Friday Afternoon Confessional: The Man of Plenty
I confess that I thought of so many interesting things to share that I am not able to draw any of them from memory at the time of writing this. I confess to not keeping notes of the plentiful stream of wonderful witticisms that constantly fill my mind. It is a real shame that twitter does not yet have the benefit of being directly connected to my brain (and is therefore stuck with this).
So, you’ll have to settle for: I confess I am puzzled when I see The Wife surfing the internet as if opening new windows is an activity that causes pain to her computer. I am even more puzzled when she refuses to open new tabs as if that would hurt the feelings of the emergent soul that she behaves as if could be housed in the browser algorithm producing this no longer very advanced feature. Maybe it is because we have an old computer of the type that those of us having lived a sufficiently long period of time in the XXth century remember being referred to as a desktop. Desktop is an odd name because I have rarely seen a desktop actually being on top of a desk. Nor have I seen a lot of laptops being used on top of a lap. I confess mine is on my lap now, but that is an exception entirely due to the fact that I was far too lazy to sit at my desk.
Going back to the old computer we have (which is not on my desk because my desk is upstairs whereas the old computer is downstairs of where I am lying, uncomfortably, in bed): it makes this moaning sound whenever it is asked to do more than a little processing. This behavior is entirely consistent with the behavior of The Wife in opening new windows or new tabs. So I confess she may be in the right after all.
Be that as it may (and it may well be as it is), I confess to being an arrogant pompous little git who tries to mumble his way out of a lack of material to confess about. I further confess that said mumbling does not even avoid the typical stereotypes of the genre of pompous little gitly blog posts.
For this I will go further than a mere confession and I will apologize.
I finally confess some ideas are coming back to me as I see the hour at which I need to start doing something else is near (a drawing near which I am confident all of you will see as a fortunate event by now). One of them was the odd idea in certain circles that one always has to look for a win-win strategy and at the same time be aware of the fact that the only thing that’s on people’s minds is ‘what is in it for me?’. Another one had to do with modern feminism under what would probably be too controversy-seeking a title: “Seals on Heels.”
I don’t quite remember how I was going to connect the title to the concept of modern feminism, but I distinctly remember that I google-image’d the title in the hope of finding a picture that I could hide under a hyperlink labeled NSFW. This hope was idle and therefore this post will have to go without an ending in which a reader like grrrl might be trapped into clicking too eagerly, too soon.
[I confess that I do not find the way to fully justify this text. I confess I am tired.]
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