Loop Loop

Well, it seems as if we’ve found ourselves in a predicament of sorts, again. By predicament, I’m not implying the usual sort of run-of-the-mill issues that the Jonathon Everyman faces on his ever so basic regiment. I’m not addressing the impending chances of death by meteor attack, nor am I staring head on into the face of everyday evil that is the Beast of Maim.

No, this is something much, much worse; a problem that could send the illegitimate offspring of Hercules and Wonder Woman scuttling into a damp cavern, beefy mace-tail between its legs.

It seems though, that this problem is all too common, which is most likely why it causes so much pain. It’s not the big things in life we focus on, it’s the little biting things that gnaw on us daily until our will is shattered and brain reduced to cauliflower. We cannot deem the day with only one problem as “Problematic”, but ones with the same problem over and over, tend to create a labyrinth in our mind and the only word we can choke out to define them is: “Prruhhblemmmatiiiic”

I’m assuming you all speak the way I do, which is probably a hefty postulation, seeing how I am; An oddity amongst men. I say that in the lighter sense, seeing as how my problem is plaguing me and I’m clearly undeserving of self-deprecation. Even I can’t trust me. Paranoia is a bitch like that: Cold, calculating, and callous. However, paranoia is not what’s bugging me at the moment.

Unless it is. How do I really know?

Right, I need to get back to main thesis of this little scrawling of mine. The fact of the matter is as such, sweet and simple, yet cruel and enigmatic:

I can’t get online.

Now, before you get all huffy (Like I know you will. Thanks a lot.) and say “Hold up there, Cole. There are starving children in Zimbabwe, fighting for every scrap and morsel they can get, and you’re here fussing about not being able to get online? You, sir, are a real jerk. Bona. Fide. Jerk!”, I should tell you a little something: “Mehbeh yooure the rrrll pruhhhblemmm whay theyyy cahn’t geet fooood!”

Ah, my apologies. That came out all wrong. I can never capture vernacular, so this is probably why I’m not attending college. All those questions on the ACT about regional dialects really darkened my score. Not to mention my incredibly quick response to write “I Won’t. Promise,” in the space labeled DO NOT WRITE IN THIS AREA.

So I guess I’m back where I started, surprisingly enough. Just like the first man to try and drive a Ferris Wheel. I’m sure he wound up exactly where he started too. Keep pioneering, friends, compatriots, and caretakers. We will eventually devise a way to unhinge and direct those things right out of the State Fair and into our homes. I’d like to see the look on Dale’s face when I show up to work driving a Ferris Wheel. He’ll piss his Nissan Stanza, I’m sure.

Going nowhere is twice as fun as not going anywhere.

~Doc