I am hardly Prometheus--more like a weasly Publius Casca in Julius Caesar, but I swear Hephaestus, god of repair has left me on a cliff with that pesky eagle gnawing on my alcoholic liver.
Don't you hate that when it happens?
I have somehow missconnected my new compaq. I thought it might not have a built-in modem and applied my old modem to it and somehow knocked myself off the internet.
Not only that but I can't send out email.
Jesus. Little hard drive says DELL.
Friggin right. I should be in comic books.
Writing for years and years to prove to people I'm not stupid, but I think the final irreducible antinomy has been reached.
"You've dug your own hole, Mole. You are stoopid."
Years of shops in high school and I can't put two sticks together. (Of course, twelve beers a day during this holiday season--doesn't help at all).
So here is my techie, who will not make house calls, hanging me up on a cliff while the eternus famishus-famishus eagle flies over to have scoff of my liver.
Tough luck Henry Muck!
Went to my shrink and he said, "Fine, fine I'll get you the rope."
Jesus, that't the ultimate rejection.
Pull the chain!
First flush of despair.
Goodbye cruel world.
...Water closet disconnected and fell on my head.
Shouldn't have tied the rope there.
Says Hephaestus. "What a f*ck-up. Can't even commit suicide properly...but I think he meant just to flush it."
Well a load off my mind at last.
Maybe first flush of success.