Some days, the internet is like being on a BART car minding your own business, having a polite conversation with a dead guy who wrote a lot of interesting things, while a half-naked guy covered in mud and stickers screams at random strangers "YOU THERE! YES, YOU! YOU'RE CERTAINLY AN ASSHOLE."
Another lady is maybe talking really loudly about her fifteen kids and how they're all home-schooled with alphabetical names--just loud enough that you can't tune her out. And there's another guy playing the violin and trying to jump between seats in front of people so he's seen. And there's another lady performing some sort of interpretive dance to accompany him, and also leaping directly into people's laps and over seats.
Oh, and there's a bunch of people who are also running up and down the aisles with a stick hitting you in the back of the head and shoving a bunch of soup packets and car insurance logos and pictures of cats and all manner of things you weren't there for in the first place while they yell "BUY MY CRAP."
Wait, no, that's every day.
I still love you, internet, but shut up for a while. There's neat things happening.
Another lady is maybe talking really loudly about her fifteen kids and how they're all home-schooled with alphabetical names--just loud enough that you can't tune her out. And there's another guy playing the violin and trying to jump between seats in front of people so he's seen. And there's another lady performing some sort of interpretive dance to accompany him, and also leaping directly into people's laps and over seats.
Oh, and there's a bunch of people who are also running up and down the aisles with a stick hitting you in the back of the head and shoving a bunch of soup packets and car insurance logos and pictures of cats and all manner of things you weren't there for in the first place while they yell "BUY MY CRAP."
Wait, no, that's every day.
I still love you, internet, but shut up for a while. There's neat things happening.
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