And now….it’s sick-bag time at The Slog:
If this wasn’t so sick in a gladioli-thrown-at-the-hearse spurt of lachrymose incontinence, I’d have something amusing to say. Actually, I did start off saying something, but then my platform wiped it (second time in three days) so I went on to focus on getting all my 12 years of blogs airlifted off HMS Wordrush….
Ode to Old Normal
I exported all my WordPress files one morning,
not having then a great deal else to do:
they zoomed to protonmail, but without warning
the email said to press the download too.
The button sat there lifeless, limp and light blue
more dead than any fish dropped from the sky –
it didn’t turn to navy as it should do.
The email opined simply ‘No Reply’.
So creeping up behind the download dead space
I right-clicked from the keyboard, and I saw
the megabytes crawl out at half a snail’s pace –
it only took an hour or two, no more.
Now compressed inside a tiny zip-purse
the shrinking-violet data hid from view –
afraid to bear the judgement of its purpose:
a cringing extra-virgin shy cashew.
Suffused with hope (but little expectation)
I clicked again and saw another panel –
“To open this you need an application”
(Twas not my place to frown or start to haggle).
On wings of Hermes flew I to the app store
Where forty fine unzippers showed their wares
each a mediocre clonèd claptrap whore –
masquerading as the Good News bears.
A few more hours sufficed to download one key
and then release the blogger’s sacrament
which – once translated into You Can Read Me –
became a simple Windows document.
If this is progress I’m a red banana,
a life is far too short for string too long
to parcel up my every panorama –
somewhere down the line we got it wrong.
Any fool can make the simple complex
(look no further back than Gordon Brown).
Who wants to spend a life trapped in an annex
where all you do is load solutions down?
I’m fairly clear in my mind now that no effective Reset Resistance is going to be formed solely on social media. Quite apart from the ruthless suppression of Truth and all investigation of propaganda claptrap to be found there, armies don’t fight with bon mots, cries of “aux barricades!” and solemn action promises whilewatching Love Island.
Armies harass the State and march against injustice. Guerrillas thrive on the discomfiture of lackey politicians. They organise, support, sympathise and bring a sense of unity to the task in hand.
It’s a sad truism, but the world is full of fakes with noisy gobs and quiet hiding places. They are forever the dysfunctional parent saying to the precocious child, “Do that one more time and just see what happens”. We are in the grip of Lord of the Flies infantile monsters across the globe …..unsocialised brats who feel increasingly certain that they have nothing to fear from sofa warriors and media cowards.
I’ve never been much of a joiner, but now I’ve made at least some kind of physical escape, I
intend to join every and any organisation beyond the internet I can find. That’s where the element of surprise lies going forward.
Gambia is a mystery so far, but I haven’t felt so positive about anything for at least five years. At this stage in my life, nothing is ever going to tick all the boxes: but Gambia ticks far more than
most.
Don’t hesitate to tell me about organisations you rate outside the World Wide Web of deceit. As always, over 80 per cent of good content here emerges from the readership.
Enjoy what’s left of your weekend.
The Slog 