Greatchickenman wrote:haha. I'm catching up to them.
Pretty sure they're gonna reach 1000 before me though. Unless they don't post in like a week.
Pfff. I've been stalling. Really, I wasn't distracted by shiney things and didn't even notice that until just now. Anways, I decided last night, at about 2 AM, that if I was going to make some big deal out of getting 1000 posts, it'd be in my special, name-brand style...no, that doesn't mean I flame you all and then say I'm better than you (because that goes without saying). True to my style, I present to you Ernie Cline and his spoken word. Ernie Cline is a nerd. That much is easily seen. But a closer look will reveal that he also performs an interesting brand of poetry. While some modern writers bitch about the war, or the economy, Ernie Cline discusses more important matters, like Nerd Porn, Airwolf (see figure below), and the good ol days before the technological age altered our lifestyles. His fast talking, a direct result of the 3 minute performance time limit at poetry cafes, reminds me of Dane Cook, another excellent ...media artist...ok, he's a comedian, but he's still kickass.
Anyways, I now sign off from this *SPECTACULAR 1000TH POST BONANZA* feeling a bit better to know that more people know of Airwolf:
And the Joys of Technical Support, another poem that wasn't posted on his website:
Hello, you've reached Technical Support.
Thank you for calling Technical Support.
Yes, this is Technical Support.
This is Ernie, my name is Ernie.
I am the one they call Ernie.
Ernie speaking...
How may I help you?
How may I help you this evening?
What...seems to be the problem?
Is your computer generating an error message?
Well, when did this happen?
How did this happen?
And what in the hell did you do to it?
My god. What the Fuck have you done?
Relax, it's cool. I'll help you.
That's why I'm here.
I'm here to help you.
All day, all night. I'm just a big fat twitching brain wired up to a telephone. Waiting to answer every God-damned computer-related question that you have.
You need my help.
And I'm here to help you now.
So tell me what's wrong.
It's the internet, right?
You need to get on the internet.
Booted up. Jacked in. Online.
It's..imperative and I understand.
I mean, after all, the internet is a revoltionary means of communication that can decentralize power by providing everyone with a voice. Since its the only truly free medium of global information exchange and is not controlled by any one organization, government, corporation, or media cartel.
But YOU! You just wanna download pictures of Julian Anderson's Pussy.
Right?
You wanna send email. You wanna send email to Jerry Springer. You just wanna visit Stone Cold Steve Austin's Website.
The entire world is at your fingertips and this is the best that you could come up with.
You want stock quotes, song lyrics, bomb schematics (spelling=?), beastiality centerfolds.
You wanna use the pseudonym Hot Cock Double-oh-seven (name = HotCock007) to pick up Japanese schoolgirls on AOL.
But you can't. Can you Captain Cave man?
Because "Compyooter iz broke-en" (note: said in really stupid-man voice...think like..Schwarzennegger, sans the austrian accent...yeah, pretty dumb).
And the problem could be hardware. Software. Fuckin Tupperware for all you know.
Christ, you can't even remember your password.
You're in over your head. You're out of your depth. You're five times as stupid, and you want somebody to hold your hand and tell you exactly what to do.
" Help me Ernie. Save me Ernie. Fix it Ernie. Kiss my harddrive and make it better."
Relax! You're in good hands.
I can help you.
The internet is my bitch.
You see, the computer and I are one.
I speak it's language.
I'm like...Fuckin TRON.
Domo Arigato Mr Roboto
You see, it's manifest destiny.
This is my job. This is what I do.
The Imposition of order on chaos.
System on facts. Classification on Data.
I measure time in bits. Bytes. Kilobytes. Megabytes. Terrabytes. (no, I didn't skip GB)
The future has..Teeth.
And you're seeing all of your worst fears about technology come true.
Not only is big brother watching you,
He knows your PIN number.
Welcome, my son, to the machine.
Your fate is being decided by forces you can't even begin to comprehend
and you feel like a hairless pink fetus
floating in a Plexiglas bathtub
somewhere deep inside The Matrix.
But don't worry, Coppertop.
It's cool.
You've reached Technical Support.
This is Technical Support.
Thank you for calling Technical Support.
This is Ernie . . . speaking.
Yeah, he kicks ass. I'll send it to anyone on the IRC channel if you want to hear it. Its really funny.
