I am bored, therefore I blog, Doctor Who, déjà vu, jamais vu

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I am bored; therefore I blog. That would have been Shakespeare, maybe, if he’d been born later. How about this:

To blog, or not to blog: that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and innuendos or outrageous trolls,
Or to take arms against a Various sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To blog; to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and thousand natural shocks of the home page
That this site is heir to, ’tis not consummation re: Fuck-a-Slut
Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub, watching vids;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, or gotten blogger bored
Must give us pause {blogger block}; there’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long life {or long loading times};
For who would bear whips of time {unless on Alt},
The oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely, insulting treatment,
The pangs of despised love, the law’s delay {stalkers and such},
The insolence of Various and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make {or at least masturbate}
With a bare bodkin {knife not flesh}? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life {which could be naked flesh},
But that the dread of something after death,
That undiscover’d country {known as WTF} from whose bourne
No traveller returns, puzzles the will {and taxes the mind}
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of? {Just say NO to 1 night stands.}
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all {that and getting banned for saying what we really think};
And thus the native hue of resolution {fix the screen}
Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought {bad blogs?},
And enterprises of great pith and moment {to each his own, eh}
With this regard their currents turn awry {so don’t play in the tub with hairdryer or radio},
And lose the name of action.–Soft you now! {squishy boobie hugs}
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons {she may put out?}
Be all my sins remember’d {because TOS says forever and ever}

This is a test. It is only a test. Had this been a real blog/blog post you would have laughed, cried, held your sides, thought the most ponderous and/or ludicrous of thoughts, and all the full spectrum and gamut of emotions. I now return you to your regularly scheduled items of real interest….

{Is this supposed to be a description of the blog or blogger; or is that one and the same but with a difference? Is there truly a difference, especially in this medium? Is all this 7 Degrees of Hyperactivity? Is 7 really a lucky number? What is the significance of the number 23? Is it supposed to be 3 strikes you’re out or is it supposed to be the 3rd time is a charm? How many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie roll lollipop? Since 42 is the Answer {Life, The Universe, and Everything} but the Question is wrong…what does that mean? Whatev, y’all know? To be continued, updated, rewritten, rehashed, driven in to the ground so far that it will post in Chinese, etcetera, etcetera, yada, yada, ad nauseum/add nausea. No refunds, and no damages of any kind from this side of the blog/blogger for anything that happens {caused or not by this side} on that side of the blog . Computer usually working; mind usually not. Time for a smoke….

ROMANA: So do I, though I did calculate our chances of success at seventy four million three hundred and eighty four thousand three hundred and thirty eight to one, against.
DOCTOR: What? Seventy four million three hundred and eighty four thousand three hundred and thirty eight? Well, that’s extraordinary.
ROMANA: Why?
DOCTOR: Well, that’s my lucky number.

Unfortunately, for us on this site, that is about the same rate of success in getting AFF et all to ‘act right’…the slime-spewing zombie boners suffering from latent genital process and fantasies with libidinous masturbatory discharge and incestuous oedipal energies combined with fixated anal processes, introjected phallic identification…imertinent boil-brained barnacles mixed with frothy toad-spotted idiocy. Now, on to better stuff, because you can’t win over haters; you’re not the jackass whisperer.

Doctor Who and deja vu — have you ever had deja vu, the second kind where you know {for a fact} that you have never been there or had ‘that’ happen before? Have you ever had premonitions of something that was going to happen? All my family, at different times, have said that *I* was going to win the lottery. My point on all that is, first, it needs to be at least 2 million {AFTER taxes}; secondly…when, because I’m in my late 40’s so just saying…. When I do win the lottery, if it’s a large enough amount, I would set up my sister and my kids, then I would buy me some sort of place in Key West…I can imagine me blogging from the beach…if they make sunscreen 1400 or something. {I sunburn…and windburn…and moonburn…yes, seriously, I have.} I have that weird feeling lately, as if some creepy crawly thing is going up my spine; I hope it’s friendly, right?

Often described as the opposite of déjà vu, jamais vu involves a sense of eeriness and the observer’s impression of seeing the situation for the first time, despite rationally knowing that he or she has been in the situation before. Jamais vu is sometimes associated with certain types of aphasia, amnesia, and epilepsy.

I’m not anti-social I’m just not user friendly.

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