'DROPOUT' NEWCOMER BLOGGER INFO. RIGINAL.
Arthur Marfa here, CEO of the new 'DROPOUT' satellite Nutworth . The sensational internet site taking the central digital 'hand connectivity' to a new level. Hand connectivity involving the 'central digit' most driver's wave at the disappearing cop in the distance who could have booked you for banging on the lap top whilst driving, setting your hair curlers, mobile chin jammed, ciggie lighter burning a hole in the crutch of your pants, scalding cup of green tea anti-oxidant revolving round your ring finger Dirty Harry fashion, kids in back seat rolling round floor after finding a replica Bear Grylls knife and severing their seat belts. Nodding dog nodding at the nodding snot in your nostril as you laugh at something like Kardistan's impossibly thin waist you spied by dislocating your neck to watch the tele on the back of the back seat. She has had her mid- section removed and transposed with her neck which makes her look like she now has a huge ass. You switch on the radio remotely scalding your fingers trying to extricate it from the revolving cup of tea which has the duel effect of extinguishing the cig lighter in your crutch, and switches simultaneously to Australian news. Two of Australia's richest men punching the crap out of each other which draws a comment from your kid watching the back seat news the kids forced you to lug along thus the reason you took the lit up lighter out.
"Mummy aren't those two men supposed to be setting an example instead off wacking each other?" You dislocate your neck again to view the monitor. "They're only play acting dear, made up stuff for 'U Crude.' See how they're giving each other the right noses back. Rich adults don't have to answer to anyone...and stop waving the knife, stick it in the seat and leave it there."
"Mum why is that fat face cop pulling us over what have we done mum?" Mum unplugs the toaster, waves the smoke clear to define the fat cop's face. Puzzled look on her face. She holsters the green tea cup, untangles her finger from the hair curler cos she is going to need it to wave goodbye to the fat C in a sec. Cop reaches in, yanks nodding laughter snot off her nostril, flings it over the nodding dashboard dog who becomes unsprung with no more spring in his neck.
"What have I done officer?" The officer is being pensioned out next week due to weak eyesight and observational dyslexia...lack of attention to detail.. "Madam your child tossed a replica Bear Grylls knife out the window 500 metres back." "How do you know that officer?" turns to the teary kid. "Told you not to watch those idiots on the news fighting." The cop walks back to his chariot of ire, pulls the knife out of his grill, waddles back. "A Bear Gryll knife through my bare grill...that's how I know!"
Mum is cunning. Changes subject"Officer did you see that impossibly thin waist on that Kardistan woman?" "Yes maam makes her derriere look larger and merrier than mine!" "Oh officer I think your buns are cute." Cute wink. "Madam I'll commandeer this dangerous weapon, drive safely, concentrate..." Turns side on pats his rump."do you really think my buns are cute?" Mum turns to kids "aren't the nice officer's buns cute kids?" Chorus "yes mummy." Officer retreats whistling, wacks leg with knife, it lodges in his leg,limps to car, whistling.
Now none of this has anything to do with the new 'Dropout' blogging but don't yews think safety comes before a blog?
Know the difference between blog and post? The terms came to be from an Irish chap who founded my Dropout network. Mr Smith added L's where not required when overly excited at times... It was raining heavily in the small village of Boggy Moors. Smithy was going to pick his girlfriend Ms Potato Head, up. You see the once- a- year Monster Mash cum Potato head throwing contest was on. Smith's Ms Potato Head was so a peeling he was so excited. Smith was speeding. Once again safety thrown to the wind along with my caution. Rounded a bend in his mini,slid into a deep muddy hole, just missing a lamp post.
Smith swore. Jumped out. His mini was stuck. Old Farmer Obvious in his tractor pulled up. "Ye be stuck Smithy boy?" Smith muttered to himself "no you old git I be fishin' for mini mud crabs!" "Ye be fishin' for mini mud crabs Smithy boy?"
Smith clucked,"ain't it obvious Farmer Obvious I be BLOGGED?" "Ye be blogged then would ye Smithy boyo?"
Smith wiped mud off his face after looking under the 'blogged' car. "Well I'll be a muddy bloody blogger ye need a hand t push yer muddy mini out?" Smith sighed. "Ye might say that's the obvious solution." The two men started to push. Farmer Obvious had a brilliant light bulb momentum. The mini's skirts were stuck down Cross yonder some 2 miles Ms Potato Head was mashing her teeth looking at her grandfather clock wrist watch. She was in the process of pulling her mini up for the mash. "Why don't we use me little red tractor Smithy boy?" Obvious hooked up his tractor which mumbled also to itself,"I think I can't I think I can't." Can the can't? A depressed tractor gone mud. Intractable. Smith sat in the mini revving, all of a sudden it shot free, swung out around the tractor. F Obvious reasons Farmer Obvious yelled out..."watch ye out for the POST!"
Smith got out, stamped his muddy feet. Shook his head in defeat. Said drily though he was wetly, "It's obviously gone from a mini blog to a post!" Father Obvious nodded his head in agreement. "That me boyo be the obvious difference if ye be ever blogged again."
Smith took off. Just as he neared Ms P,s mash patch for a pash a working satellite dropout landed on his roof. Smith strapped it down securely and turned it off so it wouldn't cause a premature blog. Rang me as he knew I wanted a working dropout. If you go back to the start that's why I purchased the mini blog and made Smith my partner. Can't be bothered? I'll spell it out. Honestly though, it's a relatively new Dropout I dont know whether we can get it up and running. Don't know whether we're Arthur or Marfa.
See there's so many dropouts in the competitive internet world at present maybe our new Dropout satellite company Nutworth it? Maybe just shoot it with a Smith and Lesson. Obviously we can't hang on to the Sat nor give it back. Maybe have to bury it in a spud paddock with a depressed tractor? I lied about our company being sensational...but isn't that the norm?
NOTE: Ms Potato Head pealed off her gumboots...Smith launched her short mini. Disqualified by the rule that she was supposed to be in the car. Farmer Obvious chewed on a straw, remarked laconically, "hey Smithy boyo ain't ye girlfriend supposed t be in it?" The next time ye post a blog or blog a post don't mash your teeth worrying about which is which. You'll only get blogged down in semantics. Bit like religious beliefs don't you think? The argument really revolves around the core of the matter which to me is a constant no matter how you embellish it with your own religious embroidery. I could be wrong...usually am...enlighten me?