Ollie Ollie oxen free! The neighborhood game of tag is over and nobody's "it." Time to grab some Kool-Aid™, sit around on the back porch, and toss some big, black ants into spiders' webs.
What was once something boring old ladies savvy enought to use the 'net did in e-mail forwards to each other, too many intelligent bloggers are doing and it's driving me bonkers. That "TAG" shit.
One that's been annoying the crap out of me this past week - the one that sounds like a witch's spell... Dig back into your archives and find the 23rd post... (The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.) Then read down and find the 5th sentence... Then, the kicker: 4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions. Ponder it for meaning, subtext or hidden agendas. What frosts my liver about this nonsense is that it sounds like The Occult for Nincompoops. WTF is supposed to be so profound about the fifth sentence of your 23rd blog post? At least there are no threats if you break the chain - like, "Mary Swadloboski deleted this without doing it and sending it along to five of her blogging friends and the very next day she ruptured her left labium minor while riding the bus to BINGO."
The other TAG annoyance that's been popping up from time to time and making me want to jam my index finger as far into my nose as I can is that list of 100 somewhat idiotic things which you're supposed to post to your blog and then highlight the items that are true about you. I don't remember them precisely, but things like, "I've used celery as a dildo on my ass," and, "I've sucked dicks beside dumpsters behind bowling alleys," aren't particularly enlightening.
I guess I hate the TAG stuff so much because I don't like anything on the 'net that seems like it's an obligation. This is my recreation. This chair is my magic carpet ride to lots of fun places, but the Land O' Work isn't one of them. Don't shove something in my face and say or imply, "Here! Do this! It's fun!" That's the sort of thing Dee's moronic sister would do in real life with whatever dumb bandwagon kind of thing she happens to be riding on this week, (When her broomstick is in for repairs, that is.), and it's why whenever she threatens to visit we do some really fast thinking to come up with an instant excuse not to be home.
So, please. Don't TAG me. Just let me sit here on the back porch eating and drinking and generally being just as lazy as I please, and eventually I'll think up my own stuff to write without the benefit of copy and paste.
N.B. This rant is directed at nobody in particular, least of all any of my known blogging friends.
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