nobody asked

Bring it on, AT&T!  I am deceased. My company doesn’t exist any more. My company phone line was canceled because someone else occupies that office now. Over two years ago, I signed a 24-month contract for phone service. Whoops. Did not see the word “renewable” in the corner at the bottom. Was never told that by the salesman, Mr. Ruffin.

This post is written by Roomie, who sits at Winston’s desk, fingers on his keyboard, right hand on his mouse, next to a half cup of coffee that he started to drink last Friday morning. The white cup has a picture of a bucking bronco on it, a cowboy waving his whip as he moves with the zest of life. A nasty film is beginning to form on the surface of the coffee.

Throughout my adult life, Carlin was my guiding light, my conscience, my benchmark.

If God had intended us not to masturbate he would’ve made our arms shorter. — George Carlin

In the previous episode, extreme trepidation was evident as I prepared for a plunge into the dark side. This morning about half way through my second cup of coffee, a little voice spoke to me and said, Do it. Do it now.

This site may soon go dark for a day or three. Or not.

I first encountered the term Oblomovian lassitude on a private blog I am privileged to read. Soon after, I stumbled over the term again on another blog, Anecdotal Evidence, where Patrick Kurp was discussing Samuel Beckett thusly…

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