This post comes without my admonishment at the top not to click on any link you might find in the comments section. While that cautions against clicking on links from people like Lee and Angela and Judy and My MOM, it also prevents an unaware reader who managed to get ALL the way to end of one of my posts from slipping and clicking on posts from Emily and Pawan and Praveen and Linda and the rest of the hijacked and fake names the mental midgets who spread spam use to post in Blogger comment sections.
That's right. There's a cadre of sweat shop workers who sit all day and copy and paste links into comments sections in Blogger posts. They have to do that because Blogger does JUST enough to stop robots from doing it. Which would be cheaper than using close to slave labour. So kids, and grand-gens and out of work slackers sit and paste all day, either using hijacked accounts (You REALLY should do better in setting up passwords and answers to the password revealing Who Are You questions). Or they set up a new Google account and blast away until enough bloggers complain and that account is shut down. Either way, it's a blight on society.
By the way, when you click on a link, a penny goes into the worker's pocket, the slumlord at the top gets a buck and the sites you go to are so virus and worm-laden, they will come CLOSE to shutting down your computer from doing anything OTHER than joining a zombie army to attack some site, an attack that generates the slumlord and the crap-site owners MILLIONS of dollars. You? You get to bring the machine to me or your local computer whiz and hand over a hundred bucks. Or thereabouts.
While I don't get many readers, let alone legitimate comments, the fact is, I still wanted to leave the teeny, tiny, tinsy, slim (what, you thought MORE T words?) chance of an honest-to-goodness comment getting through. I've had authors and people involved in the actual production of the shows I comment on, leave comments. I treasure those and the ones from friends. The rest of the crew, from the minions to the millionaires/billionaires, read my type:
I hope EACH and EVERY ONE OF YOU gets a ravaging sexual disease that leaves you on THIS side of death to suffer ... for decades.
Sound harsh, especially since I know children are involved? Yeah, it is. But the harshness is often required to stamp out disease. And this is a pock-marking blight on the whole internet. So, I'll stand by my statements. Not that you can comment and offer your support.
Because I've turned off commenting. The dedicated might travel to the email site and inundate me with crap. So be it. I'm getting it anyway. Yeah, I filter it all out, but some will get through. And maybe some of the some will be written well enough for me to consider clicking on it in an unprotected web browser. After all, I take LOTS and LOTS of medication. Get me at the right moment and I might even be nice. But those moments are statistically non-existent.
So, NO MORE COMMENTS. NO MORE PREAMBLE ON ALL POSTINGS. A small strike in the war on ... pick a name. I've thought of worse, said worse, and even typed worse. But it's fun, isn't it?
Something has been lost to me today, so I am sad. But something has been gained. And I will nap this afternoon, thinking happy thoughts of the slumscum not having any more dollars from readers here with an itchy click finger. Ahhhhhhh. sweet sonambulant slumber awaits. Montreal plays Philly in three hours.