This is not today's post. Today's post will go up at its usual time of "holy-crap-what-time-is-it-I've-only-got-how-many-minutes-until-midnight?!". However when I saw the below, I just had to share it.
This search string led someone in Tooele, UT to my blog.
how do i listen to 97.1 zht on my droid
So many things wrong with that search string that it's difficult to know where to begin. Firstly, let's ignore the fact that someone actually has the desire to listen to 97.1 KZHT; we know these people are out there, but we don't need to speak of them. With that out of the way, let us focus on the other problems. 1) Someone out there owns a DROID, and I don't. This is of primary concern to me after yesterday's article. 2) They wish to pollute that fine device with the auto-tuned dreck that
drips from KZHT like so much ichor from the squamous underbelly of a particularly loathsome copyright lawyer. 3) The owner of this miraculous device has no frickin' clue how the internet works.
The first two problems stand by themselves and have no answer. They are what they are and can only be "solved" by ignoring that they exist.
Problem #3 however, requires an answer, and it is simply that one cannot listen to 97.1 KZHT on one's DROID as there is no app for it, yet. A little internet-matlocking leads me to believe the Broov Adore app might be ready soon, but I don't know if it supports the particularly noxious effluvia that flows from KZHT like raw sewage through the open sewers of the internet.
Thank you, and good day.
Enslaved to the Music
Well, if ever there was a reason to start blogging (again), bitching about one's life is at least a time-honored excuse in the blogosphere.
The word "blogosphere" is a known word to the Typepad word editor. That's vaguely unsettling.
Where to begin in the laundry list of first-world problems that I have? Where else? Money. It can't buy happiness, but having liquidity certains aides in the achievement of a happy life. And I have near-zero liquidity at the moment.
The cause of this - well, the root cause - is certainly my lifestyle. Ski bums earn jack-all for pay, but up until now that hasn't really been an issue. In the past I have been able to pay rent and buy food, and have enough left over for an occasional new video game. This year, however, I find myself having (modest, very modest) medical bills in addition to the other fixed expenses I have to worry about. And that feeling of worry is compounded by an ankle injury that still hurts a week on. While it is a dull, low-level ache, the need to wear a walkboot compounds my frustration to the point where I. MUST. BLOOOOOOOOG!
But you know what really ticks me off? The thing that really yanks my chain? Chaps my hide? Chaffs my taint? Pisses in my milk? Teabags my ... something? Uh, right...well, it's the fact that because of all this I won't get this game when it comes out on October 5th.
I really want that game. Not only is it beautifully polished (I played the demo), but the protagonists for once don't make me want to slam my head into a wall until I am dumb enough to put up with their inept characterizations.
Even better? Enslaved is (very) loosely based on one of the few great Chinese novels that are recognized in the West; Journey to the West! That's right, we're gettin' all multi-culturated up in this biatch! Go on! Get down with your bad selves! Uh!
I'm a slaaaaaaaaave to beat! I'm A slaaaaaaaave to the music! I'm a slaaaaaaaave 4 u- wait, no I'm not. I'm just a Slave 2 Tha' Music!
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