvula persevering to remind your saliva glands all that chewing ain't curing your cottonmouth.
Maybe the online barrier is a necessity, or necessary evil that keeps distance between you and me. See I know enough about the dark web not to fuck with cats but encourage you to change all your passwords. I would offer the statement let's hope we never meet in public face to face but that's unlikely. I'm content to remain the mysterious wildman moving across the mist covered wilderness, mostly unseen and free of human interaction, occasionally heard calling out of the darkness.
No comments:
Post a Comment