Mother, this is slow-loading. Why don’t we just go plant our own pods? Plug into the wild of the wired. No need to add a voice to this whirring. This cloud of analog and dialogue and Once Upon a Dial-Up.
I’ll be the first to say it: a good domain name is hard to find.
(Especially if you’re jonsing for the perfect one)
The pickings are slim.
A Cliff, Dick or Harry could get caught in the spam. I’ll keep keeping. Keep needling the hay; needling the time between reloads, refreshes, rescans.
[Auto-remind: Maybe Norton can help descript this techno-babble-baloney?]
What happened to clean? To pure? To loyal. We’re just caught in the filth and the cached; the
autofill and the default.
Predict what’s coming.
Does it need a little elbow-grease? Compressed air?
Translate the page into French. Change my background to Pretty-like. Pretty is as pretty does. You big pretty-brained tinker toy. You can’t even talk back.
[How do you like them apples?]
© Umansky 2011
blog of poet, leah umansky 
Leave a Reply