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Is comment superfluous?
Former Soviet agents now working for the ruthless criminal barons who own Russia’s privatised public utilities have been dicking me around for long enough.
First they broke into my home and set fire to my iguana. Then they sent a faked photo of me supposedly ‘sharing an intimate moment’ with the late Cambodian dictator Pol Pot to the Stoke-on-Trent Fortnightly Courier & Intelligencer in an unstamped envelope. They then began a so-called ‘whispering campaign’ that became so loud it gave me tinnitus and caused complaints from the neighbours who said they could no longer hear their own pneumatic drills.
Their latest stunt has been to sabotage the comment facility on this blog. For days now I’ve been romping o’er hill and dale inviting everyone I meet – shepherds, tinkers, as-yet-unapprehended nonagenarian Nazis, the lot – to mosey on down to Toasty’s Futon and comment away like billy-o. But what did they find on arrival, aside from my dirty laundry, half-eaten meals and empty canisters of lighter fuel?
They found it was not technically possible to comment unless they opened a Blogger account – which no keen-witted, non-scrofulous person would dream of doing.
I don’t know what I’m supposed to have done to deserve all this. The Epsom and Ewell killings were a long time ago and being Postmaster-General gave me the perfect alibi. It’s true I spend my Saturdays roaming the streets with a deep-frozen brioche, prodding anyone who looks as if he might be called Mikhail or Sergei, but we all do that, surely?
Suffice to say, I’ve had words with Old Mister Blogger and it should now be possible to post a comment here without being lured into his web of shite. If I understand correctly, you’ll have to do something the software calls ‘posting anonymously’, but that shouldn’t stop you including your name at the beginning or end of the text of your message, if desired.
That leaves me wrestling with the other problem: that the comment box itself is so tacky. It looks like a cheap fags kiosk in 1967. It resembles a grubby service alley where addicts shoot up behind dustbins. You wouldn’t see Socrates or Schopenhauer posting to a comment box like that. I don’t see why I should have to fret myself about something so trivial instead of getting on with my very important blogging. Bally Russkies.
WEEBLEMAN said…
I am in fact 000 – licensed to blog. Paranoid as I am, it seemed comparatively painless
TOASTY replied…
Does your blog exist as yet? I can’t seem to get to it via your profile.
WEEBLEMAN said…
My blog does not in fact exist. I am more of the ‘comment randomly on other people’s efforts’ type blogger than the ‘expend personal skull sweat’ type.
ANONYMOUS said…
It's brilliant - a paean to your bibulous genius [surely no-one can be that good sober]! A veritable nimiety of riches..
TOASTY replied…
Age cannot wither me [yeah, right] nor custom stale my infinite nimiety – but I do plead guilty of using a gallon or two of liquid assistance now and then.
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