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After a good night's rest I felt better prepared to deal with the anarchy of the Tri-Partate conflict of Little People on my desk. Opening my office door, I was struck by the relative calm of the scene before me. With the Munchkins of Mayhem still firmly in control of Mount Desk Lamp, they had the entire surface covered for easy sniping with small arms fire. In response, the Elven Horde and the Fighting Faeries had taken up strategic positions amongst the few blind spots offered by the bric-a-brac cluttering the surface of the desk. Things had settled into a WWI trench war stalemate. The relative peace of the stalemate brightened my mood considerably, and I set about the task of sorting through some much neglected correspondence and paperwork with an enthusiasm I could rarely muster for the task. The only thing preventing me from completely catching up was my reluctance to shift certain piles of files, thus exposing key positions and risking upsetting the precarious balance that was the cause of the current peace. With business well in hand, I even allowed myself time out to research my next vacation, a long delayed fishing trip to the lakes in the wilds of northern Saskatchewan.   These must be some really wicked drugs I'm on, because I just realized I was contemplating going to Northern Saskatchewan. What the hell was I thinking? The ongoing strife on my desktop must really be getting to me, so perhaps its time I started thinking seriously about doing something about it. When GOD created the internet, He gave us the means of seeking the solutions to all our problems with a few keystrokes and the flick of the SEARCH button, thus effectively making Himself obsolete. Why pray for answers when you can just ask Google? Its much more reliable, and it only strikes you down with lightening bolts half as much. Plus, there's no having to put up with shame or guilt when you accidentally stray into porn. Being and old hand at such things by now, I know where to look to find solutions to this particular problem. When Elves, Faeries, and Munchkins of Mayhem swarm across your desk in an epic, if miniaturized battle for territorial conquest, the only logical place to turn to is The Book of Destruction, or if that fails, the much vaunted Volume 2 of that selfsame work. When bitchy whiny Parental Safety Advocacy groups complain about their children blowing themselves to oblivion in their backyards based on information they got off the net, this resource is probably the source of the complaint.  Whenever some 15 year old Jr. Anarchist blows his hands off then fatally gases himself with a bomb any fool can make out of Clorox, Amonia, a couple of glass jars and a steel pipe, I choose to credit Darwin rather than blame the author of this valuable Tome. Let's be reasonable people, before there was the internet, there were Public Libraries. The main difference is that the little punks had to get up of their butts and excersize enough to amble on down to the local library in days of Yore. Simply knowing I have at my disposal the means of eradicating the annoying little pests swarming over my desk gives me a warm, glowing feeling inside. With methods of mass destruction at your fingertips, any man can face the chaos of the real world with a grin. I'm going to spend the day tomorow being poked and prodded by various Voodoo Artists of Modern Medicine, so I may not get the chance to update this diary for a couple of days. But I will be back, you have been warned. |
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