Let the day of your birth be darkness
Sorry I haven't been posting for the past few days. I've been trying and failing to combat a completely crippling virus attack which tied my computer into knots and ran loops around it. At the end, the system was so overloaded with unnecessary processes, that the final virus scan which identified the last files to kill off took 74 hours. I found not one, not two, but three different viruses. Little fuckers. Your ass is MINE, now, biatches.
There was probably an easier way to do that, but I couldn't figure it out.
Nonetheless, please allow me at this point to interrupt regular programming to curse the name of the people who wrote the virii until the end of their miserable lives:
You. You worthless pieces of shit. I know you think you're hot stuff, but I consider the day you were born a defect in the space-time continuum. Nonetheless, it having happened, we must all try to cope with the cataclysmic existential crisis brought on by the very fact that we can deduce you to exist by signs you leave in the world, in much the same way that one can smell rotting flesh when hyenas are nearby, or the way one can assume the existence of a dog when one steps in dogshit. But now that you are in the world and we have to make do with what we can. I for one, choose to cope, by cursing your name and getting all warm and fuzzy inside at the very thought that there is a statistical possibility that tomorrow, you may contract a horrible skin disease, which will make you itch like a thousand fleas never could for the rest of your miserable life. You are the scum of the earth. You will never be anything but scum, and I hope the realisation of that will finally drive you under.
Okay. Thank you for your patience. Normal service resumes tomorrow.