Wednesday, April 18, 2007

Can you dig it? I knew that you could, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers.

How . . . rainy . . . is . . .it?
It is so rainy in New York, the Taco Bell rats have been overrun by otters.

It was so rainy in New York City, Donald Trump put on his yellow slicker hair piece.

It was so rainy in New York, for an extra $20, the Times Square hookers were throwing in a sqweegy job

It is so rainy in New York, the cabbies suicide bombs are getting water-logged.

It was so rainy in New York City, in the Subways, the urine was watered down.

It was so rainy in New York, the tourists were asking; “Is this the way to Times Square or should I just go drown myself?”

Did you see all the rain back East? On Sunday the Washington Nationals game was rained out and somehow the Nationals still lost.

Since you asked:

So there is the whole family, watching “American Idol.” So I give Ann Caroline the “It isn’t nice to judge people” speech about how anyone can be a mean-spirited critic, but we are simply comparing the singer’s performances.

It was my goal to point out that, at this late point in the show, they are all good singers, just some have better nights than others. The important thing to remember is that anyone can criticize, but it takes a lot of guts to stand up and perform. You know, that whole Teddy Roosevelt “It’s not the critic who counts . . .” speech.

Just then, Sanjaya performed and afterwards, my eight-year-old-angel-faced daughter said;

“That was poop on toast.”

Sniff. (Tear-wipe) Daddy is so proud.

These people can go Google my Blogger

Oh my word. I have seen a computer hell no man should see. Can we all agree to get the people who demand their individual web sites demand different kind of user names and passwords so that you can’t possibly remember half of them and send them to the infernal hell they so richly deserve? Passwords that demand no caps, all caps, no numbers, one number, two numbers, six letters or less, six letters or more.

What the hell?

Guess what I discovered? None of my passwords is either Go F*ck yourselves or you snotty little password making weasels or any of the above because I tried those.

All of a sudden I couldn’t log on to my blog on Blogger to update it. It said my password was wrong. OK. Ask it to send my password by e-mail. Suddenly it doesn’t know my e-mail. OK, reset the password. Nothing. Go to update the e-mail address. Guess what? It won’t let me reset my e-mail until I log on. Got that? But I can’t log on because I don’t have the password it can’t send me because it doesn’t have my e-mail address.

Of course the first thing you think, whenever any computer problem arises, is my computer being hacked? Is my identity being stolen? Is some little pencil-neck virgin dweeb jacking with me just because he is mad his blow up girlfriend has a leak?

Then it throws me over to my Google account. Guess what? I didn’t know I had a Google account. Well guess what again? Now to update Blogger, you have to have a Google account. Fine, so I go to set up the Google account. But I can't set up my Google account because it won’t accept my e-mail address because there is already one on file. No e-mail, no Google account and it won't accept my e-mail becaue my e-mail is already on file.


Seriously, am I being Punked?

Now it tells me I am having problems with my cookies blocker. Now, I have nothing against cookies, so why would I want to block them? But apparently I am. Or my privacy section of my Internet tools is. And I didn’t know I had an Internet tool. I know that the people who run Internet passwords are Internet tools.

And don’t try to contact a human being at Blogger or, heaven forbid, Google, because you can’t. There is no possible way to contact a person at either place by phone, e-mail, text message, smoke signal or, as I tried near the end, thrusting your middle finger repeatedly at their home page.