Naked Truth & Nude Allegations

Randal commented the other day that the word "naked" would illicit a higher number of hits to my site than the boring titles I usually come up with.  Being prone to Bush Texas league tactics and cheap shots at immortality, I figured I would exploit mankind's weakness for things unclothed.  To augment the potentially astronomical number of numerical  hits to my blog, I included the word "nude" just to make sure folks knew what they thought they knew about what to expect when they punched up this post was indeed the disappointment they were looking for.

The only nudity and naked truth they may find here will be accidental and unplanned.  Because Truth is never naked and nudity is just something practiced at the Sunny Villa Nudist Park up near Hiram.  Disappointing the wayward googler will be their own fault and not mine.  Google makes no promises.  Google does not judge.  Google just takes you there and kicks you off the bus.

So this is a Test.  Not a test of wills.  Not a test of time.  And certainly not any test that will push my limits to some height never before achieved.  But maybe I will be able to see if indeed blog titles can suck traffic this way.  Of course I expect it will be hordes of nasty ole farts in raincoats, but hey any audience is better than none. 

So this post doe not end up a complete and utter waste of bandwidth, I will take this opportunity to post an update that will be of no interest, but I figured I should anyway.

I recently had both of my computers shit the bed within days of each other. 

First, the one at the bike shop went.   I unplugged the tangle of wires in the back and lugged it down to South Sanford so Scott could perform some magic and get it back up to speed.  I had picked up one of those virus infestations that are quickly followed, and suspiciously I might add, by a anti virus outfit who must be keeping an eye on me whether I want them to or not.  Bam - the message read "You have been infected with 38 ugly gremlins"......And then a millsecond later, "We can take care of this for $79.95.... Please enter your credit card number in the slot to the left."

"Oh no you don't," I thought.  "Not this time you bastards.  Last time you let me down.  Took my money and went to the bar and got drunk or something, leaving me and my computer high and dry, stuck in the back alley lot computers get towed to when they are found locked and abandoned.

I still had my computer at home, so I really was not worried.  I could still get my fix.  I head home to await Scott's call telling me Life is beautiful again.  Of course with a months worth of chores to do, I go on the computer at home immediately.  The third or fourth link into what I had hoped would be an insightful and educational experience, the home computer spasmed, blinked a few times, belched or farted (one can never tell which is which when a computer does it) and then the BSOD (Blue Screen of Death).

"Damn.  Looks like I have to enter Internet Rehab whether I want to or not."

I give it the hard kill and unplug the tangle of wires it has in the back and wait silently in my chair for Scott to call me to pick up the other one.  Now I am out of computers to use.  I head into my wife's office and consider for just a moment that I might..................And then her twisted and angry face flashes before my mind's eye and I remember the last time my fingers fondled her keys. 

"No, not worth it.  There will be no verbal chastising, it will go postal if she even thinks I touched her computer."

So I retreat back to my hovel and lick the wounds my nightmare of rough encounters of the wifely kind have inflicted on my pysche.  Scott calls and I trade computer towers with him and now I have the bike shop computer back.   The home computer, well, maybe Monday he tells me.

So anyway, my appearances for the next few days might be erratic.

Later................................................