I had a major internet failure. For some reason my connection to the Almighty was interrupted and I had no access to anything in the Cloud of Unknowing. I am ashamed to say that I went into a panic because important work and artistic resources were marooned there with no way to get to them. I am old enough to remember life without the Internet and made plans to resume writing letters, making telephone calls, and shipping art originals to clients. Finally I fled to Starbucks where I knew that the coffeeshop wi-fi would provide me with the caffeinated communion I needed. Yes, they get us one way and another too, with coffee and cookies as well as mainline disinformation injections.
Trudging home from Starbucks I called one of my trusted friends, the net expert who set up my home system in the first place, and begged him for help. He walked me through the protocols for re-setting my router and modem, and lo and behold, with his bidding the Cloud parted and my steady diet of celebrity breasts, cute cats, and Republican propaganda returned to tempt me with lists of "digestive destroyers" and celebrities who are religious. There was no cause for this whole kerfuffle; certainly my internet provider has an endless supply of plausible deniability. Perhaps, as my expert said, a random power surge confused my connector gadgets, sending them scurrying under the bed rather than face the fiberoptic whiplash.
But now they are sitting there flickering away with their eerie greenish rows of glowing eyeballs, delivering videos of more cute furry creatures that can rip your face off. I want my celebrity sharks, my lurid crimes, and the Pope, all sharing the same screen!. And why not an earthquake or two as well.
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