Internet Swine
11.07.04 (2:04 pm) [edit]Fuck Roadrunner.
Three days without Internet service. All because some diseased French poodle
belonging to a Procter & Gamble executive escaped into the night and chewed
through an exposed cable line. Or perhaps it's the insane excess of
construction around here. Grocery stores, tanning salons, and
quarter-million dollar homes are going up at a rate of 74 per hour in this
part of the world, as people escaping the city into the suburbs glibly go on
unaware of how their precious fucking economy is going to shit on their
heads any time now. Perhaps that's why we need all these shopping choices -
so assholes like me can make seven bucks an hour.
And now the sweaty geeks at Roadrunner chase their own tails for half a
week, unable to find the source of this heinous sin. Meanwhile, their phone
crew plays "transfer the asshole customer" with my delicate psyche, bouncing
me around to five different people before I finally find one who gives a
shit three quarters of an hour later, and he barely knows which of his own
buttons to push.
The vicious swine. I was ready to filet them all with a salad fork and use
their hollow bones to build a nativity scene in the front yard. The kind of
Jesus-birth you'd find in a Clive Barker story - twisted eldritch sticks
jutting in all manner of weird directions, a tiny skull grinning knowingly
into the cold hard night. He'll lie dormant for thirty-three years befor
rolling their degenerate stone from his resting place. And then the meek
shall inherit uninterupted broadband, and the foul unbelievers shall face
their deserved doom in the fires of Hell. There they will hang for eternity
from their shriveled brain stems while a certain underfed coyote of some
note reams their bleeding assholes with Acme products.
Praise Him, the Most High. His will be done. Godless Time-Warner pagans
unwittingly cast into the service of Christ. That'll teach those incompetent
fucks.
Dougie