Ok Kids....it's your favourite time of the day. It's BEDTIMESTORYTIMEFROMMYCHILDHOODTIME!!!
Once upon a time, when analog pulse dialing was still in vogue, a stream of electrons encoded at source and decoded at destination by an obsolete linear block code algorithm, made frequent tos and fros - pingpongpingpongpingpong - between the instruments of Little Miss Muffette and Silly Mr. Toughett. They carried much, without saying too much at all. Little pi-clouds without personality, but each carrying information, carrying thoughts, semantics, expressions, pathy, antipathy, sympathy emotionsfeelingspainremorseloveangeranguishdespair....loss. Encoded at source, decoded at destination. Little Miss Muffette and Silly Mr. Toughett could not meet. COULD NOT MEET. And so they relied on technology to communicate. They were slaves to an analog monarch. Blind in faith in their sub atomic messengers, trusting them, pleading with them not to lie. For months they were faithfully served by the little men - pingpongpingpongpingpong. Saying so much without saying anything at all. Because nothing could be said. Because Silly Mr. Toughett was a loser. He had no spine, no legs, no heart, no mind....."Oh please Miss Muffette, I'd just want you to know that.....uh...nothing" And Miss Muffette? What about her? Nothing. Her thoughts were veiled.
Then along came a Spydre.
Octal arms-and-legs-and-encoding-algorithm, sssspinning it's wwweb - zeronezeronezerozerozerone. It spread it grew, it fissioned, it fusioned, procreated, copulated, masturbated, procrastinated, haemmorhaged, fucked, fucked, fucked. Little Miss Muffette.....Little Miss Muffette in veils and veils and veils, instrument in hand, sensuous lips, erotic smile, sensuous lips swaying hips fingertips lips fingertips. Digitdigitdigit. Giddy. Digitdigit. Where'd the instrument go? Where did the instrument go? WHERE THE FUCK DID THE INSTRUMENT GO!!!!!!!!!!????
And swept Miss Muffette away.
Ah yes....Silly Mr. Toughett. Silly Silly Silly Mr. Toughett, instrument in hand, coarse lips, parched throat, bloodshotbloodshot eyes, snotgreen aura, breathe in heavy heavier heavy heavy. STATIC!!!!!!FUCKING STATIC!!!!!.....there was no fro.......just to-to-to-to. No Miss Muffette, just to-to-to-to.
Once upon a time, there were electron messengers which went pingpongpingpongpingpong. They were a bridge between two worlds - encoded at source, decoded at destination.
Once upon a time, when analog pulse dialing was still in vogue, a stream of electrons encoded at source and decoded at destination by an obsolete linear block code algorithm, made frequent tos and fros - pingpongpingpongpingpong - between the instruments of Little Miss Muffette and Silly Mr. Toughett. They carried much, without saying too much at all. Little pi-clouds without personality, but each carrying information, carrying thoughts, semantics, expressions, pathy, antipathy, sympathy emotionsfeelingspainremorseloveangeranguishdespair....loss. Encoded at source, decoded at destination. Little Miss Muffette and Silly Mr. Toughett could not meet. COULD NOT MEET. And so they relied on technology to communicate. They were slaves to an analog monarch. Blind in faith in their sub atomic messengers, trusting them, pleading with them not to lie. For months they were faithfully served by the little men - pingpongpingpongpingpong. Saying so much without saying anything at all. Because nothing could be said. Because Silly Mr. Toughett was a loser. He had no spine, no legs, no heart, no mind....."Oh please Miss Muffette, I'd just want you to know that.....uh...nothing" And Miss Muffette? What about her? Nothing. Her thoughts were veiled.
Then along came a Spydre.
Octal arms-and-legs-and-encoding-algorithm, sssspinning it's wwweb - zeronezeronezerozerozerone. It spread it grew, it fissioned, it fusioned, procreated, copulated, masturbated, procrastinated, haemmorhaged, fucked, fucked, fucked. Little Miss Muffette.....Little Miss Muffette in veils and veils and veils, instrument in hand, sensuous lips, erotic smile, sensuous lips swaying hips fingertips lips fingertips. Digitdigitdigit. Giddy. Digitdigit. Where'd the instrument go? Where did the instrument go? WHERE THE FUCK DID THE INSTRUMENT GO!!!!!!!!!!????
And swept Miss Muffette away.
Ah yes....Silly Mr. Toughett. Silly Silly Silly Mr. Toughett, instrument in hand, coarse lips, parched throat, bloodshotbloodshot eyes, snotgreen aura, breathe in heavy heavier heavy heavy. STATIC!!!!!!FUCKING STATIC!!!!!.....there was no fro.......just to-to-to-to. No Miss Muffette, just to-to-to-to.
Once upon a time, there were electron messengers which went pingpongpingpongpingpong. They were a bridge between two worlds - encoded at source, decoded at destination.
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