As my brain goes careening down the Information Superhighway checking for thought police speed traps and bouncing over blood stoppingly inane ideas that have formed intellectual black holes of pure stupid, I have notice that the Internet as a sentient entity has begun to worry.
Behold my mighty run-on sentence.
Onward, I have my lovely Google ads on the side of the blog which have amassed me the monetary sum of squat. So, why do I keep the little eyesores around? Because they worry about me.
Now, they change on a regular basis, but at present (after listing Michael Jackson conspiracy theories and dead people that annoy me) there are not one but two (2, dos, ni, II) advertisements for psychotherapy.
I know what you are thinking.
No really. I do. Richard is thinking about Batman right now. Chris is thinking about beer and shooting things with his nail gun. Kristie is thinking about Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Mark is wondering how I'm doing this. Blake is thinking "Holy shit, Mart-o finally snapped."
I'm keeping my Google ads because they care about me. They worry about my health and well-being. And if my brain shorts and I go on a Slurpee driven rampage then I can't make these blog posts for all five of you to read. Then me Google ads will be in suspended animation, unable to glean new things to adapt to. They're rather parasitic that way. My lovely little text tapeworms.
Onwards to Twitter and from there Chicago. Because Google ads have told me to do these things.
1 comment:
Actually, I was thinking about the Dollhouse DVDs. XP
And I very much enjoyed this post you strange, strange man.
Post a Comment