The Bat-signal for Mike’s IT Guy.

Mike: What’s going on with the comments on your blog, dude? A couple of days ago, you posted some questions about hockey; being the resident Canadian know-it-all and puck freak, I of course immediately mashed keys on my word toaster and zipped you off a responding thingamajig. Something weird happened and the page took a long time to load and refresh; when it did, my highly lucid, very entertaining, undeniably witty and terribly endearing and informative comment was nowhere to be seen. I tried re-submitting it, but wordpress started making fun of me, telling me “Dude. You totally already said that.”

bat signal

So I figured maybe there was a software update that forced the comment into the moderation queue or something. Patience. All would become clear in time, right?

Well, my astonishingly incisive insights remained noticeably absent from your site again the following morning. My brain couldn’t handle it. I have this knowledge, my brain said. It’s not fair – I must, I simply MUST share it. Cue the mashing fingers again, bash the submit again, only to find WordPress definitely getting tired of my same old shit and pointing out, “Dude. I told you yesterday, you said that already. Piss off.”

My brain was in agony, but I continued to run with the “software update/moderation” thesis. I mashed another comment about your next post this morning and felt a bit re-assured that it was not immediately posted on the site;  surely this second instance of comment disappearance was corroborating evidence that the thesis was fact. Calming down almost to the agitation level of a normal human, I visited your site again this evening as part of my therapy and to partake of the virtual camaraderie of the blogosphere. Feeling suitably inspired by your posted musings, I shared the scattered intellectual goulash that is the product of my mind, a veritable epistemological jambalaya, by once again setting sausage fingers to keys and mashing away upon the “submit” button.

This time, though, my blather nonsense drivel verbal diarhhea wisdom was posted instantly, summarily disposing of my working hypothesis as to the origin and nature of the black hole into which these comments were disappearing, leading to a rather comical spit take involving hot tea and a seltzer bottle (okay, okay, that didn’t happen in real life – but it will be in the movie.) The tiny neural cortex in my head, generously described by those unfamiliar with the anatomy of the higher mammals as a “brain” immediately sputtered into action and coughed out one word, urgent and imprinted with the utmost import upon my consciousness: comment!

I returned to the hockey post yet again and examined it carefully, only to find that infuriating “No Comments” phrase taunting me via the electrons on my screen. Fingers mashed keys again, and the submitt-erator was once again engaged. WordPress was a little short with me this time, I thought – it was somewhat uncalled for, that portion of the resulting error message that wearily pointed out that “Dude. You. Totally. Said. It. Already” and then went on about how I ought to “get a life” and “fucking leave it alone already you simple-minded douchebag”*.

So. Um. I thought I’d tell you there seems to be a problem there. And I am trying very hard to resist the temptation to post here what I was trying to post there.

Every day, in every way, I get a little bit better.

———-

*It is possible – I’m just saying “possible” that I completely made that last little bit up.

By junior

Guitar owner and silly person.

1 comment

  1. See, the disadvantage of having that free wordpress account is relying on the good folks who host your account to be on top of things. In the last couple of weeks they’ve revamped the interface to the point where I can barely post pictures any more.

    “Here’s all this space! Now wait, we’ll make it impossible for you to use it!”

    In grad school, in fact, the whole reason I started writing HTML was as an excuse to stay in the computer lab (read: not my desk, where my advisor could find me) a little longer. But as I get older and lazier I find myself wanting to make things easier. Setting up the Treo I got with a Bluetooth keyboard sadly took all the patience and skill I had.

    Ah, overaggressive spam filter. That’ll teach me to ignore that.

Comments are closed.