There Are Stupid Questions

stupid-questionsSomeone the other day said to me, “You should write another blog post.” Technically that’s not a question. Technically.

They say you should be careful what you wish for. At least that’s what my parents told me.

Hang on. Please. We’re not accepting questions till the end. Please let me finish. You see, I know a thing or two about stupid questions. I used to ask them. A lot.

I did it on purpose. Ain’t I a stinker?

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Hyppo and Critter: Follower

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I’m the Bad Guy?

doghouseLast night my wife and I had a conversation.

“What’s for dinner?”

“I don’t know. What do you want?”

“Dunno. What do you want?”

“Dunno, either.”

“Looks like we’re going out.”

“Yup.”

“Yup.”

Seriously. Why I’m not picking up an Oscar for best original screenplay beats the hell out of me.

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Hyppo and Critter: Selfie Time

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Hyppo and Critter: Religious Freedom

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Technology Pitchfork

Your humble correspondent pondering tech. And wanting to die.

Your humble correspondent pondering tech. And wanting to die.

There’s a crap for that. Stick a pitchfork me. I’m done. Well done. By Satan himself.

The future’s so blight I gotta dig graves. A pitchfork works well for that, right?

So, technology. Let’s talk about that. It’s here. It has landed on our chests like a motherfucking elephant in a COPD commercial. Let me posit this: How’s that technology working out for you?

In a moment I’m going to share my ideas regarding the three-pronged attack on our very existence by technology. (Get it? Pitchfork?) I used to think there was only one prong but that was before spring break. I’ve since expanded my thinking (as well as something else).

Call it my Grand Unification Theory of Technology (GUTT) if you will. It’s time for a gut check. Spoiler alert: Mine has been spilled open by a pitchfork. Dammit. They let anyone own these things.

It’s time to stick ’em with the prongy end. Make the jump and I’ll get to the point.

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Irish Folk Song

Peggy was shy and so was I
She held me hand by the old pig-sty
Mother Piggy crooned a lullaby
When Peggy held me hand by the old pig-sty

Peggy said she loved her own god
I shot her in the head and left her in the sod
Be she sweet or be she shy
Disrespect me God and she’ll have to die

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